Page 32 of Chasing Olivia (Trace + Olivia 2)

And that’s how I found myself parked outside of the old Heinz factory that now served as a museum on the company and the city of Pittsburgh. There was a large lit up ketchup bottle that was filling up the Heinz sign with ‘ketchup.’

“Really, Trace? Really?” I placed my hands on my hips and stared him down. “Ketchup? That’s the first thing you want to do on this road trip?”

“It’s a museum dedicated to the founder of the best ketchup, of course this was the first thing I thought of. Don’t ever doubt my love of ketchup,” he grinned, sliding out of the car, and opening the trunk.

I followed, eyeing him with suspicion.

“What are you doing?” I asked as he rummaged through his suitcase.

He held a hand, halting me.

I sighed, taking a step back and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Found it!” He cried, pulling out a red piece of fabric and zipping his suitcase closed. Much to my dismay he began to remove his trusty plaid shirt and wife-beater in the middle of the parking lot. He dropped the garments in the trunk and closed it before putting the red shirt on.

I snorted when I saw that it was his I Love Ketchup shirt I’d bought him a few years ago.

“What?” He grinned, his eyes a light playful green. “I can’t come to the former Heinz ketchup factory without my ketchup shirt. It would be blasphemy.”

“Of course it would,” I laughed, letting him lead me into the building.

He paid the ten-dollar entrance fee and then dragged me around like an excited little kid. He oohed and ahhed, pointing out things here and there that he thought was fascinating.

“I like your shirt,” one guy said in passing.

“Thanks!” Trace called after him. “See?” He smirked at me, fighting a laugh. “People love my shirt.”

“Are you forgetting I bought it for you?”

“No,” he draped his arm over my shoulders, “I’m just pointing out its obvious awesomeness since you can’t seem to see it.”

We completed the tour and then he dragged me into the store area.

He raced straight towards the apparel section and grabbed a shirt. He turned and held it out t

o me. “Look, Olivia! We can be twinsies!”

“Oh God,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “There’s no way I’m wearing that,” I glared at the red shirt with the Heinz ketchup label on it.

“Please, for me?” He pouted.

Ten minutes later I found myself wearing the stupid shirt. Damn him and his persuasive ways. Those pouty lips and green eyes were always my undoing.

I tugged on the shirt as I followed him outside and towards the car.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I grumbled, staring down at the shirt.

He chuckled. “You look cute in it.”

“You’re a liar. I look ridiculous,” I shielded my eyes from the sun with my hand.

He stopped in his tracks in front of me. He stared down at me, cupping both of my cheeks in his large hands. “I would never lie to you, Olivia. You are cute, and beautiful, and smart, and amazing, and a thousand other things.”

“Now someone’s just trying to get laid.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he smirked, “the sex is great, but it’s not why I love you.”

“Good to know,” I smiled up at him.

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