Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (9 page)

I looked over my shoulder at her as she typed away on her laptop; her long hair fell around her like a curtain and her red lips were pursed.

This was definitely an interesting development.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I begged, peering out the windshield of Trace’s car.

“No,” he snorted, “if I’m going to help you cross these things off, we do it on my terms, which means you’ll never know which one we’re doing.”

I swallowed thickly, starting to regret that I told him about my list. I didn’t like the idea of not knowing what thing I would be doing. He could’ve picked anything. There were some I could easily eliminate though. Like riding in a hot air balloon…or skinny-dipping…or falling in love. But that still left too many possibilities for my liking.

I rang my fingers together, nibbling on my bottom lip nervously.

I knew I shouldn’t be nervous, it wasn’t like he was making me do anything that I didn’t want to do. I mean, I’m the one that made the stupid list!

“You look really pale,” he commented.

“I do?” I squeaked, looking over at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m taking it easy on you. We’re doing one of the simpler things,” he explained, but I still didn’t feel any better. “It’s okay, Olivia,” he added, comfortingly.

“I just don’t like
not
knowing which one I’m doing,” I whispered, picking at my chipped blue nail polish.

“Hey,” he said softly, tugging on the beanie he was wearing, with one hand, “you made the list. You said that every single one is something that you want to do. It’ll be fine.”

“You’re right,” I swallowed, “I’m freaking out over nothing.”

Trace exited off of the Interstate and onto Route 7.

His change of direction still didn’t give me a clue as to where we were headed.

I was tempted to sit on my hands so I would stop fidgeting. I didn’t like feeling this antsy.

Trace came to a stoplight, turning on his left blinker.

I bit down on my lip so that I didn’t ask him where we were going
again
.

“Hey,” he grabbed one of my hands, steadying the dance it had been doing across my leg. “This is an easy one, no strip poles, or skinny dipping is about to go down. Relax.”

Sadly, I still wasn’t relaxed.

“Olivia,” he glanced at me, out of the corner of his eye, and released my hand, “you trusted me with your list and you can trust me now.”

He had a point.

I nodded. “Okay. You’re right,” I conceded, but my nerves didn’t ease.

The stoplight turned green and he drove a short ways, passing a strip mall, and Dodge dealership on the left.

He turned suddenly onto an unmarked dirt road. I gripped the side of the car, holding on, and he chuckled at me.

I glared across the car at the side of his face. “You could’ve warned me!”

“And where’s the fun in that?” He peered at me through his aviator sunglasses, his cheeks and chin covered in stubble.

I grumbled something unintelligible, only serving to entertain him further.

We came to a stop in front of a large rectangular building. My eyes lit upon the words, skating rink, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Trace removed his sunglasses, beanie, and leather jacket.

Underneath his jacket, he wore a light blue plaid shirt, buttoned about halfway up his chest, and a white wife-beater underneath. I was beginning to think all he owned were plaid shirts. I had yet to see him in anything else.

“What?” He asked, looking down at his shirt. “Is there something on it? I swear, I got it out of the clean clothes pile,” he grumbled, picking at the bottom edge of the shirt, looking for a stain.

“Nothing’s on it,” I promised, “I was just thinking about how you only wear plaid shirts.”

He grinned, letting his shirt fall back in place. “I like plaid.”

“I can tell,” I laughed.

“I also,” he leaned close to me, which wasn’t hard in his car, and his breath skimmed across my bare collarbone, “
really
like these shoes you keep wearing.” His fingers grazed over my knee and I held my breath so I didn’t start hyperventilating.

“They’re Avery’s,” I squeaked, “but she gave them to me.”

“You’ll have to thank her for me,” he whispered, brushing my hair off my shoulder, and my pulse accelerated.

“Mhmm, I can do that,” my eyes followed his fingers as they skimmed down my neck.

He leaned even closer, and I thought this was it, he’s going to kiss me.

But instead, he grinned cockily, and slid back to his side of the car. “We’ve got some roller skating to do.”

I squished my eyes closed and took a deep breath.

Damn him for getting me all worked up like that. It wasn’t fair.

When I opened my eyes, he was already out of the car, and closing the door.

I scurried after him as fast as I could.

He held the door for me and I followed him to where we paid for our skates.

Luckily, I outsmarted him by cutting in front of him, to pay for my own roller skates.

“That won’t happen again,” he whispered in my ear as we walked away from the counter. “I’m onto you,” he narrowed his eyes as he walked backwards, passed me.

I sat down on a bench and pulled off my shoes, then realized, I didn’t have socks. I sighed in disgust.

“I’m not wearing socks and that’s not exactly something I carry around in my purse,” I grumbled, glaring at my bare feet, and then at the skates I knew were far from sanitary.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered,” Trace winked, sitting down beside me, and handing me a pair of socks. “They’re clean but they’ll be a little big on you.”

“I’ll make do,” I smiled gratefully at him, taking the wadded up ball of socks from his hand. “I hope you’re prepared to handle my suckiness.” I looked out onto the rink where a group of teenagers was skating. It was clear they knew what they were doing and that scared me further. I’d fall flat on my butt as soon as I set foot on the rink.

“That’s what the beginner’s rink is for,” he pointed to a different rink on our right.

It was full of small children and their parents.

“Great,” I rolled my eyes. “This is going to be wonderful.”

“You’re the one that wanted to do it, so stop complaining,” he bent to lace up his skates. “We’ll have fun and I won’t let you fall.”

He was probably right. I wouldn’t fall. Why? Because I’d be crawled halfway up his body, holding on for dear life.

I had put roller-skating on my list, because I’d always wanted to do it when I was younger. Now, looking at the four wheels on the bottom of the skates and the slippery wood floor, I didn’t think it was a good idea. I had already proven myself to be clumsy around Trace, and this would make it worse.

“Ready?” He asked me.

There was nothing I could do to stall.

“Yeah,” I mumbled reluctantly.

Trace held out a hand for me and I placed mine in it. His hand was warm and rough from hard work.

“I won’t let you go,” he promised, guiding me across the carpeted floor.

This wasn’t so bad, but I knew the carpet was giving me false hope.

Trace stepped onto the rink first and my heart began to race in fear.

I did
not
want to fall and bruise my butt. Not only would I embarrass myself, but I’d also be sore.

“You can trust me,” he coaxed. His green eyes were encouraging.

I placed one foot onto the hardwood rink and immediately felt myself slip. I reached out, grabbing the half-wall that separated the rink, from the carpeted area.

“Olivia,” Trace warned.

I whimpered, letting go of the wall, and latched onto his arm.

I’m sure we looked strange, with him holding my left hand in his right, and me gripping his right forearm.

Trace made a face as my nails dug into his skin.

“I told you, I won’t let you fall,” he looked into my eyes. “Relax,” he added, soothingly.

Unwillingly, I let go of his arm.

I instantly felt even more off balance.

Why on Earth had I ever wanted to go roller-skating? I think I’d rather be pole dancing!

I held onto Trace’s hand like…well, like it was the only thing holding me up, which it was.

“It’s okay, Olivia,” he squeezed my hand, studying my tense face. I’m sure I looked like someone who just spotted a giant ass spider, but I couldn’t wipe the look of fear off my face. I hated that Trace was seeing me freak out like this. He didn’t know me well, and I didn’t want him to think I was a scaredy cat…which I was. But my father had made me that way, by sheltering me so much. Things that seemed normal to most people were completely foreign to me.

I eased off a bit on the death grip I had on his hand.

He smiled encouragingly.

I looked at the children around us. For most of them, this was probably the first time they’d been roller-skating. If they could do this without holding onto their moms and dads, then I could do this without hanging onto Trace.

I let his hand slip from mine and began to wobble.

His large hands clasped me by the waist before I could fall.

“I’ve got you,” he hummed, his chest pressed against my back.

I smiled in relief even though he couldn’t see. “Thank you,” I whispered.

“I told you I wouldn’t let you fall and I meant it. I’m a man of my word, Olivia,” he murmured and my stomach fluttered.

I had been attracted to plenty of guys over the years. I even had a few schoolyard crushes like everyone else. But no one had ever made me feel the way Trace did. The nerves and heart fluttering I felt around him were entirely new.

“How does this feel, Olivia?” He asked, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“Like freedom,” I smiled, closed my eyes, and let him guide me.

Trace didn’t make me skate for long, which I was grateful for.

It was okay, but I didn’t like it that much. Maybe, if I had tried it when I was younger I would have enjoyed it, but not now.

He helped me back to the carpeted area and I sat down on the nearest bench, yanking off the skates.

“You did good for a first timer,” Trace grinned, mussing his hair.

I laughed. Who was he trying to fool?

“I’m pretty sure I drew blood from squeezing your arm. I don’t call that good,” I peered up at him.

He sat next to me and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt.

Sure enough, there were five, very red, half-moon indents. A trickle of blood had escaped one of the marks and dried on his arm.

“Told ya,” I picked up the skates and headed to where I’d left my shoes.

Trace followed behind me, his skates dangling from his fingers.

“I still think you did good,” he stated and I saw him shrug out of the corner of my eye.

“You’re such a liar,” I scolded him, sitting down to put my shoes on.

He smirked, his lips upturned on one corner. “Okay, maybe I am, but I’m not lying now.”

I rolled my eyes and wadded up Trace’s socks. “I’ll wash these before I give them back,” I tried to put them in my purse, which I had grabbed from the cubby my shoes had been in, but Trace reached out and snagged them from me.

“I know how to work a washing machine, Olivia,” he grinned. “I promise,” he added. “I even know how to add fabric softener. Smell, it’s Mountain Spring,” he said sarcastically, holding the end of his shirt under my nose.

“Fine, wash them,” I stood. “It’s not like they’re dirty from my feet or anything.”

“I’m not afraid of your dirty socks, Olivia,” he grinned, leaning against the wall. His green eyes sparkled with carefully contained laughter.

“Technically they’re
your
dirty socks,” I walked over to the counter to return the roller skates.

“Ah,” he followed after me, “they may be my socks, but you’re the one that dirtied them.”

“Why are we still talking about socks?” I stopped, throwing my hands in the air, and he ran into me. “I told you that I would wash them.”

“I like messing with you,” he made his way around me, sauntering cockily up to the counter and dropping his skates loudly.

I returned my skates as well and followed Trace out the door.

He made sure to hold each door for me and I thought it was sweet.