Page 46 of Chasing Olivia (Trace + Olivia 2)

“You are impossible,” I growled over my shoulder, striding towards the exit. “You need a muzzle and a leash.”

“I didn’t know you were so kinky,” he chuckled behind me. When I turned around to glare at him his laugh turned into a fake cough. “You know,” he shoved his hands into his pockets, “I wasn’t quite done back there.”

“Then go back,” I shooed him away with my hand. “I’ll be here.”

He narrowed his eyes and before I knew what was happening he scooped me up and tossed me over his shoulder. “Trace!” I shrieked as my stomach dropped out from under me. “Put me down!” I beat at his back but he was completely unfazed. People were staring and heat infused my cheeks…or maybe my face only felt so hot since all the blood was currently rushing to my head.

He didn’t put me down until he was standing in front of the Liberty Bell again, and even then he held on tightly to me. Before I could run away, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of us.

He chuckled at the screen. “I’m sending this one to my mom.” He

was already typing madly on his phone.

“Let me see,” I stood on my tiptoes to peer at his phone. When I saw the picture I gasped. “Don’t you dare send that to your mom!”

“Too late,” he grinned boyishly, shoving the phone in his pocket.

“I’m glaring at you in the picture like I want to kick you…or worse.”

“Exactly, she’ll think it’s hilarious. Give her about five minutes and I’m sure she’ll call me and ask what I did to you,” he laughed.

“Yeah, right—” I was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing.

He pulled it out and smirked at the caller ID. “Told you,” he showed me the name lighting up the screen. “Hey mom,” he answered. “Why do you assume I did something? Oh, really? I only picked her up and carried her back to the bell so I could get a picture.” He was quiet for a moment and then said, “I am being a very good boy, mom,” he grinned at me. “Love you, too. Bye.” He hung up his phone and smiled. “That went better than I thought it would.”

“And how did you think it would go?” I asked, walking out of the gate once more. I found a bench and sat down.

“I figured she’d chew me out for at least thirty minutes. But I guess by now she knows I am who I am and there’s no changing me,” he took the spot on the bench beside me.

“If I’ve figured that out in the three years since I’ve met you, then I think your mom is bound to have figured it out in twenty-five,” I snickered, tapping my shoes against the ground in a random beat.

“Almost twenty-five,” he amended. “Don’t go making me older than I am, woman.”

“Whatever,” I laughed, “and it’s not like twenty-five is old.”

“Easy for you to say,” his nose wrinkled as he tried to pretend to be mad.

I rolled my eyes. “Trace, you’ll be forty and still acting like you’re fifteen.”

“True,” he laughed. “I don’t see the point in acting my age. I want to have fun,” he shrugged, “so I do.”

No longer irritated with him I took his hand in mine. I frowned down at his reddened knuckles. “Trace,” I breathed, “you hurt your hand.” I looked up at him with worry in my eyes as he snatched his hand from my grasp.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, looking at a spot over my head.

“It looks like it hurts,” I grabbed his hand again, inspecting it. “Why didn’t you tell me you hurt yourself?”

He forced a smile. “It’s not a big deal. I didn’t realize I punched the guy that hard,” he mumbled under his breath.

“You don’t need to act so macho all the time,” I scolded him, running my finger lightly over his injured knuckles. “I’m not going to love you any less.”

“Honestly,” he smiled, “I didn’t even notice it until you pointed it out. I was too concerned about you.”

I closed my eyes and swallowed thickly as he played with a piece of my hair. That was the kind of person Trace was, though. He was always concerned about everyone else, not about himself.

I opened my eyes and found him staring curiously at me. “What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he whispered, shaking his head. Standing, he reached for my hands and hauled me up. “Let’s get out of here.”

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