Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (13 page)

Trace kept watching me, and the feel of his eyes skating along my body, was igniting a fire inside me.

For something to distract myself, I grabbed another packet of sugar, and added it to my already sweet tea. It wasn’t like you could ever make anything too sweet.

I was taking a sip of my tea when Avery leaned over, and whispered in my ear, “Trace is undressing you with his eyes. He wants to do you, right here, right now.”

I choked, spewing sweet tea across the table, and coughing so hard my sides began to hurt.

Avery giggled, beating my back.

“Are you okay?” Trace asked, wiping up the mess I had made. Thank God none had gotten on him or I would’ve melted into a puddle of embarrassed goo.

“Fine,” I croaked, my voice hoarse from all the coughing.

I glared at Avery and she hid a smile behind her hand.

Luca seemed oblivious, but I wondered if he was really as aloof as he acted. He was a weird guy. I guess that’s why he was perfect for Avery.

“You sure you’re okay?” Trace questioned, dropping the soiled napkin where the waitress could grab it.

“Yeah,” I took a breath and it burned my raw throat. If Avery was sitting across from me, I would kick her so hard in the knees, she wouldn’t be able to walk for days.

Trace took a sip of his beer, eyeing me. He really needed to stop with the whole staring thing. It was turning me into a nervous wreck.

“Get any homework done?” He asked, deciding that was a safe topic.

“No,” I rolled my eyes. Pointing at Avery, I added, “This one dragged me away before I could accomplish anything.”

“What can I say?” Avery flipped her hair over her shoulder. “That’s what best friends are for.”

“Failing grades?” I turned to look at her with a raised brow.

She rolled her eyes, and turned her attention to Luca, who only seemed to grunt in reply to anything she said.

Trace shook his head and chuckled. “You two are complete opposites.”

“I know,” I laughed, “but I love her.” I poked Avery’s side, and she glared at me, before resuming her conversation.

“I know what you mean,” Trace chuckled. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m friends with this weirdo,” he slapped Luca on the back.

Luca chuckled, “It’s ‘cause I make things interesting.”

Oh my God, he spoke more than two words!

“That’s for sure,” Trace laughed. “Your stories about California are the best.”

Luca took a drink of his beer, gazing out into the restaurant. I guessed he had used up his word quota for the day.

“Luca was a professional surfer in California,” Trace explained, since Luca had turned into a mute once more.

“Why’d you quit?” Avery asked.

Luca huffed a sigh, leveling Trace with his eerie pale blue eyes. Reluctantly, he removed his fedora and pushed his shaggy light brown hair off his forehead showing us a jagged white scar that marred at least an inch of his forehead and disappeared into his hair.

Avery’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect O. “What happened?”

Luca glared at Trace and then met Avery’s eyes. “Surfing accident, the scar’s about six inches long. I lost a lot of blood and almost lost my life. After that, I didn’t have the passion for the sport anymore, so I quit,” he shrugged, pulling his hair down to hide the scar once more and replaced his hat.

“Wow,” Avery gasped.

I wondered if she was saying wow about his surfing accident, or at the fact that he spoke a whole freakin’ paragraph.

The waitress came with our food but Avery was too busy staring at Luca to notice.

I rolled my eyes, choosing to ignore them.

I tried to eat my dinner as quickly as possible. I wanted to go. I felt so incredibly awkward, more awkward than I normally felt. I was able to talk to Trace easily now, but something about having extra company there, scared me. I was afraid I’d say something to Trace, Avery would overhear me, and proceed to tell me that I should talk about something else.

I really needed to stop being so insecure.

Trace’s eyes twinkled and his lips quirked with barely contained laughter.

“What?” I asked, automatically reaching up to touch my face.

Oh, shit.

I had BBQ sauce all over my mouth. I pulled my hand away, staring at the stickiness now covering my fingers.

I bit down on my lip, trying not to cry. This was so
embarrassing!

“Here,” Trace tossed one of the wet wipes at me.

That only made me want to cry more. I felt like a child.

I was really beginning to hate that I was so shy. Avery would have brushed this off as if it was nothing. But I couldn’t do that.

I ripped the packet open and hastily wiped my mouth and fingers clean, vowing to,
never-ever-not-in-a-million-years
, eat BBQ wings again. Nope. Never.

“Hey,” Trace leaned across the table, “it’s okay.”

No, it most certainly was
not
okay. I was about to cry in front of a room full of strangers…and Trace.

I nodded, avoiding his scrutiny. I stared at the basket of chicken. I’d only eaten two of them, but suddenly, I wasn’t hungry. In fact, I was pretty sure I would never be hungry again.

I pushed my basket away and covered them with a napkin.

Trace watched my movements, not missing anything, before doing the same and motioning the waitress over.

She scurried quickly to the table. “Is there something I can get you?” She looked down at the food we’d barely touched. “Did you not like the food?”

“We’re not very hungry,” Trace explained with a grin. Pulling his wallet out of his pocket he handed her money. “This should cover our meals,” he pointed to himself and me, “and a tip for you.”

“Alright,” she accepted the money. “If you didn’t enjoy your meal I can speak to my manager and-”

Trace held up a hand to stop her. She tucked a piece of blonde hair that had fallen out of her ponytail, behind her ear.

“That’s not necessary,” he told her.

“Okay,” she said softly, skittering away, but glancing back over her shoulder at Trace.

“Did you drive?” He asked me.

“No,” I shook my head. “Avery brought me.”

“Good,” he grinned, tapping Luca on the shoulder. “We’re gonna head out. Get Avery to take you home.”

Avery grinned like the cat that ate the canary. “Don’t expect me back tonight,” she informed me.

I rolled my eyes. Avery was cocky enough to be a guy. There was no one else on the planet like her.

Trace stood and shrugged his lean shoulders into his leather jacket. I raked my eyes over him, I’d been too nervous earlier to see what he was wearing. Surprise, surprise, he wore a purple plaid shirt.

“Come on,” he reached for my hand and led me outside.

I noticed that there was an area for people to eat outside but it was currently closed for the winter months.

Trace led me to a black car that definitely wasn’t the one he’d been driving.

“New car?” I asked, as he used a push button to unlock it.
Definitely a new car.

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I’ve had it a few months. I don’t like to drive the other one much.”

“Hmmm,” I mused, sliding inside, and then rubbing my hands along the black leather seats.
How did he afford this?
“What kind of car is this?” I asked.

“Dodge Charger,” He answered, backing out.

I grew quiet as he drove down the road and turned left at the stoplight, driving passed the CVS and Payless, before turning sharply into the Dairy Queen parking lot.

My body slammed into the door. “Oomph,” I groaned.

Trace chuckled.

“You really like slamming me against your car door,” I groaned, rubbing my shoulder.

Trace waggled his eyebrows and put the car in park. “What can I say? Slamming you into things has a certain kind of appeal,” he looked me up and down.

I gulped, my eyes widening like a cornered rabbit, as I grappled for the door handle.

Trace chuckled. “I was just kidding…unless you’re into that kind of thing,” he winked.

Oh my God! He needed to stop it before I did something stupid, like tell him he could slam me against anything he wanted.

My cheeks flamed at my thoughts. Apparently, after a year, Avery’s ways were finally rubbing off on me. She’d be so proud.

Trace continued to chuckle as he got out of the car. I climbed out, and followed him into Dairy Queen, my legs shaking like limp noodles. All Trace had to do was suggest something remotely sexual and my body immediately responded. As Avery liked to say, he was the kind of guy that could make you have an orgasm just by talking.

I covered my cheeks with my hands, willing the heat in them to leave. Maybe Avery could give me a lesson in
not
blushing. In all the time I had known her, she had never blushed, while I seemed unable to turn it off.

“What do you want?” He asked, motioning for me to order.

“Oh,” I mumbled, stepping up to the counter, scrutinizing the menu. “Um, I’ll have the double fudge cookie dough blizzard,” I mumbled and stepped back. I didn’t see how I could go wrong with that.

Trace ordered a pineapple sundae and we stood off to the side and waited.

Once we were handed our ice cream, we took a seat on the other side, away from the commotion of the counter.

The seats were old fashioned, with blue and red, shiny cushions. A mural of various ice creams and candies decorated one wall, while the opposite wall was made entirely of windows.

We sat down at one of the tables next to the windows. It was dark outside, but it seemed brighter with the light from inside the Dairy Queen, and the various shops across the street.

“Pineapple?” I raised a brow as Trace took a bite.

“I like pineapple,” he shrugged, “therefore pineapple
and
ice cream are a winning combination. I can also delude myself into believing it was semi healthy when I feel guilty later.”

I laughed. “You sound like you have a vagina.”

He snorted. “I don’t, but feel free to check it out if you want.”

“I’m good,” I looked away, taking a bite of my ice cream. “So, you don’t eat a lot of sweets?” I asked.

He frowned. “I
try
not to, but Skittles are my guilty pleasure.”

I laughed, remembering the bowl of Skittles on his coffee table.

“I try to eat healthy, not like most guys living on their own,” he explained. “My mom made sure that my brother and I could cook.”

“Those stuffed shells you made were delicious,” I licked my lips free of ice cream.

He grinned. “I knew my stuffed shells would impress you.”

I rolled my eyes, silently scolding my cheeks for flaming at his words. “How do you manage to make everything sound dirty?”

He smirked cockily. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

“That’s some gift,” I laughed.

“Not everyone can be this talented,” he winked, and then swirled his tongue around the spoon, licking away every drop of ice cream.

I think my ovaries may have exploded.

Heat rushed through my body, and I knew not even the ice cream I was currently eating, could smolder it.

Damn Trace Wentworth.

He finished his sundae and waited patiently for me to finish mine.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he leaned back in the chair.

Ugh, couldn’t he have just kept quiet about that?

Men.

I waved my hand in dismissal.

“I really am,” he added.

“Can we just not talk about it,” I pleaded.

“Sure,” he shrugged, clasping his fingers together. “Whatever you want.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, staring down at the ice cream like it was the most interesting thing I had ever seen.

“You get embarrassed easily, don’t you?” He questioned.

I sighed, looking up to meet his eyes. “Yeah. I like to believe it’s a byproduct of being raised by my dad and not just me…being me,” I shrugged.

“
Everyone
gets embarrassed now and then,” he replied.

“Even you?” I looked at him in disbelief.

“Even me,” he chuckled. “Just not as much as I used to when I was an awkward tween,” he winked.

I doubted Trace had
ever
been awkward or as easily embarrassed as I was. It seemed impossible. He was always calm, cool, and collected.

I finished my ice cream and Trace drove me back to the dorms.

“Well,” he grinned, looking over at me, “goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I smiled back, opening the car door.

I was closing the door when he exclaimed, “Oh, Olivia!”

“Yeah?” I opened the door wide and leaned my head inside.

The panty dropper smile graced his lips, causing a fire to erupt inside me. “I hope you dream of me.”

My heart skipped a beat, and he chuckled, having caused the desired effect.

“And I hope we’re doing all kinds of naughty things,” he added and then began to laugh at my bug-eyed reaction.

“I hate you,” I hissed

“Hate is such a passionate word, Olivia,” he grinned, reaching up to push his dark hair out of his eyes, causing my mouth to water.
I
wanted to be the one pushing that hair out of his eyes.

I eased my head back out of the car, but before I closed the door, I hissed, “And I hope
you
dream of me
passionately
shoving my foot up your cocky ass.”

I slammed the door closed but it did nothing to hide his booming laughter.

I stomped up to my dorm room cursing his name, because I knew now, that I would certainly dream of all the naughty things I wanted to do with him.