Olivia had said she’d come to the barbecue. He should have made her promise. Did he tell her the time? He couldn’t remember. He should have put his number in her cell so that she could call him. He should have told her how cute she looked today.
He probably shouldn’t have kissed her in the horse barn. But there was something about Olivia that reminded him of a fragile butterfly, and that comparison uncapped a riot of protective emotions. He knew these feelings well because they were also behind his defensiveness of Rowan when he’d thought Olivia had made those photos go viral on purpose.
Impulsive. Rafe, you need to think first and then react. How many times has Mom said that?
Well, he’d been nothing but impulsive with Olivia. Leaped before he looked. He couldn’t believe how much she’d filled his thoughts since they’d met at his father’s funeral. He’d been tied to the farm and training Rowan, but there wasn’t an hour that went by that he didn’t see her face in his mind’s eye.
No woman has ever captured me like that.
His worry was that his impulsiveness might have scared her. When he was with her, he sensed her trembling, as if she wanted to fly as far away from him as possible. Then she’d look at him with those soft brown eyes and he lost all reason.
He glanced out the window. Still no Olivia.
Yeah, he’d screwed up. He shouldn’t have grazed her neck with a kiss in front of everyone, either. That might have been too much, too soon. But she’d smelled so good, like spring hyacinths or lilies or roses. He couldn’t resist.
He groaned. Could he be any more wired? The excitement of the race and then the thrill of the win had caught him off guard. Rafe thought he’d been prepared for all possible outcomes, but he couldn’t have anticipated this feeling. In retrospect, Rafe realized that the only thing he’d prepared himself for was failure.
Deep down, he’d never actually believed that he would own a horse as talented as Rowan, much less race him. They’d never had a horse good enough to win. Winning had been his father’s dream, so Angelo had high standards. Even when Rowan showed promising results, Angelo had held back his praise. Rafe had recognized how special Rowan was from the day they’d brought him home. But he’d never let himself fully believe what a winner they had on their hands until now.
Horses had bonded Rafe to his father in a way that simply being a son, an heir to the farm, never could. Rafe had devoted his life to realizing his father’s dream, and today he’d finally done just that.
Rafe’s grief had transformed to joy. When he was standing in the winner’s circle with his brothers and mother and his fingers curled around that huge silver trophy, Rafe could have sworn on a stack of bibles that his father was standing beside him. In that instant he remembered hundreds of things his father had said. Memories of his father saddling up horses, racing over the fields, jumping across the creek, riding through damp autumn leaves and wintery, snow-covered hills filled his mind. Rafe felt his father’s presence so intensely he nearly burst with emotion.
He’d tried to hold it together, but he’d been watching Olivia’s expressions as she snapped the photographs with the family. At the instant he felt what he thought was his father’s hand on his shoulder, Rafe had shivered. His smile must have faltered because Olivia had immediately dropped the camera and caught his eye. He’d frozen, hoping the imaginary pressure on his shoulder would not lessen.
Olivia had quickly adjusted her lens, and he realized he was in the crosshairs of her next photos.
She knew. She saw. She was in the moment with him.
Since then, Rafe had felt as if he’d crossed into a new world. He was exhilarated, filled with a freedom he hadn’t known existed. He felt powerful and accomplished. He realized a lot of it was adrenaline. Chemicals. Endorphins. All of which had nothing to do with reality. But he was going to enjoy this while it lasted.
Today he’d thrown off the crushing shroud of his father’s death. He’d been carrying remorse over never having given his father this win. Even as a kid, he’d wanted to show his father he could ride faster, jump higher and excel in just about anything involving horses and racing. Childish as it was, he’d always wanted to be his father’s favorite, so he’d hitched his dreams to horses. With Rowan’s win, he’d achieved what Angelo had always wanted. Now it was up to Rafe to decide how far he wanted to take his dream.
Rafe rubbed his chin. That was a scary question to consider. He didn’t have an answer. His brief moment in the sun, hearing the applause, listening to the accolades from his family and friends and smiling for dozens of website and newspaper reporters had been thrilling. He could see how that kind of fame could become a narcotic. But was that what he wanted?
He honestly didn’t know.
What he did know without a doubt was that he liked looking up and seeing Olivia watching him. He liked her gentle voice and her deep brown eyes, but what intrigued him more than he wanted to admit was her ability to look right into him and see something that made her eyes sparkle and her lips part into a beguiling smile. He wondered if she realized she did that each time she saw him.
Suddenly, a memory came to him. It was last fall, in Austin’s kitchen after a tennis match. Olivia had been delivering food from the deli. He’d practically bumped into her, being distracted by the intense game and the fact that he’d been late to pick up his mother from an appointment. He’d excused himself, and he remembered that Olivia didn’t respond with a rude comment, as he expected and probably deserved. She was polite, and he’d glanced back at her. Her brown eyes had gleamed with an inner smile. She’d been very busy and went back to her work right away.
He hadn’t noticed much else about her at the time, and he’d completely forgotten the encounter until just now.
When she’d catered his father’s funeral, he’d noticed her genuine compassion and empathy. Most of the guests had offered clipped words laced with fear. Fear of their own deaths. They’d avoided direct eye contact for the most part. He understood that they likely just didn’t want to make the family cry more than they already had.
But not Olivia. She was different.
Until today, Rafe had tried to convince himself that what he’d felt when he was with Olivia was transference or displaced grief. Or some psychological coping skill.
Mourning his father would take a long time, but now he knew his grief had nothing to do with his reaction to Olivia. Though they’d gotten off on the wrong foot about Rowan’s photograph going viral, he believed that it was an accident—of sorts. Either way, it was in the past.
All Rafe wanted to think about was the future because suddenly, everything seemed brighter. Happier.
He stopped pacing and looked out the window again. He could see all the way down the long drive. His eyes grew wide as Olivia’s delivery van turned into the entrance.
“Happy. Is that what you are, Rafe?”
He wasn’t quite sure. He definitely wasn’t as sad as he had been, which made sense given the race win—and Olivia’s kiss. But genuine happiness? What was that, exactly? He’d had a happy childhood. His home was safe. They lived on a farm and never went hungry. He’d never had to endure any major family dramas. But he had always had the sense that there should be more to life than backbreaking work in the sun. He would live and die on this farm. He was thirty years old and he’d never met anyone he wanted to spend a long weekend with, much less a lifetime. His last long-term girlfriend had been in junior high school. For the most part, the women he met didn’t understand the responsibilities, heartbreaks and pressures of being a farmer. Gabe had experienced the same thing, until Liz. But then again, Liz was essentially a farmer.
He peered through the white wooden slatted blinds as Olivia parked. Rafe felt his smile spring from some forgotten labyrinth in his heart. Warmth coursed through his body, and he couldn’t get to the door fast enough. He flung it open, shot across th
e parking area and reached Olivia just as she was locking her vehicle door.
“Hi,” he said breathlessly. “You’re here.”
“I am,” she replied, looking into his eyes but not smiling back at him. “I had a lot of work to do—”
He grabbed her hands. “But you came, anyway. I’m really glad.”
“You are?” A lovely smile transformed her pretty mouth, and it was all he could do not to steal a kiss.
“Yes,” he said and then pointed toward the pool and terrace. “See? Everyone is here already.”
He tugged her hand to lead her toward the party.
She shook her head. “Maybe I should see if your mother needs any help in the kitchen. I could—”
“No,” he interrupted again. “Not tonight. No working tonight. I even told you not to bring your camera. Remember?”
“Yes, Rafe. I remember.” She searched his face. “What is it? You seem different tonight. You’re acting different.”
“You can see that?”
Her smile drifted away and she squeezed his hand. “Is it because of the win?”
How could he answer her when he himself was clueless about everything going on in his life right now? Standing here, holding her hand, nearly made the entire world feel right. But what did that mean?
“Not all of it,” he finally said, wondering why he was holding his breath.
“That would be enough for most people.” She chuckled good-naturedly.
It’s because of you.
How idiotic would he sound if he said that to her? They hadn’t known each other a full month. Yet her kiss had been like no other. Sweet. Lingering. Mind-blowing in its heart-felt desire. Rafe found himself thinking far too often about how long he’d have to wait for another kiss. She was like the beautiful princess holding the key to his desires. Suddenly, he wanted to be the guy who made her dreams come true. But it was too soon for that, wasn’t it?
“I guess I’m guilty of thinking big,” he said.
“Lofty goals. I can tell. Rowan in the Kentucky Derby would be just about the biggest race I could think of.”
“Actually, there’s the World Cup in Dubai.”
“Arab Emirates. I’ve heard of that race.”
“Really? I’m surprised.”
“Why? Because I’m just a waitress? A caterer?” Her reply came with an attitude and a boulder-size chip on her shoulder. Something wasn’t right; he saw it in her guarded expression. The surprising sting of her words put him on the defensive.
“Did I say that?” he asked in a demanding tone, his own anger rising much too quickly.
“Sorry,” she replied softly. “I don’t know why I said that.”
“I do.”
“Really? Why do you think?”
“Because at Austin’s house last fall I ignored you. Or at least you thought I did.”
“I’m always invisible to people around here,” she said, lowering her head.
He slipped his finger under her chin and lifted it until her eyes met his. “That’s not true. Most of the people here tonight are your girlfriends. My brothers. You know them all very well. You just don’t know me, that’s all. And I’d like to change that.”
She swallowed hard. “You would?”
“Yes, Olivia. I would like that very much.” He leaned down to kiss her. Just as his lips brushed hers, she pulled back.
“Rafe, I came here tonight because I need to talk to you.”
“I thought that’s what we were doing.” Her eyes had lost the soft brown lights that seemed to sparkle just for him. Instead, he saw determination and something else in her gaze. Distance? “What is it?”
She twisted her hands together, and tears welled in her eyes.
“Olivia?”
“Rafe, I don’t know how to tell you this or even if I should tell you this, but...”
“Please, go ahead.”
She inhaled deeply. “Rafe, Rowan didn’t win the race. He lost.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SINCE THE SECOND Rowan crossed the finish line, Olivia had gone back and forth between what her eyes told her and what her camera had captured so many times that her head was pounding. She hadn’t had time to inspect every single photograph but she’d uploaded the most important ones to her computer and reviewed the slow-motion footage before coming to the barbecue. And she’d seen the proof.
To make the situation even graver, in two days she would have to present copies of all her photographs of the race to the officials. They had hired her. The photographs would be examined by both amateur and eventually professional race judges. They could even be published, Howard had told her. Mr. Blue’s owners had the right to demand a retraction if they found evidence that supported his win. At that time, it would officially go on the books that Rowan had lost.
Olivia couldn’t imagine how devastated Rafe would be. The last thing she wanted was for him to find out from an investigative board or a published article that his victory was being rescinded.
She raised her eyes to his crestfallen face.
“What are you talking about?” he demanded.
Olivia’s mouth had gone dry, but the tears that had welled in her eyes burned like acid. “I saw it from the judge’s tower.” The rest of her explanation died on her lips. She swallowed hard and tried to wet her lips. Looking into Rafe’s confused eyes, she saw a new pain there: betrayal.
Olivia knew now she’d made the wrong decision. She shouldn’t have come here, and she should have never brought the truth to Rafe’s attention.
She strove daily to prove she was not her father’s child. She would never keep the truth from anyone she loved. Though she didn’t believe she was in love with Rafe, she cared about him. Maybe it was infatuation. Maybe it was friendship. But if she wanted any kind of a relationship with Rafe in the future—which she did, with all her heart—then they had to start with honesty. At least, that was what she’d convinced herself until the words Rowan didn’t win the race crossed her lips.
In the end, I’m just like my father. Destroying lives. Killing dreams.
“It doesn’t matter what you think you saw. The judge declared him a winner. Besides, I thought you were supplying the camera that took the pictures to prove it.”
“I...I did. Two of them. My digital camera showed he won. That’s the one that Howard checked.”
“Then it’s settled. It was the official call.”
She nailed him with a penetrating gaze. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I brought two cameras. The second one was a slow-motion digital that I could amp up to nearly ten thousand frames per second. He never saw those shots because— Well, he just didn’t. After I left the fairgrounds, I went over it all at home. It’s only by half a nose, but Mr. Blue was the winner.”
Rafe stared at her. She could tell he was processing the information. He was as still as stone. She wished he’d say something, but instead, the sparkle she usually saw in his eyes dulled, reminding her of misty, gray, late-winter mornings when the earth wasn’t quite awake with spring, yet wasn’t deep in winter slumber, either.
“What are you going to do with it?” he asked.
“Do?”
“Are you going to show your pictures to the judge?”
He’d caught her off guard. She hadn’t figured that out yet. “I don’t know. I wanted to tell you—”
“Oh, so am I supposed to go rat out my own horse to the officials, then? You want me to do the dirty work?” His voice rose with each word. His back stiffened. He looked a foot taller. He lifted his chin imperiously.
“I have to give them to the judges,” Olivia said. “They expect them in a few days. I wanted you to know first.” She felt her own power rising slowly within her. “You do what you think is right.”
<
br /> “Right?” he bellowed. “You think it’s right that I take this win away from my father’s horse? You think it’s right to tell my mother that her husband’s horse failed? Did you see her face today? Did you see my brothers? All they talked about was how happy they knew our dad would be watching Rowan win. You think it’s right to ruin that memory, Olivia?”
She didn’t realize she’d balled her fists until she flexed her nearly numb fingers. How could she answer him? No, she didn’t think it was right to rob the Barzonnis of Angelo’s legacy. She didn’t think it was right to impugn Rowan’s reputation. But she didn’t think it was right to keep the information to herself, either...not that she really had a choice. She supposed she could keep the slow-motion footage and give the judges the half-truth. Only she and Rafe would ever know that Rowan hadn’t won.
On the other hand, if she handed in everything and the judges saw how accurate her work had been, that it could affect the outcome of the race, she would be applauded. It would be a huge step toward the photojournalism career she’d always wanted. But her dream would come at a price. A big one.
“No, it’s not right,” she said finally. When all was said and done, she couldn’t hurt Rafe like that.
He peered at her. “You must think I’m stupid.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re ambitious, Olivia, and that’s a good thing, but somehow me and my horse have gotten caught in your net. You’re using Rowan for your own gain. It’s selfish, really. If those pictures show Mr. Blue won, you’ll be famous.”
“Famous? That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? The whole world loves racing. It’s thrilling. It’s sport and competition. And the animals are gorgeous. A hometown story like this hits the internet, and believe me, reporters will be at your door—and mine.” He folded his arms across his chest.
She had to admit that the idea of her photos garnering attention, making a difference, was enticing. She’d just been considering that option herself. She couldn’t think of a response.
Fear of Falling Page 12
