Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (72 page)

“I’m what?” He prodded. “Sexy? Amazing? A great singer? Because I already know all of that,” he turned on his side, looking up at me.

“You’re just … you,” I shrugged, wrapping my arms around my legs.

“And there’s no one else I’d rather be,” he winked.

Sarah, Marcus’ six year old daughter, walked up behind Trace and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hi,” she waved at him.

“Hello, Princess Sarah,” Trace grinned crookedly as he rolled over to face her. “What can I do for you?”

“Will you dance with me?” She asked sweetly, holding out a small hand for Trace to take.

Marcus had turned on his iPod and hooked it up to a docking station. Music pumped around us and I found my head bobbing along as I smiled at the scene playing out before me.

“Sure, sweetie,” he smiled at her and I swear she blushed. Apparently, even small children weren’t immune to Trace’s charms.

He turned to me and whispered, “Don’t be jealous,” before hopping up and taking Sarah’s small hand. She led him away and I heard Trace tell her she was a bit too short for him. He swept her up into his arms, holding her close. Her giggle filled the air. She wrapped her arms around his neck as they swayed to the music. My heart swelled. In my mind, Trace wasn’t holding Sarah. Instead he was holding our daughter. I had always known Trace would make an amazing father, but I’d never seen him around kids before. He was a natural.

I watched them closely, choked up on an emotion I couldn’t begin to describe. If it was possible, I fell a little bit more in love with him in that moment.

Jamie appeared in front of me, blocking my view of Trace and Sarah. He smiled, displaying a gap in his mouth from missing teeth.

“Come on,” he grabbed my hand, trying to pull me up, “they’re dancing. We should too.”

I laughed, taking his hand. Jamie was eight but he was almost my height. That’s what I got for being short.

“You’re pretty,” he said to me.

I laughed. “Thank you, Jamie. You’re quite handsome yourself.”

He beamed at that. “Dad says you’re staying the night at our house. You can sleep in my bed. I promise I don’t snore like my dad.”

I laughed. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think that will be possible.”

“Why not?” He frowned, his nose crinkling.

“I think my fiancé might not like that very much,” I whispered, like I was letting him in on a secret.

Jamie glanced to his right, where Trace and Sarah were currently spinning in circles, and looked Trace up and down as if sizing him up.

After a moment, he looked back at me. “I can take him,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

I threw my head back in laughter. “I’m sure you could,” I assured him, before I hurt the little boy’s feelings with my outburst.

“I’m very strong,” he boasted. “My dad says I’m going to be a fighter one day. He doesn’t like it when I fight with my sister though.”

“Fighting with sisters isn’t very nice,” I told him.

“I know,” he shrugged, “but she’s always taking my stuff. Doesn’t she know my toys are for boys and hers are for girls?” He looked at me seriously, waiting for an answer.

I smiled down at the eight-year-old boy. “Sometimes, siblings take each other’s stuff just to make the other one mad.”

Jamie glared at his little sister in Trace’s arms. “Well, that’s not very nice. I don’t touch her Barbie’s. Those things are gross.”

“I’m sure you’re not always nice to your sister.”

“Well,” he shrugged, frowning, “there was that one time I colored on her dolls. But she stole my Pokémon cards. So it was only fair,” he reasoned.

Ah, sibling logic. I hadn’t had to deal with that growing up, but I’d learned a few things being around Trace and Trent, as well as Avery and her brothers. Even as adults they were still picking on each other. I mean, Trace was twenty-four and Trent was nineteen, and those two were always arguing over something goofy and irrelevant.

“Do you have a brother or sister?” Jamie asked me.

“Not yet,” I shook my head. “But I will soon.”

“How?” He tilted his head. “You’re old.”

I frowned. I would’ve been better off to have told him no. Now, I was stuck explaining my complicated life to an eight year old. “It’s a long story,” I finally said, hoping that sufficed.

“I like stories,” he shrugged his small shoulders. “You can tell me. I’m a good listener, promise.”

“I’m sure you are,” I smiled at him. “But it’s not something I like to talk about.”

“Oh,” he frowned. “That’s okay.”

The music cut off and we stopped dancing.

“
Dad
,” Jamie groaned. “We were dancing.”

“Sorry, bud,” Marcus smiled at his son, “but it’s way past your bedtime. We need to get home.”

“Fun sucker,” Jamie grumbled, heading towards his dad with a lowered head.

“What did you say?” Marcus’ voice was stern but he was fighting a smile.

“Nothing, dad,” Jamie mumbled as he climbed into the SUV.

I turned to find Trace still holding Sarah, carefully rocking her in his arms. She was holding on tightly to his neck and her eyes were closed as she breathed deeply. I think my heart stopped beating for a moment before kicking into overdrive.

He carried her to the car and strapped her in her booster seat.

“We’ll follow you,” Trace said to Marcus.

Marcus didn’t live that far from the lake, we had only driven about five minutes when we pulled into the driveway of a modest sized home.

Sarah had woken up on the ride home and when she got out of the car, she came running to Trace. He immediately bent down so that he was on her eyelevel.

“What is it princess?” He asked.

“Will you read me a story? Mommy normally reads to me, but I want you to,” she twisted her shirt between her small fingers, looking bashfully at the ground as she waited for his reply.

“Sure,” Trace smiled, “as long as that’s okay with your mommy and daddy.”

“Thank you!” She hugged him tightly.

Marcus held the front door open and Sarah went running inside.

Trace grabbed our bags, refusing to let me carry mine.

“The guestroom’s this way,” Rebecca smiled pleasantly, leading us past a homey family room and nice kitchen. Kids toys were scattered about. “I’m sorry for the mess,” she apologized. “I can never get them to put their toys away, and the minute I clean them up they drag another fifty out.” She stopped in front of a door at the back of the house and opened it. “It’s not much,” she smiled. “But it’s clean and there’s an attached bathroom.”

“Thank you so much for opening your home to us. Most people wouldn’t do that,” I hugged her.

“It’s not a problem, honestly.” Looking at Trace, she added, “You don’t need to read Sarah a story. I know she can be pushy.”

“I want to,” Trace said quickly.

“Are you sure?” Rebecca asked hesitantly.

“Positive,” Trace nodded.

“Well … okay then,” she smiled, heading back towards the kitchen. “I’ll get her ready for bed. There’s shampoo, conditioner, and body wash in the shower. Feel free to use it.”

I stepped into the bedroom and Trace closed the door. The carpet was plush under my feet and the room smelled of fresh linen, courtesy of one of those plug-in outlet things.

I couldn’t believe we’d lucked out in meeting Marcus … even if I did end up jumping off a bridge in the process.

“You can shower first,” I told him, sitting on the edge of the bed. The mattress was nice and soft, nothing like the rock we’d slept on last night.

“Or,” he bent down and pressed his forehead against mine, “we could shower together.”

“Nice try, but we’re in someone else’s house.”

“I’ll be a good boy, I promise,” he coaxed.

“Mhmm, I’ll believe that when … well, never,” I smiled.

“Thanks for believing in me,” he released my cheeks and backed towards the bathroom. “I’m glad you have so much faith in me.”

I tossed one of the pillows from the bed at him.

“Oooh, you want a pillow fight?” He waggled his brows.

“No, I’d like for you to shower so that I can. I smell gross,” I frowned.

He wrinkled his nose playfully. “Is it
you
that I’ve been smelling?”

“Stop it,” I rolled my eyes, falling back on the bed.

He chuckled as he gathered something to change into. “It’s a legitimate question,” he started for the bathroom.

“Don’t act like you don’t smell either,” I grumbled.

“That’s my natural manly musk. Don’t diss it,” he chortled, closing the door. A moment later the shower started up.

I didn’t have anything to do so I figured I should be a nice daughter and call my mom so I could give her an update on our progress. Before we left, she’d told me to call her every day. So far, I was sucking at that.

“Liv?” She answered on the second ring.

“Hey mom,” I replied, laying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

“You didn’t call me yesterday. I was worried, but I thought maybe I shouldn’t call you.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that, mom. I suck. I was so tired that I forgot,” I stifled a yawn.

“You sound like you’re tired now,” she laughed.

“I am.”

“What have you been up to?” She asked.

“Trace made me jump off a bridge,” I said nonchalantly.

“He what?!” She screamed so I had to hold the phone away from ear.

“We went bungee jumping. It was actually pretty fun,” I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see me.

“Geez, way to give your mom a heart attack, Liv.”

“Sorry. I didn’t think about the way that would sound,” I apologized. I didn’t need to scare my poor mother into going into labor early.

“So, besides bungee jumping, what else did you do?” Her tone was clipped and I knew she was still fretting over the bungee jumping. I shouldn’t have told her. Lesson learned.

“We went to the Heinz museum yesterday, and this morning we saw the Liberty Bell and toured Independence Hall.”

“Where are you now?”

“New York,” I adjusted one of the pillows behind my back.

“At least you’re making progress,” she commented. “I better get to bed.”

“Of course,” I looked at the time, feeling bad that I’d called her after ten. “Love you, mom.”

“I love you too, Liv.”

I had just put my phone away when the bathroom door opened and steam billowed out. Trace stood in a pair of low hanging pajama bottoms and a t-shirt.

“Gotta keep it decent for the kiddos,” he winked, heading for the door. He turned back to me and swiped his thumb across my lip. “You had a little drool there. I didn’t know my plaid pajama pants would turn you on so much or I would’ve whipped these bad boys out a long time ago.”

I blushed at his words.
Curse you, traitorous cheeks!

“Now that you’re sufficiently flustered, I have a story to read,” he opened the door.

“I hate you,” I spat playfully before the door closed.

“Sure you do,” he called.

I grabbed a clean pair of pajamas and stepped into the bathroom. It was nothing like the bathroom we’d had to use at the motel yesterday. It was fairly large to be attached to a guestroom and kept tidy and clean. I turned the water on and stripped out of my clothes, more than happy to
finally
wash the lake scum off of me. I pulled the ponytail holder out of my hair and let it fall down my back. I stuck my hand under the spray to test the temperature and when I found that it was perfect, I stepped inside.

An embarrassing gasp of pleasure escaped my lips. I had taken for granted just how great a nice shower was.

I lathered my hair with the shampoo and scrubbed my body with the blueberry scented body wash.
Goodbye, lake scum!

I rinsed the shampoo from my hair and then slathered it with conditioner. If I didn’t use the stuff, my hair knotted into a curly ball that was impossible to tame.

When I got out of the shower and into clean pajamas I felt like a whole new person.

I wiped the condensation from the mirror and gasped at the nasty bruise around my eye. It hadn’t been pretty this morning, but it was even worse now. I hadn’t brought my makeup into the bathroom because I’d forgotten about the bruise. But I knew I had to hide it. Not just for Trace’s sake, but because if Rebecca and Marcus saw it I knew they’d assume that Trace had hit me. Which was
so
not the case.

I locked the bathroom door, just in case Trace came back, and went to work hiding the bruise. The skin around my eye was extremely tender and I found myself wincing when I applied too much pressure. Only I could fall on the floor and get a black eye from it. That took major skill.

I eyed my reflection carefully, inspecting my face to make sure none of the bruise showed. When I saw that it was completely covered up, I put the foundation bottle back in my make-up bag and zipped it up. I knew it was only a matter of time until Trace learned about the bruise, but I figured the longer I could keep it hidden, the better.

I ventured out of the bedroom, hoping to get a glass of water before I went to bed.

I stopped in the hallway outside a door when I heard Trace singing. I pushed the door open slightly with the tips of my fingers.

I bit my lip to stifle my soft sigh.

Sarah was curled on top of Trace’s chest as he ran his fingers through her soft dark hair. I didn’t know what song he was singing, it wasn’t a lullaby, but it was a slow sweet song. A book lay forgotten to the side.

He cracked his eyes open and spotted me in the doorway. He brought a finger up to his lips in a shushing motion. I stood there for a moment longer, watching him sing to the sleeping girl.

I didn’t want to rifle through Marcus and Rebecca’s things so I was lucky enough to find them in the family room watching TV.

“Hey,” I said quietly and Marcus turned at the sound of my voice. “Do you mind if I grab a bottle of water or something.”

“Help yourself,” Rebecca smiled pleasantly, “you’re our guest.”

“Thank you,” I smiled, backing into the kitchen. I couldn’t believe that Marcus and Rebecca were being so kind to us. I mean, they didn’t
know
us. I guess they thought we seemed trustworthy. I know Trace had that effect on me. It was the only reason I ended up blabbing to him about my Live List. He was one of those people that upon meeting them, you knew you could trust them with anything and they’d never judge you.