by C J Marie
“You’re about as fun as a rock to talk to right now. I best be getting home anyway,” Dot said after Olive remained in somber silence too long. She nodded toward the road that would lead her to the East Bay and her family’s impressive blue beach house. With a tight squeeze of Ollie’s shoulders, Dot pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “Ask him, girl. Call me later.”
Dot didn’t wait for any protests before swaying down the road, her phone pressed to her ear. No doubt, chatting with Sawyer. Olive’s shoulders slumped slightly. Olive’s apartment was back over the Honeyville border, but she kept wandering the Charleston streets since she wasn’t ready to go home. It wasn’t quite the peak tourist season, but the walks were getting a bit tighter as the weather warmed.
The sun was dipping beneath the horizon when she found herself at an impasse. One road led her home, the other to the local area, complete with greasy car shops. Dot’s shrill voice echoed in her mind. Olive seriously considered changing her blouse in case Rafe thought the same as Dot about her daring fashion choices, before determining Rafe would prefer if she did as she pleased. The top stayed. One more deep breath, and Olive turned away from her apartment, flagged down a car, and gave directions leading into the setting sun.
A blister from her back sandal strap was forming by the time she walked into the waiting room of Zac’s Auto Repair. The seats were over-stuffed and tattered, and the room smelled of rubber and engine oil. Olive glanced around the counter, the space was empty, although she could hear the whirl of drills and tools at work in the back. Olive released her shopping bags and dinged the bell on the counter. Nothing. Metal music was alive and well with the mechanics. She huffed and dinged the bell again.
“Hello,” she called.
Nothing. Well, she would be having words with Zachariah Dawson about his customer service. Third time would be the charm. Olive dinged again. It seemed the music was getting louder. “Well, for the love,” she grumbled. Half-limping to the back shop because of the new blister, she shoved her way through the heavy door.
Olive nearly cried out, covering her ears against the noise. Really? This was the music they elected to hear. She recognized the back of Zac’s head immediately. Zac was polite enough, maybe a bit of a womanizer, but Olive had always admired his rugged type of handsome. No sign of Rafe.
In her full determined stride, Olive stalked up to Zac’s backside as he entered information into a grimy computer. She tapped his shoulder, and the man nearly split his skin.
“For lands sake, Olive,” he snapped. “You fixin’ to give me a heart attack?”
“Sorry, but I’ve been ringing your weak little bell with no luck at being helped.”
He scoffed and glanced toward the office. “Yeah, I think part of me keeps it so weak so I don’t need to deal with customers. We’re about to close—do you need something looked at? Or, are there other reasons you’ve descended to our neck of the woods?” Zac wiggled his brows playfully.
“Funny, Mr. Dawson. As a matter of fact, I am looking for Rafe. Is he still around?”
Zac’s lips twitched as he tried to contain his smile. Holding up one finger, Zac trudged through the four cars burying his employees. Slapping the hood of a silver Civic he bent down. “Rafe, you got a visitor.”
Zac turned down the radio and winked at Olive before trading places with Rafe as he slipped out from beneath the car. Olive caught her breath. Hot, scorching breath in the back of her throat when Rafe’s broad shoulders stretched from the awkward position. His dark hair was tousled from sweat and work, and despite his skin being streaked in dark smudges, Olive found it hard to focus anywhere else.
Rafe tilted his head. “Ollie?” He stepped around the cars, strutting toward her. Did Rafe just scan her body? “What brings you here?” His eyes were entirely focused on hers, but his jaw was twitching like it was difficult for him. “You look nice.” Yes, Rafe did glance at the swooping top. Olive tried not to smile too bright.
“Hi,” she breathed, afraid he would read her seditious thoughts. “I apologize for bothering you at work, maybe I should have called first.”
Rafe offered an enticing half-grin as he wiped his hands on a rag. “Ollie, you don’t need to call. What’s up?”
“Well, I’ve been talking with Dot—”
“Not always a good thing.”
“Oh, hush,” she chuckled. “Anyway, she’s invited… us… to dinner with her and her boyfriend, Sawyer, tomorrow night.” Olive swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady.
Rafe’s blue eyes flashed in the sunset, and Olive couldn’t remember a time they’d captivated her in such a way. What in the blue-blazes was happening?
“I thought Dot knew,” he signaled his dirty hand between them, “the deal with this whole thing.”
“She does,” Olive said quickly. “It’s just… you and I are friends, right? Dot wants me to get to know Sawyer, so I thought…” Olive didn’t finish. “You know, it was probably presumptuous of me. Forget about it.”
“Now, hold on. Quit answering for me before I even get a chance,” he laughed, tapping her arm. “Why are you being all flitty, Ollie?”
“I’m not,” she snipped.
Rafe rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say. If we go, I mean, are we under pretenses or as regular, old you and me?”
Olive shifted her stance and found a new fascination in a wall of car batteries. “What would you prefer?”
Why did his smile need to be so enchanting suddenly? This was Rafe, for crying out loud. “I say as you and me. How we’re comfortable. Unless you plan on kissing me again, then we can adjust as needed.”
Zac and the other mechanics locked beneath the cars offered a few sultry noises, though no one slipped out from beneath the cars. Olive’s cheeks became a ring of fire and she smacked Rafe’s shoulder. “It was not me doing the kissing, Rafe Whitfield. You sir, are a pariah.”
“Really? Come on, Ollie, you sort of liked it.”
She huffed and folded her arms. “I would hardly call it a kiss.”
Rafe’s eyes flashed with a mischief that added to the tingling blood surging through her veins. “Well, I’ll be sure not to disappoint next time.”
“Ha,” Olive taunted, wishing he’d make good on that promise right now. “You’d be so lucky to get a next time. Can I count on you for tomorrow?”
“I’m in, Ollie.”
“Good,” she grinned, backing toward the office door.
Rafe watched her drift away, wringing the rag tight in his hands. “Oh, hey Ollie, wait.” She held her breath when he stepped closer. Even the smell of sweat and grease on Rafe’s skin added a sensual rush through her body. She needed to dip her head in a bucket of ice water. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe if we’re going to be doing this—we should talk to my mom.”
“It would be the respectful thing,” Olive agreed.
“I’m off in twenty minutes. Want to stick around and we can go tonight?”
Olive swallowed her tongue. “Tonight—tell, Millie tonight?”
He chuckled. “What’s wrong, princess? You scared of my mother?”
“No,” she snipped. “Millie would rather have me than you, so just… hurry up, Rafe. You’re not going all grungy.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered when she rushed into the office. Olive released the pent breath she’d stored in her lungs through the majority of the conversation. Telling Millie she was fake-engaged to her son—Olive couldn’t even predict how tonight was about to go.
Chapter 5
Olive’s knee was bouncing outside her control by the time Rafe slipped into the office. He’d stripped off the dirty jumpsuit, and she tried not to notice how his black T-shirt struggled to keep his arms and shoulders contained.
“Did you drive?” Rafe asked, looking to the parking lot.
“No, I got a ride.”
He nodded. “Well, my truck is dusty, but you’ll survive. Shall we?”
Rafe smiled easily, holding the door open for her. Olive sta
lked outside, hoping he wouldn’t notice how nervous she was to be telling Millie their scandalous lie. Rafe had tried to scrub his hands of the grime, and his skin had a fresher scent to it when he opened the creaky door of his truck, and helped her slip into the passenger seat. Olive didn’t dare meet his eye. Meeting Rafe’s eyes in proximity created confusing emotions lately.
“Why are you limping?”
“Oh, I earned a blister,” she chuckled. “Dot wanted to walk all around Market Center and the battery after I got out of class. Apparently, I should do more walking.”
Rafe shook his head before jogging to the driver’s seat. Olive hadn’t ridden in Rafe’s truck in a long time. Once she’d started dating Tom, she’d mostly taken rides in Tom’s compact sports car. She liked the openness of the truck, and the way she bounced with the road.
“Care if we stop at my place first, since you insist I get presentable?”
Olive chuckled. “You know your mama would send you home if you showed up with grease on your chin.” She swiped a finger over a dark stain on his cheek, bringing out a smile in Rafe.
“That’s probably true.” Rafe glanced at her, his lips pulled into a knowing smirk. “I was surprised to see you, Ollie. You’ve been pretty quiet since the engagement party.”
She scoffed. “Well, I didn’t hear much from you either, Mr. Whitfield. Besides, I’ve been busy at school and getting my final project all put together before graduation.”
“You ready to be done?” he asked.
Olive nodded, resting her elbow out the open window. “It’s bittersweet. I’ll miss the class, but I can’t wait to be done with my schoolwork—and have my own classroom someday.”
Rafe smiled softly. “I’m glad you’re going to teach, Ol.”
“Did you think I’d just go to school and get a degree for fun?”
“Sometimes, especially when you said yes to stupid.”
“Oh, does he have a new name I’m not aware of?” She tilted her head.
“It’s the only name he deserves in my opinion. Mostly I’ve been thinking about what Mr. Till said and how much it bothered you. Don’t listen to all that noise, Ollie. You could be a billionaire and I would still encourage you to teach.” She huffed, drawing his attention across the truck. “What? Did I say something wrong?”
“How is it you can encourage me to do what I love, but I’m not allowed to do the same? You’ve been telling me to hush up about engineering since you were seventeen.”
“Alright, smarty-pants, how do you propose I find time to go to school, pay for tuition, pay my bills, work full-time, help my mama, and escort your butt around town?”
“I could break up with you.”
“You could do that,” he agreed. “But seeing how that would put me out nearly eight grand, I think you might be stuck with me for a minute.”
“Alright, so sign up for classes next Fall—after you’re no longer Olive Cutler’s fiancé.” The thought shouldn’t have brought such a sinking feeling. “I want you to drop some of your stubborn pride for a second and consider letting me help with Millie. I could come be with her after school, or let me help cover some equipment.”
“I’m not letting you pay a dime, Ollie.”
“Why not? Millie means a lot to me too, you know.”
Rafe smiled and nodded. “I know, princess. I know you think everyone can reach their dreams or whatever, but sometimes reality takes over. I’m happy, Ol, okay.”
“Fine, Rafe.”
“You’re not going to let it go, are you?”
“Probably not. I’m sure we’ll be having this same conversation next week and until you realize I’m right.”
“You drive me crazy, Ollie.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
Rafe pulled up along the dirt driveway, parking the truck beneath the steel carport. Olive grinned and took in the front yard. “All the broken-down cars are gone.”
He laughed and waited for her to join him at the side door before unlocking the house and ushering her inside first. “Yeah, it’s been a while since you’ve seen the place.” Olive winced—it had been too long. She should have told Tom if he wanted to marry her, he would have had to accept her friendship with the Whitfield family. Whenever she found herself truly engaged again, she wouldn’t make that mistake twice. “August told me to keep them, but I think I was embarrassing my mom. Wait until you see the living room.”
“Oh, don’t tell me you got rid of the throw-up carpet,” she whined.
“All of it.”
Olive took in the wide, little house. It smelled like spice and coffee. Much more pleasant than the mildew and mold aroma it had at first. Rafe had found the place on a screaming deal almost two years earlier. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms and a decent piece of land—he’d be dense to have let it slip away. As a foreclosure though, the property was sold as-is, and when Olive had first stepped foot in the tattered place, her eyes had locked on the ugly, diarrhea-green, shag carpet in the front room. She beamed, taking in new, polished laminate floors throughout, and clean white walls.
“I like the shutters,” she said looking out the large front window. “Did you make them?”
Rafe nodded. “When I’m not working, this stupid place takes up all my time.” He glanced at the clock on the wall and clapped his hands together. “Well, get comfortable Ol, I’ll shower and be right out.”
“I’m raiding your fridge,” she shouted over her shoulder.
“I’d expect nothing less,” came the muffled reply.
Olive laughed and drifted into the kitchen. She rolled her eyes at the dishes in the sink, but what did she expect. Rafe probably ate on the run every day. She paused at the refrigerator for a moment, catching sight of a picture on the side. There was a layer of dust on the image, so it was most likely forgotten, but Olive couldn’t help but study the smiling faces of the couple. Rafe seemed truly happy in the picture, his arm slung around the woman’s shoulders, a ball cap tucked over his eyes as he laughed at something.
Dalia had been the one woman Olive thought might take Rafe off the market. She’d always been polite to Olive, though never friendly. Olive suspected there were prejudices, maybe jealousy that Rafe and Olive had known each other so long. It didn’t matter, if Olive saw Dalia again she’d claw her eyes out for cheating on Rafe. Thomas had cheated, but only five days after the transgression, Olive found herself hardly heartbroken. Must say something if she didn’t even mind she’d broken up with her fiancé. But Rafe—he hadn’t deserved that from Dalia.
“You’re letting all the cold air out of my fridge,” his booming voice broke her focus.
Olive startled and spun around. She hadn’t even heard the shower shut off. He was running his hands through his damp hair to rid the strands of excess water, wearing a clean blue shirt that made his eyes brighten naturally. Olive didn’t remember opening the fridge, but she shut it quickly and put the photo back under the magnet.
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing,” she insisted. Rafe cocked a brow and glanced at the side of the fridge. His jaw tensed when he studied the picture.
“Must have missed this one,” he grumbled, before tearing it in half and tossing it into the trash.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?” Olive didn’t respond, she just leaned against the wall. “I’m over it, Ollie. I swear.”
Olive scoffed. “Well forgive me if I still want to tear the hair from her head.”
Rafe laughed. “Mama can have a big mouth sometimes. She shouldn’t have ever told you anything about that.”
“You’re right,” Olive insisted. “It should have been you. You deserve better than that, Rafe.”
He tipped her chin with his thumb, and Olive forgot how to breathe. “You can understand why stupid is his name now. It took a lot of self-control not to break his nose on Sunday.”
“Yeah but, you loved Dalia,” she whispered, wishing Rafe would get a little closer so she coul
d breathe the scent of the shore and a fresh breeze soaking his skin better.
The space between his eyes crinkled, and unfortunately he dropped his thumb from her chin. “You didn’t love Tom?”
Olive shrugged. “I don’t think so.”
“Bless your heart, Ollie. How could you agree to marry someone if you didn’t even love him?”
“I thought I did, or at least I would learn to. Life isn’t always simple decisions, Rafe.”
He grumbled under his breath and filled a glass with water. “I wish I could get you to believe you have control of your own life, Olive.”
“Beg your pardon?”
Rafe took a drink and stared out the window. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like you have this belief that if you don’t do everything your family or people at the country club expect you’ll lead a miserable life. I wish you’d see you have quite a brain between those ears and decide for yourself what you want.”
“That isn’t fair, Rafe,” she started, but stopped when he raked his fingers through his hair and snorted slightly.
“We don’t need to get into it. I know I can’t understand your life, same as you can’t understand everything in mine, just promise me next time a guy asks you to marry him, you’ll say yes because you love him.”
Rafe grinned softly and held open the side door once more. Olive took a breath as his comment processed in her thoughts. Did Rafe hold stock in the stigma that they came from two different worlds too? He’d never seemed like their upbringings mattered to him—they certainly didn’t to Olive. She didn’t care that his mother was a housekeeper. She didn’t mind that Rafe was a mechanic, or that August needed two jobs to take care of his baby girl. Even knowing the truth of their no-good-rotten daddy didn’t change her opinion. He was the scoundrel, not the Whitfields. It didn’t change the man she knew in Rafe, the people she knew in August and Millie too.
Her heart shriveled and hardened like a stale raisin when she slunk into the passenger seat. All this time, Rafe only saw her as the princess of the Big House. A woman who didn’t belong with the likes of him—the type of woman he’d never want.
