Beautifully Damaged(33)

"I like them both but I rarely eat them, too fattening." My cake-pop fetish doesn't count since they are so small they are almost nonexistent. Nevermind that I tend to eat several at one time.

He took a step back and, quite intentionally, looked me from head to toe and back again before a grin tugged at his mouth.

"You could stand to put on a few pounds."

"No way, I'm heavier than I look."

"Really?"

Faster than my brain could compute, he snatched me up over his head like a barbell and repeatedly pressed me as if I weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. He was causing quite a scene. Well, maybe it was my shrill screeching for him to put me down. He finally placed me gently back on my feet and actually got an applause from the people around us, which he accepted with a bow before turning back to me and laughing.

"Like I said, you could stand to put on a few pounds."

I strove for a stern face but the boyish look in his eyes was my undoing as I laughed right along with him.

I had to work throughout the following evening so by the time my shift was over, I was dead on my feet. I settled my checks with Trent and headed outside to hail a cab but as soon as I stepped into the cool night my feet stopped of their own volition to see Trace leaning against his bike.

"What are you doing here?"

"I figured you'd be hungry and tired so I came to feed you before getting you home and into bed."

He said it, his eyes darkened and I knew that he, too, was thinking of us, naked in bed. I had to fan myself from the mere thought of it as I said, "I like the sound of that."

"Behave." His voice was oddly hoarse when he issued that reprimand before he added, "...in bed alone."

"I didn't doubt it but a girl can dream."

I heard as he growled, low in his throat, which only made me grin before I asked, "I thought you had a fight tonight?"

"I did."

"Did you go?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I wanted to see you more."

I was speechless. He touched my cheek before he whispered, "Come on; let me feed you."

I smiled as my eyes sparkled with mischief. "...and take me to bed. Don't forget."

"I'm going to put you over my knee."

"Oh, I wish."

He was laughing as he straddled his motorcycle.

In the weeks that followed I started to see a change in Trace. He was happy. The coldness in his eyes was gone and that vacant look, which I'd seen too many times to count, was appearing less and less. He'd let me see a part of him that he kept hidden and I realized that I had been right, there really was so much more to Trace than met the eyes.

His demons still haunted him though and still influenced how he felt about himself. I wished he would talk to me and let me in but any attempt I made to talk to him about his past was very efficiently shutdown. Could people truly be happy if they were unwilling to put the ghosts of their past to rest? I suspected no.

Trace and I were out with Rafe at a local bar and as I watched them, I couldn't help but smile. There was a lightheartedness to Trace, something I knew that Rafe picked up on, too, if his looks in my direction were any indication. I was happy to see the change in Trace -- thrilled even -- but I had the sense that the other shoe was going to drop. I had the feeling that this more carefree Trace was just temporary and that eventually his past was going to catch up to him again. This time, when it did, I was at a real risk of having my heart broken because I had gone and done the unthinkable. I was falling in love with Trace and whenever he was to walk away, he'd be taking my heart with him.

On Sunday morning, I was awaken by a heavy object dropping onto my bed. When I peeled my eyes open I saw Trace grinning at me as he lay next to me with his head on his upturned hand. Like every other morning, I needed a minute because, damn, it was really nice waking up to that face.

"What time is it?"

"Seven."

"Ugh!" I pulled my covers up over my head and rolled onto my side. "Go away and come back when the big hand is on the twelve and the little hand is on the ten."

"What do you want to do today?"

"Sleep."

"Since I'm free today, we should do something. What do you normally do on Sunday?"

I lowered the covers and sat up since I'd come to learn that Trace was very chatty in the morning.

"I usually curl up on the sofa and read, sometimes I watch a movie, and sometimes I hog-tie overly jubilant morning-people and tickle them with a feather."

His smile was completely unrepentant and why I found that so endearing I couldn't say. "What do you do?"

He shrugged before he said, "Nothing."

"Nothing, like at all? You just, what, sit in the living room and stare at the ceiling?"