Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (65 page)

I rolled my eyes. “Just as sure as I was the last ten times you asked me.”

“Just checking,” he chuckled, getting in the driver’s side. He patted the dashboard and said, “Let’s roll.”

Trent’s townhouse was surprisingly nice. I shouldn’t have been surprised though. Even before I came along, Trace’s apartment had been pristine and didn’t resemble the typical bachelor pad.

While the furniture and wall colors were of a masculine variety, nothing screamed that he was a college freshman living on his own.

A furry creature ran between my feet and I let out a yelp.

At my cry, Ace began to bark and tried to pull the leash from Trace’s hand so he could run after it.

“Bartholomew! Come back!” Trent chased after the ferret. “I swear I put him away!” Trent called to us. “He’s a little escape artist! Aha! Got him!” Trent exclaimed, grabbing up the furry little creature. “Bad,” he scolded the ferret, before putting it back in its cage. He ran his hand through his hair and smiled crookedly. “Sorry about that.”

“Yeah, well,” Trace said dryly, “are you sure you can handle this?”

“Having doubts about me so soon?” Trent batted his eyelashes. “I’m offended. Especially after you forced me to agree to this.”

“I didn’t force you,” Trace groaned.

Trent raised a brow.

“Okay, so maybe I
was
a little pushy,” Trace shrugged.

“A little?” Trent shook his head and then smiled at me. “I don’t know how you put up with this idiot.”

“Sometimes I wonder myself,” I laughed.

“We need to get on the road,” Trace held the leash out for Trent to take.

I bent and said goodbye to Ace, then hugged Trent.

“Thank you for doing this,” I whispered in his ear so Trace couldn’t hear, “I’m sorry he was so bossy.”

“It’s fine,” he whispered back, “I like to give him a hard time.”

Trace was watching us with narrowed eyes. “I know you two are talking about me. I’m not stupid.”

“Never thought you were,” Trent smacked his brother on the shoulder, “now get out of my house. I don’t want to see your sorry ass for at least two weeks.”

“How I got stuck with you for a brother is beyond me,” Trace shook his head as he left.

“Have fun,” Trent chuckled, waving goodbye to me.

I waved back, closing the door behind me.

Trace was already waiting in the Camaro with his sunglasses on and the windows rolled down.

“Where are we heading first?” I asked, buckling my seatbelt.

“Pittsburgh,” he answered, speeding out of the neighborhood, and making a sharp turn. If he slung me against the door so help me—

“Trace!” I groaned, when my shoulder slammed against the door. “Don’t do that! It hurts!”

“Sorry,” he grinned, so I knew he really wasn’t sorry.

“Why are we going to Pittsburgh?” I rubbed my shoulder.

“It’s a surprise,” he sat back, a small smile playing on his lips.

“You and surprises … I’m not sure I’m fond of this idea,” I eyed him.

“It’s nothing
bad
. I promise.”

“Now I’m scared,” I pulled my hair to the side and began to braid it. Leaving it down to whip around my face was not an option in my book. I didn’t want to spend an hour having to untangle the wavy ends because Trace had the windows down.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he took my hand, “that makes the end result all the more fun.”

“You have a twisted sense of logic,” I laughed, tucking my legs underneath me.

“There’s a method to my madness,” he squeezed my hand. “Wait and see.”

And that’s how I found myself parked outside of the old Heinz factory that now served as a museum on the company and the city of Pittsburgh. There was a large lit up ketchup bottle that was filling up the Heinz sign with ‘ketchup.’

“Really, Trace? Really?” I placed my hands on my hips and stared him down. “Ketchup? That’s the first thing you want to do on this road trip?”

“It’s a
museum
dedicated to the founder of the
best
ketchup
, of course this was the first thing I thought of. Don’t ever doubt my love of ketchup,” he grinned, sliding out of the car, and opening the trunk.

I followed, eyeing him with suspicion.

“What are you doing?” I asked as he rummaged through his suitcase.

He held a hand, halting me.

I sighed, taking a step back and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Found it!” He cried, pulling out a red piece of fabric and zipping his suitcase closed. Much to my dismay he began to remove his trusty plaid shirt and wife-beater in the middle of the parking lot. He dropped the garments in the trunk and closed it before putting the red shirt on.

I snorted when I saw that it was his I Love Ketchup shirt I’d bought him a few years ago.

“What?” He grinned, his eyes a light playful green. “I can’t come to the former Heinz ketchup factory without my ketchup shirt. It would be blasphemy.”

“Of course it would,” I laughed, letting him lead me into the building.

He paid the ten-dollar entrance fee and then dragged me around like an excited little kid. He oohed and ahhed, pointing out things here and there that he thought was fascinating.

“I like your shirt,” one guy said in passing.

“Thanks!” Trace called after him. “See?” He smirked at me, fighting a laugh. “People love my shirt.”

“Are you forgetting I bought it for you?”

“No,” he draped his arm over my shoulders, “I’m just pointing out its obvious awesomeness since you can’t seem to see it.”

We completed the tour and then he dragged me into the store area.

He raced straight towards the apparel section and grabbed a shirt. He turned and held it out to me. “Look, Olivia! We can be twinsies!”

“Oh God,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “There’s no way I’m wearing that,” I glared at the red shirt with the Heinz ketchup label on it.

“Please, for me?” He pouted.

Ten minutes later I found myself wearing the stupid shirt. Damn him and his persuasive ways. Those pouty lips and green eyes were always my undoing.

I tugged on the shirt as I followed him outside and towards the car.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I grumbled, staring down at the shirt.

He chuckled. “You look cute in it.”

“You’re a liar. I look ridiculous,” I shielded my eyes from the sun with my hand.

He stopped in his tracks in front of me. He stared down at me, cupping both of my cheeks in his large hands. “I would never lie to you, Olivia. You are cute, and beautiful, and smart, and amazing, and a thousand other things.”

“Now someone’s just trying to get laid.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he smirked, “the sex is great, but it’s not why I love you.”

“Good to know,” I smiled up at him.

“Hungry?” He asked, opening the passenger car door for me.

“Starving,” I admitted just as my stomach let out a very unladylike growl.

He laughed at the sound.

He entered something into his phone and a minute later it was directing us to a restaurant.

We pulled up in front of a place with a large lit up sign in blue letters that declared it as Primanti Brothers.

“Have you been here before?” I asked him as I got out of the car. I knew Trace and his family used to travel a lot, especially when his dad was still alive.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “You’re about to feast upon a heart attack on bread.”

“I’m a bit afraid now,” I eyed him apprehensively.

“Don’t worry, it’s delicious and you’ll love it.”

“
That’s
what I’m afraid of,” I laughed. I glanced down at my new shirt and then at his. “People are going to think we’re so weird.”

“Weird is beautiful,” he kissed my cheek.

“You have such a way with words,” I poked his side as he held the door open for me.

“I once won a poetry contest,” he smirked, adjusting his glasses as we stepped into the dim restaurant.

“Sure you did,” I laughed in disbelief as we picked a table. I grabbed one of the menus off the table and began to flick through it. “Wait, they put fries and coleslaw
on
the sandwich, not on the side?”

Trace nodded, tapping his fingers against the wood tabletop as he perused the menu.

I studied a picture of one of the sandwiches, my mouth dropping open in disbelief. How the hell were you supposed to take a bite of that monster? It was huge!

Trace slammed his hand down on the menu, blocking my view of the picture.

“Don’t look at it,” he smiled, “you’ll get overwhelmed and it’s not like you have to eat it all.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat one bite.”

“Trust me,” his tongue flicked out to wet his lips, “it’s delicious. Want me to order for you?”

“Sure,” I shrugged as he slid my menu away. Trace had known me long enough to know what I liked and didn’t like.

A waitress came and he placed our order.

Once she had walked away, I asked, “What are we doing next? Are we staying here a bit longer or heading somewhere else?”

“So many questions,” he chuckled, spinning the peppershaker along the tabletop. “I thought maybe we’d head towards Philadelphia. I’m a big history dork,” he winked, “it probably comes from living where there’s so many Civil War battlefields and museums. Anyway,” he crossed his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair, “I’ve never been to Philadelphia and I’ve always wanted to see the Liberty Bell and go to the museums in the area.”

“Sounds good to me,” I shrugged. “I’m down for anything.”

He grinned widely and I knew I was in trouble.

“I’m glad you said that,” he smirked.

“As long as it’s not something that might possibly get me killed,” I warned him. “Or arrested.”

“Done,” he crossed his arms over his chest. “You know,” he leaned towards me, “I should probably be offended that you think I might possibly subject you to something dangerous. You’re the one that made me get in a hot air balloon that one time.”

“
You
surprised me,” I argued. “You didn’t have to do it.”

“But I did,” he grinned, pushing his hair from his eyes.

“Don’t complain about it then.”

“You’re mean,” he chuckled.

“You know,” I leaned towards him conspiratorially, “it surprises me that you were scared, what with the tattoos and bad boy demeanor you’re always sporting.”

“Hey,” he defended with a grin, “I’m not afraid of heights. I just couldn’t handle the teetering basket thing. What if it tipped all the way over and we fell to our death without any protection?”

“If that was the case, then I don’t think anyone would ever get in one. They’re safe,” I explained as the waitress set our drinks on the table. Mmm, sweet tea. I’d never tried the stuff until I moved to Virginia, but I was now a sweet tea addict.

“Obviously,” he smiled in amusement. “We’re still alive, aren’t we?” He raised his glass of water, taking a sip.

“Yeah, we are,” I mumbled, overcome by sadness. We were alive, we were healthy, and we had our whole lives ahead of us. But Gramps …

“Olivia?” Trace said my name hesitantly, placing his hand overtop of mine where it rested on the table. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”

“It’s nothing,” I took a shaky breath.

“Oh,” he frowned as realization hit him. “You’re thinking of Gramps.”

I nodded.

“You know,” he started, biting down his lips, “I understand that every life has a limit. I watched my dad die and I almost did the same with you,” his eyes grew sad. “But that doesn’t make it any easier. When you look at someone, you don’t see an expiration date. You see
life
and that makes death so much harder to accept.”

His words were true. I turned my hand underneath his so that it was palm up and gave it a squeeze.

“You’re so wise,” I smiled.

“Hardly,” he snorted. “I’ve just had way too much experience with this. Seeing my dad killed tore me apart, Olivia. You
never
get over something like that. Then having to watch you dying in front of me, and being unable to do anything to save you, was another blow. Watching you in that hospital, waiting for you to wake up,” the lines of his face darkened and his lips turned down, “I vowed then to never watch another person I loved have to suffer that way. I
can’t
do it. I know that’s weak of me,” he laughed humorlessly, “but it’s true. Going on this road trip might be taking the cowardly way out. But I
have
to. I can’t stay home and watch Gramps wither away. Especially with the others not knowing,” he took his hand from mine and rubbed his stubbled jaw. His eyes had a faraway look in them.