Page 112 of Finding Olivia (Trace + Olivia 1)

“Wow,” I gasped in awe. “Are you sure we’re still in Virginia?”

“I’m sure,” he chuckled.

“This place belongs in Beverly Hills,” I murmured, turning around to face the massive front door. “I’ve never seen a house like this before…only on TV and in magazines.” My mouth was open in awe.

“It’s alright,” he shrugged with a laugh.

“Alright?” I smacked his shoulder.

He grinned. “Okay, maybe it’s more than alright.”

“I’d say,” I whispered, peering to the right of the staircases where there was a living room. A gas fireplace was lit there, and I watched the flames for a moment, admiring the way they illuminated the room with an orange glow.

“Enough gawking,” Trace grabbed my hand, leading me to a different part of the house. I think he was purposely trying to get me lost so that if I decided to run, I wouldn’t be able to find my way out.

Suddenly, Trace stopped, and I would’ve fallen over my feet if he hadn’t had a firm hold on my hand.

“I really am sorry that I didn’t tell you,” he cupped my cheek with his free hand.

“It’s okay,” I sighed. “I understand why you didn’t.” I glanced around at the spacious hallway and expensive fixtures. “It’s a bit much.”

“Still, you were right. You’ve been honest with me, Olivia, and I didn’t return the favor,” he rubbed his thumb over my cheek. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Alright,” I breathed, my eyes fluttering closed as his thumb skirted over my lips.

He kissed me lightly, and I jerked back, eyes popping open. “Trace! Someone might see!”

“You’re so shy,” he chuckled, “it was just a little kiss.”

“Yeah, a kiss that your mom, grandma, grandpa, or brother could’ve walked in on,” I ticked each of them off on my fingers.

“You worry too much. Live a little,” he grinned and pushed open the double doors we had stopped in front of.

The doors opened into a formal dining room, that much was clear, but I couldn’t look around. Instead, my gaze was focused on the four people sitting at the table, looking right at me.

Trace cleared his throat. “Hi, mom.”

She smiled at her son and then smiled at me. “You must be Olivia. Trace can’t seem to stop talking about you.”

My cheeks colored at her words and my eyes darted to the ground.

“Mom,” Trace groaned.

“Don’t mom me,” she eyed her son. “It’s true and it makes me so happy that Trace has finally found someone he cares so much about,” she addressed me.

“Thank you,” I squeaked.

“Stop being rude boy,” a gruff man with thinning gray hair said from the end of the table, “introduce us to your girl.”

Trace coughed. “Olivia, that old geezer is my Gramps, Warren.”

“Just call me, Gramps,” Warren smiled. “No need to get all fancy.”

Trace pointed to the distinguished older lady beside his grandpa. She had curly, shoulder-length, graying blonde hair. Her eyes and smile were kind when she looked at me. She had a calming affect that instantly put me at ease. “And that lovely lady is my Grammy, Eleanor.”

Eleanor smiled and surprised me by scooting her chair back to hug me. Trace released my hand and I hugged his grandma back. “It’s so nice to meet you, sweetie,” she held me at arm’s length, “and call me Grammy or Ellie, it’s up to you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Ellie,” I smiled back.

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