Read Online Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set by Micalea Smeltzer - Free Book Online

had waited this long for him to take action. Maybe she really did like him.
    I looked over my shoulder at her as she typed away on her laptop; her long hair fell around her like a curtain and her red lips were pursed.
    This was definitely an interesting development.
     

     
    “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I begged, peering out the windshield of Trace’s car.
    “No,” he snorted, “if I’m going to help you cross these things off, we do it on my terms, which means you’ll never know which one we’re doing.”
    I swallowed thickly, starting to regret that I told him about my list. I didn’t like the idea of not knowing what thing I would be doing. He could’ve picked anything. There were some I could easily eliminate though. Like riding in a hot air balloon…or skinny-dipping…or falling in love. But that still left too many possibilities for my liking.
    I rang my fingers together, nibbling on my bottom lip nervously.
    I knew I shouldn’t be nervous, it wasn’t like he was making me do anything that I didn’t want to do. I mean, I’m the one that made the stupid list!
    “You look really pale,” he commented.
    “I do?” I squeaked, looking over at him.
    “Don’t worry, I’m taking it easy on you. We’re doing one of the simpler things,” he explained, but I still didn’t feel any better. “It’s okay, Olivia,” he added, comfortingly.
    “I just don’t like not knowing which one I’m doing,” I whispered, picking at my chipped blue nail polish.
    “Hey,” he said softly, tugging on the beanie he was wearing, with one hand, “you made the list. You said that every single one is something that you want to do. It’ll be fine.”
    “You’re right,” I swallowed, “I’m freaking out over nothing.”
    Trace exited off of the Interstate and onto Route 7.
    His change of direction still didn’t give me a clue as to where we were headed.
    I was tempted to sit on my hands so I would stop fidgeting. I didn’t like feeling this antsy.
    Trace came to a stoplight, turning on his left blinker.
    I bit down on my lip so that I didn’t ask him where we were going again .
    “Hey,” he grabbed one of my hands, steadying the dance it had been doing across my leg. “This is an easy one, no strip poles, or skinny dipping is about to go down. Relax.”
    Sadly, I still wasn’t relaxed.
    “Olivia,” he glanced at me, out of the corner of his eye, and released my hand, “you trusted me with your list and you can trust me now.”
    He had a point.
    I nodded. “Okay. You’re right,” I conceded, but my nerves didn’t ease.
    The stoplight turned green and he drove a short ways, passing a strip mall, and Dodge dealership on the left.
    He turned suddenly onto an unmarked dirt road. I gripped the side of the car, holding on, and he chuckled at me.
    I glared across the car at the side of his face. “You could’ve warned me!”
    “And where’s the fun in that?” He peered at me through his aviator sunglasses, his cheeks and chin covered in stubble.
    I grumbled something unintelligible, only serving to entertain him further.
    We came to a stop in front of a large rectangular building. My eyes lit upon the words, skating rink, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
    Trace removed his sunglasses, beanie, and leather jacket.
    Underneath his jacket, he wore a light blue plaid shirt, buttoned about halfway up his chest, and a white wife-beater underneath. I was beginning to think all he owned were plaid shirts. I had yet to see him in anything else.
    “What?” He asked, looking down at his shirt. “Is there something on it? I swear, I got it out of the clean clothes pile,” he grumbled, picking at the bottom edge of the shirt, looking for a stain.
    “Nothing’s on it,” I promised, “I was just thinking about how you only wear plaid shirts.”
    He grinned, letting his shirt fall back in place. “I like plaid.”
    “I can tell,” I laughed.
    “I also,” he leaned close to me, which