Finding Olivia (Trace + Olivia #1) (34 page)

I covered my ears once more.

She pushed my shoulders and I fell over into the sand.

“For someone that’s having regular sex
, with their smokin’ hot boyfriend, you can be such a prude,” she grumbled.

“I’m not a prude!” I defended.
Okay, maybe I was, but who wanted to hear about their best friend’s, boyfriend’s, penis piercing? It was far too much for anyone to handle.
“There’s a fine line between talking about girl stuff…or even the rough sex you’re enjoying,” I pointed a finger at her, “and telling me all about his man parts.”

“Oh, Olivia,” Avery sighed, laying back on her propped elbows, “you are such a preacher’s daughter.”

I shook my head. I could never get anywhere with Avery. She was never able to see when she crossed a line.

I decided to try a different tactic.

“How would you feel, if Luca was over there, telling Trace all about your vagina?” I reasoned.

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t care.”

The girl had no shame.

“I don’t understand you,” I laughed.

She pushed her sunglasses into her hair and looked over at me with a wink. “The joys of being one of a kind.”

c h a p t e r

Twenty Seven

A kiss was pressed against my nose and I stirred in my sleep. I slowly opened my eyes and found Trace hovering above me, a grin plastered on his handsome face. How was he always so peppy in the mornings? It took me forever to wake up.

“What?” I yawned
, slapping a hand over my mouth, to cover my morning breath.

“Get dressed, we have places to go, and people to see,”
he tossed my clothes at me. “And hurry.”

“Ugh,” I groaned, rolling out of bed,
and dressing. I pulled my hair back in a sloppy ponytail and grabbed one of Trace’s baseball caps to hide how bad my hair looked.

I laced up my C
onverse and wiped my sleepy eyes as I stepped into the kitchen area. Trace had cooked eggs and bacon for breakfast. I shoveled some onto a plate and ate it mechanically.

“Where are we going?” I asked, stifling another yawn, “and what time is it, anyway?”

“It’s seven,” he answered, striding into the kitchen. He was dressed in typical Trace fashion. If he didn’t make those plaid shirts look so darn good, I would be so sick of them by now. “And we’re going to see Gramps and Trent. I need their help with something.”

“Oh. Why do I need to come?” I finished my breakfast and rinsed the plate.

“It involves you,” he grinned, grabbing two bottles of water from the refrigerator.

He tossed one at me, and even in my sleepy state, I managed to catch it.

“Of course,” I rolled my eyes.

He grabbed his car keys and started for the door. I followed slowly behind him, blinking my eyes rapidly as I tried to wake up.

I had been having so many late nights studying that I had been looking forward to sleeping in on this Saturday morning. Leave it to Trace to ruin my plans. I was excited to see Warren and Trent though. I had grown fond of both of them.

★★★

The trees opened up and the mansion came into view. I gazed at it in awe. I was sure I would never get used to the sight of it. The lawn was massive and had been recently mowed. Purple, white, and blue flowers dotted the landscape.

Trace parked
, and instead of going inside, we headed around back, past the outdoor swimming pool, and tennis court.

I saw Trent and Warren in the distance but couldn’t see what they were doing.

When we got close enough, my eyes zeroed in on the targets set up. My eyes widened.

“Think you can handle a gun?” Trace smirked.

“I can handle you,” I countered, “so I can definitely handle a gun.”

His laugh rumbled through his body. “That’s funny.”

“Hey,” Trent smiled. He was dressed casually in a pair of shorts and t-shirt. The tattoo that covered his upper arm looked like some sort of waterscape. His dark hair was tousled in the front, making him look even more like his brother. “Ready to learn to shoot?” He asked me, pointing at one of the targets. “Trace said you wanted to know how to shoot a gun.”

“Uh, yeah,” I muttered.

“You don’t need to look so scared,” Trent chuckled and bumped my shoulder with his. “Us Wentworth boys have excellent aim. Right, Gramps?”

Warren shook his head
, hobbling towards us. “You have nothing to be afraid of, Olivia,” he assured me.

“This will be fun,” Trace
smirked cockily, and strode over to a golf cart I was sure Warren and Trent had used to get here from the house. Poor Warren obviously had trouble getting around.

Trace opened a
lock box that was on the back of the golf cart. I walked over and peered over his shoulder at the weapon that could kill someone with a simple pull of a trigger.

Trace clucked his tongue, looking at the different guns in the
box. “Let’s try a revolver and a semi-automatic pistol for you. Those should be easier for you to handle since you’re a beginner, but they still have some firepower to them,” he murmured, tapping a finger against his lips.

“You’re taking forever,” Trent groaned from behind us. “Just pick one and show her how to shoot.”

“Why do you have to be so impatient?” Trace snapped at his brother.

“Why do you have to be so annoying?” Trent raised a brow.

Trace shook his head and grabbed two guns. I followed him over to one of the targets Trent and Warren set up.

“This is a revolver,” he held the gun in his right hand aloft.
I was of medium size with a silver cylinder that held chambers for the bullets. “And this one,” he held the other where I could see it, “is a semi-automatic.” This one was sleeker looking. “Which one do you want to try?”

I pointed to the semi-automatic.

He grinned. “Why am I not surprised?”

He returned the other gun and jogged back to my side. Warren and Trent were already shooting at their targets while Trace explained what I needed to do.

“Semi-automatics are slimmer and lighter than a revolver,” his eyes were serious as he spoke. “They can fire more bullets, quicker, and the trigger is easier.”

He loaded the magazine with bullets
, and directed me with how to stand and hold it, before he finally handed it to me.

I held it in my hands, surprised that I wasn’t shaking.

“Take a deep breath,” Trace coached. “Look at the target, and when you think you’re ready, aim and fire.”

I swallowed, eyeing the paper target.

I pulled the trigger and resisted the urge to close my eyes. The bullet missed by a few feet, not even connecting with the paper, but I had done it. I had actually shot a gun.

“That was close,” Trace chuckled.

“You’re such a liar. That was nowhere close,” I shook my head at him.

“I was trying to make you feel better,” he defended.

“I want to try again,” I told him.

He helped me back into position, but he kept distracting me with a brush of his fingers over my shoulders…down my back…playing with my ponytail.

“Trace,” I warned, “you’re distracting me.”

“Sorry,” his chuckle vibrated my body with his close proximity.

“You don’t sound sorry,” I rolled my eyes, “you sound mighty pleased with yourself.”

“Maybe,” his fingers skimmed up my bare neck and his lips grazed my ear, “I like distracting you.”

“You’re very good at it,” my eyes fluttered closed and my teeth sank into my lip.

“I’m good at lots of things,” his voice was husky.

“Boy!” Warren yelled. “Stop bothering that poor girl!”

“Sorry, Gramps!” Trace laughed and stepped away from me. “It was too fun to resist,”
he added to me with a lick of his lips.

God, that man could talk me into doing anything
, with a few simple words, and a lick of his pouty lips.

I eyed the target again and let loose another bullet.

I whooped in joy when it connected with the paper. It may have been in the bottom right corner, but I had
hit
it.

“Try again,” Trace smiled, “aim a bit higher and to the left, though.”

I did as he said, and hit the target again, closer to the center this time.

“This is fun!” I exclaimed.

Warren, Trent, and Trace all chuckled at my enthusiasm.

“You’re a
Wentworth now,” Warren cackled and shot his target, hitting it in the center. “One of you boys, do me a favor, and change my target.”

I saw that his paper target was completely hollowed out in the middle from his accurate shots. Trent’s looked similar but with
a few that had missed the mark slightly.

Trent put his gun down and changed the targets.

“You’re doing really good,” Trent assessed my progress.

“Thanks,” I smiled at him.

Trace continued to work with me until I finally hit the center of the target. He changed my target and set up his own. We shot side by side. He had to stop and help me a few more times, but for the most part, I had gotten the hang of it nicely. I was definitely better at shooting a gun than painting a picture.

I
found myself getting distracted by watching Trace shoot his own gun. He was obviously at ease with the firearm and it was a huge turn on seeing him look so masculine.

He twitched under my scrutiny and missed the target.

Trent and Warren burst into laughter.

“That was your fault,” Trace mock-glared at me.

“Mine?” I batted my eyelashes. “What did I do?”

“If you keep looking at me like that
,” he eyed me, “then we’re going to have a problem.”

“I didn’t know I was looking at you in any particular way?” I played dumb.

He stepped forward and gripped my elbow in one of his warm hands. He whispered in my ear, “You know exactly how you’re looking at me, Olivia. If you keep it up, I’m marching you straight to my bedroom, and spanking you.” His intense green gaze had me shivering, despite the warm temperature.

I looked over my shoulder at Trent,
who was watching us with a smirk, and Warren was staring at us with a raised brow.

I blushed, clearing my throat, and took a step away from Trace.

“That won’t be necessary,” I mumbled, turning back to my target.

Trace chuckled. “Too bad.”

Around noontime, we headed inside for lunch.

Cecilia had made sandwiches and we ate them in the dining room.

“You did extremely well today,” Warren smiled at me, wiping crumbs from his mouth with a flick of his napkin.

“Thanks,” my head bowed at his praise.

“Yeah,” Trent grinned, “you were good…for a beginner.”

Trace glared at his brother. “She was better than a beginner.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re getting some action,” Trent eyed Trace.

Trace stiffened beside me. “Little brother, you never did know when you were crossing the line.”

“Little brother? Did you seriously just say that? You couldn’t think of anything more insulting?” Trent tilted his head.

I reached for Trace’s hand under the table to calm him.

“Boys,” Warren banged a fist against the table, “that’s enough. Trenton, apologize to Olivia for that crass remark.”

“
Gramps
,” Trent groaned.

“Do it,” Warren narrowed his eyes at the youngest Wentworth brother.

Trent looked me in the eye with a small, embarrassed, smile. “Sorry, Olivia. I didn’t mean it to insult you. I was only messing with Trace.”

“I know,” I took a sip of water. Trent’s comment hadn’t upset me. In fact, the whole conversation had fascinated me, since I didn’t have siblings to bicker with.

“Happy?” Trent turned to Warren.

“For now,” Warren chuckled, lifting a glass of water to his lips.

I finished my sandwich, and asked Trace, “Where’s your mom and grandma?”

“Spa day,” he shrugged. “They always go once a month.”

“Oh,” I nodded.

Trace at
e a second sandwich and we excused ourselves from the table.

We were strolling along the main hallway when Trace suggested we go swimming.

“But I don’t have my swimsuit!” I whined.

“Then get naked,” he wink
ed, leading me out the backdoor. We stepped onto the patio and into the pool area. The water was a crisp blue.

Trace stripped down to his boxers and dove into the water.

“Why is everything so much easier for guys?” I grumbled to myself.

He surface
d in the middle of the pool, shaking his dark hair, sending water flying.

“Get in,” he grinned, splashing the water.

I shook my head. “I don’t have anything dry to change into.”

“You can wear
some of my old clothes,” he reasoned.

I shook my head at him and stretched across the diving board on my stomach. It swayed under my weight but quickly steadied. Trace swam over
, underneath the board, and gazed up at me. I removed the baseball cap I was wearing and tossed it onto the patio. I pulled the ponytail holder out of my hair, and it fell forward, the ends skimming the water. I had already taken my shoes off in the house.

Trace grabbed a
hold of the diving board and I squealed as it dipped down.

“Get in,” he pleaded.

“No,” I smiled.

Still holding onto the diving board, he leaned forward, and kissed me. His lips tasted like chlorine.

“How about now?” He asked.

“I might need a little more convincing,” I giggled.

He kissed me again and his lips lingered against mine.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me,” I smiled.

He smirked, letting go of the diving board. It shook me roughly up and down and I found myself toppling over the side, plunging into the water.