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“Do you think they’ve come up for air yet?” I asked, picturing the way Luca and Avery had been going at it when we left.
Trace chuckled. “Probably not. If anything…”
“What?” I questioned.
“They’re probably dirtying up the hood of his car,” he snorted.
“Oh! Ew!” I covered my eyes, trying to block out the mental image he’d conjured up.
Having a preacher for a father, talking about sex had been taboo in our house, making me a little squeamish on the topic. Even though I had lost my virginity at a party last year, it hadn’t been that great, and honestly it had happened so quick that I couldn’t quite remember it.
Trace chuckled. “You should see some of the dents in the hood.”
“Trace!” I squealed.
“Don’t hide your face,” he grabbed my left hand and tugged it down. Reluctantly, I let my right hand fall as well. “Your face is far too beautiful to hide,” his fingers skimmed over my chin before he gripped the steering wheel once more.
My cheeks flamed at his words and a fire shot through my belly, heading south.
Trace parked against the curb, and I climbed out of the car, avoiding his gaze.
How could he make me feel so fluttery inside when I had just met him?
He dug some change out of his pocket and put it in the parking meter.
I followed him inside the building like an obedient dog. He ordered his sandwich, and then looked over his shoulder at me, motioning me forward to order.
I shook my head, the braid bobbing against my shoulder. “Nice try.”
He glared at me, his green eyes darkening. “Olivia,” he said warningly, “order something to eat.”
“So demanding,” I grumbled, stepping forward and ordering the first thing I saw off the menu.
He leaned against the counter, handing his debit card to the woman working there.
“My mama raised me right,” he told me, “and that means you never let a lady pay for her own meal.”
“I think you already mentioned that,” I took one of the glasses of water the lady had placed on the counter.
“And apparently,” he grinned, slipping his wallet into his back pocket, “it didn’t get through your thick skull,” he tapped my forehead.
If he kept touching me, even if it was only silly little touches like this, I was going to melt into a puddle of goo.
He grabbed his own glass of water and we picked an empty table while we waited for our sandwiches to be made.
“I’ve been wondering something…” I paused, searching for the right words to ask my question.
“Ask away,” Trace grinned, tipping his chair back on two legs.
“Why did you stop to help me last night?” I bit my lip.
His smile widened. “Gentleman, remember?” He tapped his chest. “I wasn’t going to leave you on the side of the road, for anyone to stop, when I could help you.”
“Well, thank you,” I took a sip of water, wetting my suddenly dry mouth.
“It’s not a problem,” he shrugged, gripping his glass of water. His fingers were long and elegant, his arms sinewy.
I didn’t know what to say after that, so I chose to keep my mouth shut, before something embarrassing came out.
