Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (15 page)

I could do this.

I sang at home all the time, even my dad had praised my voice, and tried to talk me into joining the choir at his church. That was one thing I refused to do to please him, I was too shy, and he wouldn’t have taken kindly to me throwing up on his patrons. The only non-family member who had heard me sing was Avery. Which happened by accident when she walked into our dorm early and I was singing. But even Avery had complimented my voice.

I took the microphone from the man working the machine and told him the song I wanted to sing.

“You sure, darlin’?” He questioned me in a thick southern accent, something even more southern than Virginia.

“Positive,” I gripped the microphone tightly in my hand, my knuckles turning white.

I swallowed down the bile in my throat as the first notes of the song filled the air while everyone in the restaurant turned to see who was singing.

I closed my eyes but promptly opened them, locking my gaze on Trace’s. If I looked into his eyes, and at no one else, I could do this.

He smiled encouragingly as the song reached the part where I was to start singing.

I sang the opening lines of LeAnn Rimes song,
I Need You
, and everyone grew silent. My voice was shaky at first but quickly grew stronger as I blocked everyone out and focused solely on Trace.

“‘I need you like water, like breath, like rain. I need you like mercy from Heaven’s gate. There’s a freedom in your arms that carries me through. I need you.’”

Trace’s jaw dropped open and his eyes widened at the sound of my voice.

My mom always told me that I had a soft but powerful voice. Whatever that meant. I just liked to sing…as long as no one else was listening.

But right now,
everyone
was listening. The patrons, the bartender, the waitresses, even one of the cooks.

But most importantly, Trace was listening to me sing, and I didn’t feel sick.

I felt…happy.

My eyes never wavered from his as I sang, like as if he was holding me up and giving me the power to do this, and maybe he was.

I still wasn’t able to explain what drew me to Trace and what made me trust him.

There was just…something about him.

“‘I neeeed you,’” the song ended and the place erupted into applause, causing my heart to soar.

I smiled, bowing to the crowd gathered.

I had done it.

I sang in front of people. Real. Live. Breathing. People. That weren’t family or Avery.

“Sing again!” Someone hollered out.

I blushed.

I wasn’t sure I could do that again.

But then, Trace was stepping in front of me, “Sing with me,” he pleaded, and I found myself nodding in agreement.

Trace named off a song to the guy, but I was back to freaking out, so I didn’t hear what it was.

I was about to sing a duet with Trace Wentworth. If I thought my stomach was in knots before, this was ten—no a hundred—times worse.

The lyrics came up on the screen.

Oh, God.

We were going to sing
Just a Kiss
by Lady Antebellum.

I began singing first, and instead of looking at the crowd gathered in the restaurant, I found myself facing Trace.

“‘Lying here with you so close to me, it’s hard to fight these feelings, when it feels so hard to breathe. Caught up in this moment, caught up in your smile,’” I sang.

It got to the first part he was supposed to sing, and holy cow! The man could sing!

Was there anything that he couldn’t do?

“‘I’ve never opened up to anyone. So hard to hold back when I’m holding you in my arms,’” he sang to me.

He stared into my eyes as he sang every word, and surprisingly, I didn’t blush. But I did swoon.

We joined in, singing the chorus together, and our voices blended together like the song was meant for us to sing. “‘We don’t need to rush this, let’s just take it slow. Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight. Just a touch of the fire burning too bright. No, I don’t want to mess this thing up. I don’t want to push too far. Just a shot in the dark that you just might be the one I’ve been waiting for my whole life. So baby I’m alright, with just a kiss goodnight.’”

Every time Trace sang the word, kiss, my heart soared.

We leaned towards each other, smiling as we sang each word. His green eyes sparkled with pleasure.

I had never felt happier than I did in this moment.

I sang each word with every ounce of passion I had in my body, portraying through lyrics what I couldn’t say, and I knew Trace was doing the same. He picked this song for a reason.

The last note came to a close.

Trace and I were oblivious to everyone else; we only had eyes for each other.

A grin lit his face and he cupped my cheek with one hand. My chest rose and fell with labored breaths.

“I knew you could do it, Olivia,” he whispered, his thumb grazing over my bottom lip.

“You did?” I asked breathlessly.

“Okay, maybe not,” he chuckled, leaning his forehead against mine.

I laughed too. “You mean you thought I might suck?”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged, his hand still cupping my cheek, and his impossibly green eyes seared me to the spot. “I don’t expect you to be perfect at everything, Olivia. I mean,” he grinned, “you definitely were horrible at painting.”

I poked his side.

“Ow!” He feigned pain, because I definitely hadn’t poked him that hard. Still grinning, since he never seemed to stop, he said, “You were amazing, honestly.”

“So were you,” I replied. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

Trace opened his mouth to say something when a throat clearing over his shoulder interrupted our bubble.

“Uh—if you two are done, there are other people that would like to sing,” the man running the karaoke machine told us.

I blushed, and was sure Trace felt the heat infusing my cheeks, where his palm rested against one.

“Sorry, sir,” Trace chuckled, taking my hand, and leading me back to our table.

My sweet tea sat in its glass and I slurped at it greedily. Singing always made me impossibly thirsty.

Trace picked up his chocolate shake, stirring in the whipped cream. I saw that he’d already drank about half of the massive thing.

“I didn’t know you could sing,” I repeated.

“Oh,” he waved a hand, “I don’t.”

“I beg to differ,” I eyed him, “your voice is amazing.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s average, there’s a big difference.”

I snorted. “If you think your voice is average I’d love to know what you think is extraordinary.”

He snapped his fingers together. “Steven Tyler has an extraordinary voice,” he reasoned. “Aerosmith is one of the greatest bands ever.”

“Says the man who was dancing to a song talking about blowing the roof off the place,” I shook my head.

“Hey, variety is the spice of life,” his eyes sparkled. “I can’t help it that I enjoy different styles of music. Old rock and techno happen to be my favorites.” He grinned and took a sip of his shake.

“You’re nuts,” I muttered.

“Sanity is overrated,” he winked, flashing me his cocky grin. “So,” he licked his lips, “think I can convince you to sing another song?”

“No,” I shook my head. “I’m done…for now,” I added.

“As long as I get to hear your voice again. It’s beautiful,” his lips wrapped around the straw. I had no idea how Trace made the simplest of things seem sexy.

“Uhmm,” I muttered in agreement, finishing off my sweet tea.

Trace placed his empty shake glass at the end of the table.

He pulled his wallet out and left enough money to cover everything.

“Ready to get out of here?” He asked.

“Yeah,” I smiled, sliding out of the booth.

As we made our way to the door, more than one person stopped to tell me that I had a beautiful voice.

One older man, stopped Trace and said, “She’s a keeper lad. A forever girl, that one,” he pointed at me. “Don’t let her get away like I did,” he nodded before slapping Trace across the back and waddling away. We didn’t have a chance to explain that we weren’t a couple.

I burst into laughter when we finally made it outside. “A forever girl?” I giggled.

Trace stuffed his hands in his pockets, brows knitted together, suddenly serious. I wasn’t used to serious Trace.

“But you
are
a forever girl,” he murmured, halting his steps.

I stopped too, waiting for him. “What does that even mean?”

He looked up, tilting his head to study me. “You’re not the kind of girl that guys fool around with, Olivia. You’re the kind of girl, that when a guy finds her, he’ll do everything he can to keep her.”

My breath hitched.

Trace strode by me, straight for his car, leaving me standing there, reeling.

His jaw was tense and his eyes were serious when I finally managed to get in the car.

He drove me straight to the University.

“My car-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s here in the morning,” he replied before I could even finish my sentence.

Okay, then.

I went to get out of the car but Trace’s hand closed around my arm.

“Wait,” he pleaded, so I did.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just studied my face, almost as if he was searching for something.

“Take a walk with me,” he murmured.

“It’s cold,” I whined.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, and reached into the backseat, handing me a sweatshirt. “Wear this,” he commanded.

I slipped on the sweatshirt, wondering what was going on in his head. Trace was rarely so serious.

I followed along beside him as we walked on the sidewalk.

He stopped when we reached the pavilion.

It was one of my favorite places on campus. It was beautiful with its copper top and the water surrounding it. Peaceful. Avery thought it was weird, but I often read out here, and even did my homework here on occasion. I liked being outside. Something about the outdoors always made me feel at home. I loved the smell of the freshly mowed grass and the lilies in the spring. Even on days like this, when it was cold and blustery, I still found a reason to enjoy being outside.

Trace leaned against the railing, separating the pavilion from the water.

I stared at the fountain in the middle of the manmade pond, waiting for Trace to say something.

Even though it was late, students were still milling around campus, but the pavilion was empty except for the two of us.

Trace clasped his hands together and his jaw was rigid. He turned his head towards me and I studied his handsome face like it was the last time I’d see him, which I was sure it was. I was convinced that he was about to tell me that he couldn’t help me with my list anymore and that he never wanted to see me again.

He looked so sad and serious, I knew nothing good could come from whatever he wanted to say.

“I enjoyed singing with you tonight,” he murmured, standing to his full height so he towered over me.

“I enjoyed singing with you too,” I stuttered, looking at the ground, waiting for him to shatter my heart.

He stepped forward, so his boots were in my line of vision, butted right up against my Converse.

“Olivia,” he murmured, and I shivered at the way he said my name, his voice a husky whisper.

Slowly, I looked up, and my eyes connected with his.

Every time Trace looked at me like this, I was convinced he was seeing straight through me, right to my very soul, and uncovering all of my hidden secrets.

“There’s something I’ve wanted to do ever since I met you,” his voice grew softer, but every word was like a shout to me, as he lowered his head and his mouth came closer to mine.

“What?” I asked, like an idiot, just before his lips pressed against mine.

A fire erupted inside me, a fire only Trace created, and I found myself wrapping my arms around his neck, reaching up on my tiptoes to kiss him thoroughly.

His lips were soft, a direct contrast to the stubble on his cheeks rasping against my sensitive skin, and I was tempted to beg him to never stop kissing me. It felt so good.

I knew that this is what kisses were supposed to be like, magical.

I pressed my body firmly against his. Even through the thick sweatshirt I was wearing, I felt the hard ridges of his body, and I trembled.

His tongue skated against my bottom lip and my mouth opened in response.

One of his hands cupped the back of my neck while the other ventured over my shoulder, down my arm, and over my back, before settling at my waist and pressing me firmly against him.

Holy Hell.

I gasped against his mouth and he groaned in response.

My body moved against his like it was programmed to respond to everything he did to me.

He lightly nipped my bottom lip and I cried out in surprise.

That seemed to shock him, and his hands dropped from my body, his lips leaving mine.

I suddenly felt very cold.

My fingers touched my lips, finding them to be surprisingly tender.

Then again, I had never been kissed like that, so maybe they were supposed to be sore.

Trace’s eyes had darkened with lust, but he looked tormented, his jaw was clenched once more and his hands were fisted at his sides.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he groaned. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, before turning around and walking away, as fast as humanly possible.

What. The. Hell?

I had just been given the most amazing kiss of my life, of
anyone’s
life, and he was apologizing and walking away?

Had I done something wrong?

Was I a bad kisser?

A million thoughts tumbled through my mind as I began to cry, standing there, willing him to come back and tell me this was a joke.

But it wasn’t.

Trace had kissed me and now he was gone.