Free Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set by Micalea Smeltzer Page A

a hand over my mouth to stifle my laugh, as I pictured Trace dancing in the middle of the grocery store, or some other odd place.
    “That’s very—uh—interesting,” I giggled.
    “Hey, you’re the one that wanted to know something about me,” he shrugged, with his residual smirk.
    “Right you are,” I smiled as a girl appeared on Trace’s side of the car, with a tray full of food, and drinks.
    Trace sat up, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. I didn’t even bother fumbling through my purse for mine. I knew Trace wouldn’t accept any money for my meal. Stubborn man.
    He took the food and drinks, placing them on the bench seat in his car.
    He handed her a bill and waved her away.
    “Raspberry tea for the lady,” he handed me a Styrofoam cup. Since there were no cup holders, I held it between my knees. “Tater tots and a hotdog,” he placed the items on the seat with a wad of napkins, before pulling out identical items for himself. “And,” he pointed to the two extra cups, “these are our desert.”
    “What is it? A chocolate shake?” I inspected the top of it.
    Trace grimaced. “No, it’s a chocolate malt. There’s a big difference. Prepare to have your world rocked,” he chuckled, ripping open a packet of ketchup, and dumping it on his tater tots. “Want some?” He held up another packet.
    I shook my head. “I hate ketchup.”
    He gasped. “How is it possible to hate ketchup? It’s one of the single most delicious food items ever .”
    “It’s gross,” I glared at the red goo covering his tater tots.
    “Suit yourself,” he popped one in his mouth.
    I happily ate a plain, non-ketchup drenched, tater tot, and Trace chuckled.
    “You are one interesting girl, Olivia Owens,” he commented, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
    “Interesting is always better than boring,” I smiled, biting into the hotdog. “This is really good,” I pointed to the food.
    He stretched his arm along the bench seat. “Told ya.”
    We finished eating and stayed parked to drink our chocolate malts. It was thick but delicious. Trace kept smiling at me as I drank the malt.
    “What?” I asked.
    “Nothing,” he grinned, shaking his head. His dark hair fell over his green eyes and he promptly pushed it back.
    “No, you’re thinking something,” I insisted. “Tell me.”
    “It’s just…who would’ve thought that the girl I stopped to help with her flat tire, would be sitting in my car right now. I’m just…I’m glad I met you,” he shrugged.
    “I’m glad I met you too,” I smiled.
    He grinned cockily. “I’m sure you are.”
    I rolled my eyes. “You’re so cocky.”
    “No, I’m confident. There’s a big difference in confident and cocky,” he winked, taking the straw into his mouth, and my eyes followed the movement of his lips. Those lips should be illegal and I hadn’t even had a taste yet.
    I blushed at my thoughts and turned away from him.
    “Why do you do that?” Trace asked, perplexed.
    “Do what?” I questioned, reluctantly turning to face him.
    “Blush and then look away. I know you’re still blushing even if I can’t see you,” he leaned against the driver’s side door to face me fully.
    “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I guess it’s a defense mechanism.”
    “Why do you need to be defensive about blushing? It’s a perfectly normal reaction,” he licked a drop of chocolate malt from his lip and my heart stuttered in my chest.
    I took a deep breath and stuck my finger into the whipped cream. “You don’t understand the kind of home I grew up in,” I reasoned, licking off the whipped cream.
    His green eyes darkened as he watched my finger. I blushed again. I wished I could turn off the blushing, but around Trace my cheeks seemed to have a permanent rosy hue.
    “Then make me understand,” he insisted.
    “Not today,” I sighed. “I’m having a good time and I don’t want to ruin it by talking about things that I wish would stay in the past.”
    “Fair