by C J Marie
“Same here, Olive,” plump Ms. Carver said with a whoop.
“It’s all in the details, ladies. That’s how I knew I had a winner. My sweetheart knows I love the beach. I had to look closely but there on the floor, mingled in the rose petals, were handmade seashell garland. Yes, all strung on a fishing line. Rafe took all that time gathering and stringing beautiful shells.”
“My, what a gesture,” Old Tabitha gasped, clutching her chest.
“By this point, I knew a group of seven-year-olds couldn’t accomplish something so wonderful.” Olive ignored the way Rafe grunted and scrubbed his face at her side. “One little boy could hardly contain himself and pointed to our back closet. My heart was throbbing, like it was going to pop right out of my skin. I walked closer, my hand trembling. I opened the door…”
“And then I asked her and that’s about it,” Rafe insisted quickly, chugging back an entire glass of champagne.
“Oh, my,” Tabitha sighed. “You’ve got a keeper, Miss Olive.”
“I won’t let her forget, Ma’am,” Rafe added, squeezing Olive’s shoulders tightly. She wanted to pinch his side, but the thought was overshadowed by a call from Dot. Olive was going to murder her friend.
“Give us a kiss, you two! Come on, now. You can’t tell us that story and leave us without a kiss.”
“Oh, yes, kiss her, son,” Tabitha pleaded.
Olive’s smile faded. She’d enjoyed embellishing a fake proposal, but none of this ruse included kissing Rafe Whitfield. No, such a thing would stir up too many old feelings she’d long buried. Meeting Rafe’s eye as more people demanded a bit of affection, it was clear she wasn’t the only one with the same concern.
***
“Kiss your woman, now, man,” Mr. Till shouted. His words were slurred, and Rafe suspected he’d had a few glasses too many.
Olive shifted at his side. Rafe studied her expression—did he want to take this to that place? Pressure was building in the room as more taunts to press his mouth to Olive Cutler’s threatened to burst the walls. To make it more tempting, she had to be wearing that perfume that smelled like the magnolias outside.
Rafe held his breath. His pulse was a runaway train in his ears. Olive’s cheeks were rosy, and her honey eyes met his with apprehension. It was a kiss with a friend. Nothing more. They were to play their part. Mr. and Mrs. Cutler were watching—but neither stepped in to change the minds of their guests. Beau was practically set to murder Rafe where he stood—that made the idea a little more appealing. Riling Beau Cutler was one of those little joys in life.
Swallowing the solid lump in his throat, Rafe faced Olive who seemed frozen, or in shock, he couldn’t be sure. Lifting his palm to the side of her face, he paused to meet her eye. She didn’t pull back in the least, and if Rafe didn’t know any better, he thought she might have leaned into his touch. But that was insane—this was Ollie, his oldest friend. With every eye trained on them, Rafe bent his head, chasing the gap between their lips until Olive’s soft skin was locked with his.
Together they stood frigid at first, until their mouths moved. Rafe couldn’t stop himself as he reached his arm around Olive’s waist and tugged her tighter against his chest. He parted his lips when her hands rested on his biceps. Olive’s lips spread enough he could sneak a taste of her if he wanted, but that wasn’t what friends would do. That wasn’t how a pretend relationship would go. His mind was spinning, and the crowd disappeared for a few heartbeats. Reluctantly, Rafe pulled back before he forgot himself and plundered Olive’s mouth with his own. Her eyes darted back and forth between his. The rosy tint to her cheeks was warmer than before, and Rafe was certain she drew in a breath before she glanced at the ground.
Rafe’s hands slid off her sultry curves, and he cleared his throat again. Facing the crowd, it must have been satisfactory because those calling for their kiss were clapping. Rafe smirked as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.
Ordinary?
The way his skin was a blazing inferno with the remnants of Olive’s kiss, the way his chest was so tight he couldn’t breathe in deep, none of that was anywhere in the realm of ordinary. This was trouble. Rafe stayed pleasant through the rest of the evening, but when Olive caught his gaze over her shoulder as several ladies dragged her into the crowd, Rafe knew he was in terrible, awful trouble.
10 years earlier
“Mama, who’s that in the back parlor with Millie?”
“No one you need to be concerning yourself with. Now, have you finished your piano lesson?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Olive squeaked. She’d been taking lessons since she was five, now at nearly twelve she was proficient and enjoyed playing.
“Well, then go on. Dinner is at six tonight, I expect your hands to be clean, Olive Jane. No more digging in the creek.”
Olive nodded, but couldn’t promise anything. After Rafe and Auggie pointed out the beautiful snail shells in the sludge of the small creek, she’d made it her life’s pursuit to collect as many shells as possible. Darting across the back lawn, she spun around the great oak tree a few times, pretending that the silver Porsche in the driveway wasn’t unsettling. The man in the suit had been inside her house for a few hours now. Seemed strange since Daddy was in Charlotte this week. What would such a man want with Millie?
“Oh, hey there bug-brain,” Olive giggled nearly running into Rafe’s back. He was curled on the bank of the creek, his bare feet dragging in the water. He glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t say anything before turning back around. “Where’s Auggie?”
“Went for a bike ride,” Rafe mumbled. His voice was still changing. Sometimes it was high, sometimes it was deep. Olive enjoyed teasing him, but today didn’t seem like it would be well received.
“You didn’t go?”
“Does it look like I went?”
Olive furrowed her brow. “Don’t throw a fit. I was just asking.”
“Sorry, Ol.”
Olive nudged his shoulder and without taking off her sandals, she slipped her feet into the icy water. Mama would be angry when the treads of her shoes were caked in mud. “You okay? What’s with the sulking face?”
“Nothing,” Rafe insisted, his fingers drumming the grass. That was a lie.
“Come on, I can tell something’s wrong.”
“Don’t worry about it, Ol.”
“Is it something to do with that guy talking to your mom?”
Rafe stiffened, his soft blue eyes locking on Olive. “Can we talk about something else? It’s hard to explain, okay.”
Olive wanted to demand answers, but in all the years she’d been friends with Rafe Whitfield she’d never seen his face shadowed and hollow like now. With a stiff nod, she stood in the creek. Tugging up her stretchy leggings she beamed. “Want to dig for shells?”
Rafe chuckled. “You and your shells. Sure, princess, let’s see what we can find.”
For two hours, Olive dug in the mud with Rafe. Eventually, they got into a water fight. Being late to dinner was an unpardonable sin in her house. Being late and soaked with dirt and sludge, well, Olive went to bed without eating, and a sore bum. Yet, as she trudged to her bedroom, she spotted Millie changing sheets in the guest bedroom. Olive waved. Millie smiled pleasantly, but Olive would never forget how her eyes were red and puffy.
Someone made her cry. No one made Millie cry, not on Olive’s watch.
Chapter 4
“Have you flipped your ever-loving mind, Rafe?”
“What was I supposed to do, Zac?” Rafe asked, sliding out from under the old Honda. The owner was putting more money into the car than it was worth, but as long as Rafe got paid he didn’t care.
“Say no, idiot,” Zac Dawson said, kicking at Rafe’s leg. “Look, I think Olive is as nice as anyone, but you can’t honestly tell me she was interested in buying you to escort her around these parties.”
Rafe sighed, wiped his hands, and took a long drink of water. “She wasn’t too happy at first, but she agreed because of my mom.
”
Zac rubbed his scruffy chin. Rafe had worked in the shop for four years now, but Zac had only taken it over from his uncle in the last eighteen months. Friends since high school, Rafe knew he could confide in Zac without him blabbing to the entire coast. Zac was rough around the edges, but that was why they got along so well. Rafe had grown up surrounded by the genteel society of Honeyville, and there were his own roots to consider. Zac was made from blue-collar, tell-it-straight, southern blood. Rafe liked that about his friend.
After a pause, Zac shrugged. “That’s decent of her, but what about you? Didn’t you have some stupid, pansy crush on her back in the day?”
“No.”
Zac smirked. “Uh, I have a pretty good memory.”
“We were just kids, not a big deal.”
“Yeah, but pretending that you’re marrying the girl—don’t you think that could get tricky?”
“Tricky how? Look at me,” Rafe grumbled, his hands signaling to his greasy jumpsuit. “I’m not exactly the type Olive Cutler will settle down with.”
Zac rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t talking marriage, I’m just talking you guys getting carried away or something—you know, you are on a bit of dry spell since Dalia left. I bet you’re tempted.”
“Shut it, Zachariah.”
“You’re going to get fired if you call me that again?”
“It’s the name your mama gave you.”
“Don’t remind me,” Zac mumbled. “Maybe you should get to it with Olive, you’re ornery. Might do you some good. What’s the next big event? I think I might pay to see you all proper with the cream of society,” Zac said in a pompous tone.
“Shut up. It’s some dinner party next week,” Rafe grumbled.
“You going to take her in the broom closet when no one’s watching?”
“We’re friends and you know it. That’s all we’ve ever been. I’m not going to get carried away, in fact, we already kissed and nothing else even came to mind.” Not true—at all.
Zac’s green eyes widened. “Do go on. Why were you putting your dirty mouth on Olive Cutler?”
Zac had no room to talk about moving through women. He only needed to take a shower, trim his beard, and Zac could catch a date. At least he had a bit of gentleman inside and didn’t always take everyone home. Zac wasn’t one to settle into a relationship. According to him, he was easily bored and wanted a challenge. Rafe called it an excuse not to be exclusive.
“We’re supposed to be engaged, right? Kissing comes with the territory.”
“Oh, man, you’re in deep. Listen to yourself, you’re going to screw this up.”
“Thanks for the faith, moron.”
“What does August say?”
“I haven’t told him.”
“Why not?”
“He’s busy. Took a second job since his hours were cut. I don’t need to bother him with this.”
Zac harrumphed and sat on the hood of an old pickup. “Sucks, you know. Lily having the baby then August losing his hours. Probably stressful. I said he’d have a job here.”
Rafe nodded. “Yeah, but Lily is in school. They’re doing fine, it will pick up for him, but now you see how the extra money would take some pressure off August too. He’s feeling guilty not helping with our mom.”
“I get it, man,” Zac said. “You’ve just always been… I don’t know… different with Olive. She’s not in our world, Rafe. Don’t get carried away, that’s all I’m saying. I think you should tell August, at least let him know you’ve got a way to bring in some money. Might ease his stress a bit.”
Rafe nodded, sitting back onto the creeper and sliding underneath the car again. “I’ll tell him.”
A phone from the back office rang, and Zac tapped the top of the car before rushing to answer the call. He wasn’t wrong. Rafe had always been different with Olive. He’d gone to public school, and she’d gone to the private academy near the beach. She lived in a world of astronomical expectations, he lived paycheck to paycheck. Yet, there had always been something different with Olive Cutler. She had this feisty spirit inside that he’d seen crushed time and time again by those surrounding her. Even at the engagement announcement, he’d stood by as Gregory Till had brushed off Olive’s teaching aspirations. He should have stood up for her more.
In all honesty, Rafe thought she’d break long ago—if Olive had gone through with marrying Tom, he would have eventually dulled the flame in her eyes, Rafe knew that for certain. But Olive pressed on despite the pull to conform. He wished he could set her free from the crushing expectations altogether. Seeing Olive completely free released a forgotten need deep in his chest.
Olive had always been a forbidden fruit. Zac was right—Rafe had carried feelings for her a long time ago. Once only a childhood friend, it seemed overnight, Olive became a woman and Rafe wanted her in a new way. He’d been a late bloomer, but he couldn’t say the same for Olive. She’d blossomed into something besides the high-pitched, tag-along sooner than he would have liked. Rafe could remember catching her one day at the creek—oh, mercy—she’d shrieked at him for turning into a bear and chasing off handsy Fin Masters.
Rafe thought he was over his stupid fantasy, until she’d gotten engaged. That night, he’d gotten sloppy drunk and almost went back to his ex, Dalia. Good thing he called August instead. His twin brother wasn’t a fool, and August knew Olive Cutler had always been a soft spot for Rafe since they were kids. It was probably the real reason Rafe hadn’t told his brother about the new arrangement. August would be sure to tell him what a ridiculous idea it was, and he was playing with fire.
Rafe tweaked the wrench harder than necessary as frustration boiled in his blood. He could brush off the kiss with Olive as much as he wanted. It didn’t change the fact he hadn’t stopped thinking about it since then. This was wrong—he shouldn’t be even considering such things about her. There was history between them, tension at times—the sort of tension that brought indecent thoughts. If his mother ever found out what he’d once thought of her employer’s daughter, well, stroke or no stroke, Rafe wouldn’t be sitting for a week.
***
Olive inspected her reflection in the full-length mirror. The polka-dot blouse brushed off one shoulder, she liked the way it flattered the shape of her neck, but it showed a bit of her middle. Not her most confident section of her body. She enjoyed barbecue ribs, so sue her. Even still—the top had a way of making her feel sexy. She wanted to feel sexy. Possibly ever since the engagement party. And it had nothing to do with revenge body for Thomas Abernathy to mourn—think more because a certain man had kissed her and her ovaries nearly combusted. She wouldn’t mind a little swoon-appeal in case such things happened again with her fake fiancé. Not that Olive expected it, but you know, one can never be too prepared.
Flipping back the curtain she beamed at Dot who was still wearing her cat-eye sunglasses indoors. “Well, what do you think?”
Dot glanced up from her cell phone. Her smile crept slowly over her burgundy lips. “Wow. What do you think?”
Olive glanced down. It suited with her white cutoff pants, and the ruffled sleeves were sweet. With a shrug she looked back up. “I think it’s cute.”
“I’ve always admired how you don’t care what people think, Ollie.” Olive’s brow furrowed at the classic passive insult. “Well, shall we be on our way? Sawyer will be in town in an hour.”
Olive sighed and smiled pleasantly. She would buy the blouse without taking it off. Suddenly, changing seemed like too much effort.
“So, you’re going to ask Rafe to dinner tomorrow night, right? Ollie, you promised,” Dot whined when Olive let out a small groan. They strolled slowly down Rainbow Row, finishing off the last of their sweet teas. Olive would never tire of the row of colorful homes with iron balconies and cobblestone alleyways. Charleston was the closest shore town by Honeyville and the historic city was magical in a way, and she relished in the vibrancy of the place.
“It’s just strange, Dot,” sh
e admitted. “Now, that Rafe is getting paid to stand in Tom’s shoes, I feel awkward asking him to do anything extra.”
“You are friends though,” Dot muttered, slurping the last of her drink before tossing it in the trash.
“We are.” Olive paused. “I suppose we haven’t talked quite as much since I got engaged to Thomas, but it was mostly out of courtesy for Tom. It’s no secret he and Rafe didn’t get along.”
“Well, Tom is out of the picture, so go back to being friends and come out with me and Sawyer. Unless, you’re afraid you might be more than friends,” Dot giggled, poking Olive in the belly almost as if she wanted to bring attention to her soft middle. “I saw that kiss, Ollie.”
“Would you stop,” Olive begged. “The only reason any kissing was even done was because of your big mouth.”
“I’m still waiting for my thank you.” Olive rolled her eyes and pressed her lips into a tight line. Dot huffed and linked her arm through Olive’s elbow. “Oh, calm down. Why not have a little fun before it’s over?”
“What do you mean?”
Dot offered a furtive glance. “Ollie, things will go back to normal, eventually. It’s not like you and Rafe could actually make a couple.”
“And why not?” Olive demanded.
Dot’s eyes widened. “Well, one, you’re not suited for each other. Two, your mama would never allow it.”
Olive shook her head knowing well enough Dot’s number two was truer than she would like. What? These thoughts were utter madness. Sure, she’d had a few teenage crushes on Rafe Whitfield, but they were adults now. But then again, Tom had never given any ovary-bursting kisses.
Swallowing the heavy gulp of forbidden feelings, Olive knew going down that track would end in fiery heartbreak. A battle every step of the way. People on both sides would always be tugging them apart. It wasn’t fair—and to be honest—Olive didn’t think it was right.
