Page 149 of Finding Olivia (Trace + Olivia 1)

“Hopefully, it’ll slow down soon,” I took a deep breath, still ashamed that I had forgotten my first Valentine’s with my boyfriend. “I don’t know if my brain can absorb any more information.”

Trace frowned and lightly squeezed my thigh. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I shrugged. “It’s school, it’s supposed to challenge you.”

“I don’t like seeing you so stressed,” Trace replied, looking left and right, as he backed out of the parking space.

“Everything will slow down soon,” I said, more for my benefit than his. “So,” I rubbed my palms on my jeans, “where are we headed?”

“Well,” Trace winced, eyes on the road, “I know you like simple, and aren’t into the whole, extravagant lifestyle, so…” He paused. “I opted to make you dinner at my place. I thought you’d enjoy that more than going out.”

I smiled, my first genuine smile in days. “You are amazing. That’s perfect.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Good, I was kind of worried you’d be offended.”

“Not at all,” my smile widened. “This is more special than getting dressed up and going to some uppity restaurant.”

He reached for my hand and entwined our fingers together. “How did I get so lucky with you?”

I snorted. “You didn’t.”

“I beg to differ,” he grinned.

???

“Mmm,” I moaned, as Trace opened the door to his apartment, and the smell of a home cooked meal hit my nose. Garlic and rosemary were the most prominent scents and I inhaled them greedily, my stomach rumbling. “It smells delicious, Trace.”

He closed and locked the door behind us. “I hope it tastes as good,” he led me into the small kitchen. “I made homemade garlic mashed potatoes, rolls, and asparagus. All I have left to do is grill the steak,” he pulled out marinating steaks from the refrigerator as he spoke.

Tears pricked my eyes. This was the sweetest, most romantic thing, ever. I was sure of it.

“This is great,” I murmured, at a loss for anything else to say.

“Are you sure?” He seemed hesitant. “We can still go out…if you want.” He nervously scratched the back of his head.

“No,” I shook my head. “This, you, it’s perfect.” I bit down on my lip to hold back the floodgate of emotions that was about to spill forth.

“Are you going to cry?” He raised a brow.

“No,” I squeaked.

“You totally are,” he wrapped his arms around me and cradled me against his chest. “I didn’t want to make you cry, baby.”

“I’m sorry, I’m being such a girl,” I inhaled his masculine scent. “They’re happy tears, I promise. This is the sweetest thing ever,” my words were muffled by my face buried in his shirt.

“Happy tears or sad tears, I didn’t mean for you to cry,” he combed his fingers through my hair.

I pulled away from his embrace and wiped the dampness off my cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I’m not normally so emotional but with all the stress I’ve had this is…this is wonderful,” I pointed to the various items he had cooked.

He kissed the top of my head, his fingers grazing my hip. “Why don’t you go sit down and relax while I grill these steaks?”

“Are you sure? I can help-”

He silenced me with a kiss. “No, Olivia. Relax. Let me take care of you,” he rubbed his fingers lightly up my side and I shivered. The tone of his voice held the promise of being taken care of in many ways.

“Okay,” I agreed.

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