Page 6 of Finding Olivia (Trace + Olivia 1)

Surprisingly, it wasn’t far, maybe only ten minutes from campus and in the older part of the city.

I parked the car and stepped outside, searching for dark hair, searing green eyes, and a cocky smile.

Avery slipped out of the car elegantly and looked around for her next conquest.

Licking her lips, she said, “I really hope that’s not Trace, over there, because I’m about to be all over that guy.” She swayed her hips dramatically.

“Avery!” I hissed.

“What? Look at him,” she pointed.

I did, and thankfully, it wasn’t Trace.

The guy was probably the same height as Trace but broader. The thick-corded muscles of his arms were on full display because he only wore a vest; one of those vests that guys usually wore with suits. His jeans were loose on his wide frame and riddled with stains, his hands shoved into the pockets. On his head he wore a fedora, the wavy ends of his shaggy golden brown hair sticking out from underneath. Sandy brown stubble dotted his prominent jaw and his eyes were a piercing light blue. In fact, I didn’t know eyes could be that light. And between his pouty lips, sitting there as if an afterthought, was a lit cigarette.

“Is it him?” Avery asked.

“Huh?” I shook my head, turning away from the guy and toward her.

“Is that Trace?” She pointed to the guy in the vest again.

“No,” I answered, “that’s not him.”

“Thank God for that,” she sighed in relief, making sure her clothes were in place, before sauntering towards him.

Vest man looked up and smirked, taking the cigarette from between his lips and dropping it to the ground, crushing it with the toe of his boot. He looked Avery up and down, much the way she had studied him, and I hoped that she had finally met her match.

Not caring to stay around for the PDA that was bound to ensue, I walked into the garage.

No one seemed to be around but I heard the clinging of tools.

Several cars were up on lifts, with various parts scattered about.

The windows in the back of the garage, were clouded over with age, making it even darker in the space.

“Hello?” I hesitantly called out.

“Hey,” a voice answered from behind me. The sound of wheels scooting met my ears, like whoever had spoken was on a scooter.

I turned around, expecting to face a person, but found no one.

“Down here,” the voice said again, with a chuckle.

I glanced down and found Trace staring up at me from this plastic bed looking thing with wheels.

A scream crawled up my throat and echoed around the empty garage. In my haste to scoot away, my feet tangled together in those darn heels, and I fell across the top of his chest.

He grunted from the impact and my cheeks colored every shade of red in existence.

“Well,” he chuckled, “this is interesting.”

My eyes widened and I hastily scrambled away, somehow pushing my hand into his

chest, causing him to grunt.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, falling back on my butt, only serving to embarrass myself further.

Trace laughed, shaking his head, and swung his legs over the side of the bed thing.

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