Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (70 page)

His green eyes met mine and a slow smile spread across his face. “There was a sign a few miles back, and I thought, why the hell not.”

“Lovely,” I groaned.

“You’ll be fine,” Marcus assured me. “It’s not scary. People spend too much time worrying about what it’s going to be like, instead of enjoying the moment. When you fall,” his eyes got a faraway look in them, “for a moment it’s like you’re free … nothing can stop you.”

I looked across at Trace with a frown. Was this dude high or something?

“I know I probably sound crazy,” now he was apparently a mind reader, “but wait and see.”

After we were both in our harness we hopped over the bridge railing and they hooked us together. Marcus double-checked everything, and his thoroughness managed to make me feel a bit better.

“Whenever you’re ready just … fall,” he stepped away from us with a smile.

I looked up into Trace’s eyes as my body shook from fear.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered, “I’m right here.” He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close.

I pressed my face against his chest and closed my eyes.

“Let’s do this,” I said with more confidence than I possessed.

“One, two,” he counted and before he said three, we were falling.

A scream tore through my chest and the shrill sound of it probably busted Trace’s eardrum, but he simply laughed in elation.

My stomach was in my throat but Marcus was right. I felt like I was flying. Like nothing could touch me or stop me. In that moment, we were invincible.

My eyes had opened and I looked down at the water shining below us, if I reached my hand out my fingers would graze the top of it, but I was too scared to let go of Trace.

The cord rebounded and we went flying up in the air again. I held on tight to him, burying my face in his shirt to muffle my screams.

Eventually the cord settled and we swung back and forth slowly.

“Ready?” Marcus yelled down at us.

Trace must have given him a thumbs up—or maybe he said something and I was still in shock and couldn’t hear him—regardless, we fell into the icy water.

I hadn’t expected the water to be
that
cold and came up sputtering. My teeth clattered together as I looked around for Trace. He surfaced in front of me, shaking his hair out of his face.

“It’s freezing,” I said unnecessarily as we swam to shore. Somehow, when they’d released us from the bungee cord we’d come undone from each other. “And now we’re in wet clothes.”

I stretched out on the shore, taking a moment to let the hot sun shine against me.

“Yeah,” he shook his head like a dog, sending water droplets everywhere, “I didn’t think about that part.”

“Obviously,” I wrapped my arms around my chest as a shiver rocked my body.

“Come on,” he hauled me up, “they have towels up there.”

He located a path that led back up to the bridge and took my hand to keep me from slipping.

We rounded the corner and the group faced us with wide smiles.

“How was it?” Marcus asked, appearing with two towels. Bless him.

“Awesome,” Trace grinned, drying his hair with the towel. Guys had it so much easier. It wasn’t fair.

“Spectacular,” I admitted reluctantly, accepting the towel from his outstretched hand. “I’m sorry if I hurt your ears,” I laughed, looking up at Trace.

“I’ll live,” he winked, removing his shirt and drying his chest. I’m pretty sure I heard one of the girls gasp.

I dried my arms with the towel and wrapped it around my shoulders for a bit of warmth. I had an elastic on my wrist and used it to secure my wet hair in a messy bun.

I found a spot to sit down in the sun and Trace joined me, stretching out his legs, and kicking off his boots.

“Still want to kill me?” He asked.

I giggled, unable to answer him. A stubborn piece of hair was sticking straight up on top of his head. I reached up, smoothing it down, before answering him.

“No,” I smiled at him. “I’m glad you made me do that.”

His grin widened. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Quit it,” I punched his arm lightly. “You know,” I looked down at my shriveled fingers, “it’s fun to do stuff that most people are afraid to do. I like that you push me to try new things and to not be so … scared.”

“That’s my job,” he grinned crookedly. “What’s life without a little excitement?”

“Boring,” I answered unnecessarily.

“Exactly,” he snapped his fingers, “and who wants boring?”

“Not me. That’s why I’m stuck with you,” I giggled.

“Stuck?” He raised a brow. “I should be offended.”

“But you’re not?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I know exactly what you mean. I’m stuck with you too,” he grinned. “Because there’s no one else that could handle all of this,” he did an awkward shimmy, since he was sitting, as he pointed to himself.

“Yeah,” I agreed with a laugh, “I don’t think there’s anyone else that could handle you … or put up with your horrible dancing skills.”

He gasped, draping his towel on top of me since I was still shivering, and then wrapped his arm around me. “My dancing is
awesome
. Just because you aren’t familiar with the style doesn’t mean it isn’t good.”

“You look like you’re having a seizure when you dance,” I smiled up at him, “that isn’t normal.”

“I don’t need rhythm on the dance floor when I have it in the bed,” he grinned, thrusting his hips for good measure.

“Can you—I don’t know—
not
do that in public?” I groaned, fighting a blush.

His smile widened. “What difference does it make when you’re the one reaping the benefits?”

“Do you think before you speak?” I buried my face in my hands, shaking my head back and forth in disbelief.

“No,” he snorted, “where’s the fun in that?”

“Sometimes, you’re as bad as Avery, and that’s saying something,” I groaned, kicking at a pebble.

“There’s no point in sugar coating things,” he shrugged, drawing his knees up and draping his arms on top.

Marcus came over and smiled down at us. “I noticed your license plate and saw that you guys are from Virginia. Are you passing through or might you stay here a bit?”

Trace shrugged. “Maybe. We’re on a road trip and we don’t exactly have much of a plan.”

“Excellent,” Marcus smiled. “I’m having a bonfire down by the lake tonight if you want to stay and hangout. There’s also room at my house if you want to stay the night. My wife won’t mind. I think she’s sick of me anyway and would like some company,” he chortled.

Trace looked at me skeptically. I shrugged in response to his look.

“Sounds good,” Trace smiled at Marcus. “A bonfire would be nice and we just might take you up on your offer for a place to stay.”

“Great,” Marcus clapped his hands together. “I better get back over there. We have a group of college kids coming. They can be a bit rowdy, they tend to show up drunk.”

“Have fun with that,” Trace chuckled.

“Oh, I will,” Marcus cackled as he walked away.

“You hungry,” Trace asked me, raking his fingers through his slightly damp hair.

“Yeah,” I nodded, “but I’m still wet.”

“We’ll go through a drive-thru then,” he stood, shaking off the pebbles that clung to his jeans.

“You really want to get your beloved Camaro’s seats wet?” I eyed him questioningly.

“Damn,” he muttered, “I forgot about that.” He put his hands on his hips, lips pursed in thought. “Why don’t we just change? A bra and panties is equivalent to a bikini,” he pointed at me.

“Are you kidding me?” I protested. “I’m not stripping down in front of strangers. You’re insane.”

“Fine,” there was a challenge in his eyes, “I will.” He marched towards the parked Camaro.

“I hate you so much right now,” I growled as I stood, stomping after him.

“Hate is a passionate word,” he sing-songed, “and I will be rewarded with all that passion
later
,” he glanced at me over his shoulder, holding back laughter.

“I’m sure you’ll think I’m real passionate when I pull your hair,” I glared, stopping by the trunk.

“Oooh, you wanna get rough? I’m down for that,” he smirked, unlocking the trunk.

I punched him as hard as I could and was pleased when he let out a grunt.

“I’ll show you rough,” I mumbled, looking through my duffel bag for dry clothes. I wasn’t at all pleased about the idea of almost getting naked in front of all these strangers, but Trace was kind of right, it was like a bikini. Or so I kept telling myself. “Give me one of your shirts,” I pleaded.

He handed me one of his long sleeved plaid shirts and I pulled it on, quickly doing the buttons and rolling up the sleeves. While I would’ve loved to change out of my wet tank top, people were watching us, and I just couldn’t stomach it.

Since his shirt almost came down to my knees, it made it easy to get the wet shorts off and replace them with dry ones without anyone seeing.

Trace, apparently, didn’t have an ounce of modesty. He was smiling crookedly at me as he stood in just his boxers.

“Put some clothes on,” I rolled my eyes.

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted me, grabbing a pair of jeans and a dry shirt.

I shook my head and got in the car. I knew if I stood there, it would only enable him to do something stupid and embarrassing.

Instead of getting in the car, he jogged over to Marcus and they exchanged phone numbers.

“What was that about?” I asked when he got in the car.

“Thought it would make it easier when we meet up later,” he shrugged, pulling away from the group.

“Oh, of course,” I shook my head. I looked around at the bright green leaves on the trees and the grazing cattle. “Where exactly are we?”

“New York,” he answered.

It was crazy to me that we had just left home and were already several states away. But we had a lot farther to go before we reached Maine.

Trace found a small diner and pulled into the parking lot. Several eighteen-wheelers were parked in back and there were few cars in the front.

“You did mention no fancy restaurants,” he reminded me.

“Yeah, yeah,” I eyed the place with suspicion, “I know.”

We stepped inside the small diner and a bell chimed pleasantly above the door.

“Take a seat anywhere you’d like,” a voice called out from the back.

We found an empty booth in the corner by a window. The table was sticky and looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years. I tried to hide my frown but it was impossible.

Trace laughed at my expression.

“Don’t tell me you’re not grossed out,” I challenged.

“It’s not the best,” he shrugged, “but spontaneity is what we agreed on.”

“I didn’t agree to get a strange flesh eating disease,” I countered, wishing I had a bucket of Germ-X and a spray can of Lysol.

He snorted. “You’ll live.”

“I didn’t even know places like this existed in New York,” I looked around at the dirty place.

Trace chuckled. “You do realize that New York is more than just Manhattan.”

“Yes, I know,” I narrowed my eyes.

“Just checking,” he smirked.

The waitress came striding up to us with a pleasant smile on her wrinkled face. “Can I get you guys something to drink?” She asked.

I frowned. “Bottled water.” That seemed safe enough.

Trace snorted.

“What?” I glared at him.

“Nothing,” he waved his hand in dismissal. “I’ll have the same.”

“Sure thing,” the waitress smiled. “And menus are right there,” she pointed to the other end of the table, “look things over and I’ll be back with your drinks.”

I picked up two menus and handed one to Trace.

When the waitress came back with our water, I ordered a B.L.T. That seemed safe enough. Trace ordered a cheeseburger. If he got mad cow, well …

I took a sip of water and said, “If I die from this, I hope you miss me.”

He chuckled. “You’re not going to die from the food or the water,” he eyed the bottle in my hand. “I’m sure you’ll be pleasantly surprised by how good it is. Truckers wouldn’t stop here if the food sucked,” he reasoned.

I hoped he was right, because I was hungry.

It didn’t take us long to get our food and it actually looked pretty yummy … but I still had to taste it.

Trace took a bite of his burger, which he’d covered in ketchup, and was very dramatic about how good it tasted. “Mmm, mmm,” he hummed, “delicious.”

I took a deep breath and picked up half of my sandwich. I took a small hesitant bite.

“This is actually really good,” I admitted.

“See?” He smirked. “You got all worked up for no reason.”

“Well,” I looked pointedly at the dirty floors and then the table, “I think had reason to.”

“You worry too much.”

“Someone has to,” I replied.

“Are you implying that I don’t?” He took a bite of a French fry, his face suddenly serious. There was no playfulness in his eyes or tone of voice. “Because I can assure you, I do worry. A lot. About you. About Gramps. About my idiot brother. I worry if I’m good enough for you,” he leaned towards me, staring into my eyes. “I worry that I’m not a good son or grandson. I worry that I’m not the right person to take over my family’s business. I worry about disappointing them if I tell them I don’t want to take it over.”

“Whoa,” I whispered. I hadn’t expected him to … open up so much. Trace was a closed off guy. He didn’t talk about his feelings with me. I was usually able to pick up on what he was thinking or feeling because I’d known him so long. But I hadn’t known he carried all of that around with him.

I placed my hand on top of his. “Trace,” I whispered, “you don’t need to worry about
any
of that. I love you, unconditionally, and so does your family. We could never be disappointed by the decisions you make.”

He entwined our fingers together and stared at our joined hands for a moment. “That doesn’t stop me from wondering.”

“Do you really not want to take over your family business?” I asked hesitantly.

“No,” he answered immediately, “I don’t. I hate it. Bossing other people around is not how I want to make a living.”

“Then
tell
them.”

“I can’t,” he murmured. “I won’t disappoint them like that.”