by C J Marie
Olive swallowed and faced her, silencing a story Dot was readying to tell. The woman had caught the attention of snobbish Mr. and Ms. Hamblin from the neighboring property. “Is that true, Miss Cutler?’ Rosita Hamblin asked in a breathy gasp.
Beau smiled viciously as Olive put on her most pleasant grin. “Yes, ma’am. I’m set to graduate at the end of April. The elementary school has already offered me a position.”
Rosita’s brow furrowed, Beau’s blonde chuckled and leaned against his shoulder. Olive was growing accustomed to people disapproving of her menial profession choice. Menial, according to them, still it was tiresome constantly explaining her choice.
“I can’t understand what would drive anyone to spend their days teaching counting and coloring shapes,” crowed Rosita, the layers of skin beneath her chin warbling with each word. “Although, I suppose a woman of your position could have a positive influence on young people who aren’t as fortunate. We could always do with more distinguished, polished, and refined educators, in my opinion.”
Rafe’s hand dropped from around her shoulders. Olive’s heart thudded imagining he was frustrated—perhaps Rafe even grouped her in with such ignorant beliefs. As he said earlier, he believed they led much different lives. Olive wasn’t sure she saw the disconnect. But then, Rafe’s hand gripped around her fingers wringing in her lap. He squeezed her hand tight, setting flame to the sassy fire inside that her mother would rather Olive do without. “Forgive me, ma’am,” Olive said, through a forced smile. “In my experience some of those little kids have more manners than most of the more distinguished adults I’ve met.”
Rosita seemed at a loss for words or opinion. Probably a first.
“I wonder, Miss Olive.” Great, now Mr. Hamblin was in on the conversation. “What your future husband thinks of you mucking around down there? Don’t mistake me, good teachers are hard to come by, but I wonder if you’d be better suited at the academy. It’s cleaner and safer.”
Zac snorted, muttering under his breath so Olive didn’t think Mr. Hamblin heard. “Yeah, all those dirty six-year-olds strike fear into my heart.”
Olive bit her bottom lip to keep from letting laughter fly, and Rafe glared at Zac. Ronald Hamblin tapped his fingers impatiently waiting for her reply. Olive fought the urge to roll her eyes. Whether she had a future husband or not, why was it anyone else’s decision but hers how she earned a living?
Rafe turned his attention down the table, his voice smooth like melting chocolate as he kept his composure. “I agree, there is a shortage of good teachers, sir. How I feel about Ollie mucking around, as you say—I figure wherever she wants to teach, they’d be lucky to have her.”
Zac grinned, taking a drink of his water, Sawyer raised his glass in agreement, and Dot winked at Olive from across the table.
Olive could have tossed her fork at her cousin when he spoke again—he wasn’t going to let this go. “Rafe knows how to appease his woman,” Beau chuckled. “When he really feels the same as you, Mr. Hamblin. He knows what’s best for Ollie, and being around her own at the academy is best, right? You going to take those pants you gave up back after the wedding, Rafe?”
Mr. Hamblin laughed and nodded. “Solid advice, son,” he said glancing at Rafe. “Sometimes the man needs to put his foot down. It will save you and the lady a lot of disagreements knowing where the line is drawn right from the start.”
Olive imagined her brains were steaming out each ear. They were a duo of Neanderthals in expensive suits. If her mother wasn’t shaking her head in her direction, and her father’s face hadn’t hardened like a stone (either for Mr. Hamblin’s retort, or her riling temper, she didn’t know) Olive might have tossed an epic hissy fit right there. Rafe smiled, it wasn’t kind. She knew he was frustrated and hiding it well. Sawyer, Zac, and Dot watched on as if waiting for a classic showdown.
With his hand tighter around Olive’s fingers, Rafe faced Beau. “Actually, Beau, I don’t plan to take them back.” He glanced at Olive briefly. “I find that I’m the one needing a spitfire, like Ollie, keeping me in line. You should try it some time, having a woman who thinks for herself. In my humble opinion, loving a woman like that, takes a real man.”
Beau glared at Rafe, Ms. Hamblin, to Olive’s surprise smiled, though Mr. Hamblin didn’t seem pleased. Olive couldn’t contain her lips tugging up at the corners. Rafe said the word love, and it sent her lungs, stomach, all major organs, flipping upside down. Her heart thudded against her chest, and Olive was certain it was destined to break free like a caged bird and fly away if she didn’t do something soon. Her fingers trembled as she cautiously placed one palm on the side of Rafe’s face. The gentle nudge of her hand, forced his attention toward her. With only a slight hesitation, Olive leaned in and eased her lips over his.
Rafe’s jaw tensed beneath her palm for half a breath until he cupped the back of her neck and tugged her harder on his mouth. Olive kissed him—not for show—she knew in the secret thoughts of her mind, she was kissing Rafe Whitfield for her and no one else. It was slow, chaste, the sort of kiss that breaks the heart and warms the soul at the same time. Reluctantly, Olive pulled back—it was the dinner table after all—her eyes locked on Rafe for a heart-stopping moment. His gaze didn’t falter from hers, and she could live with his thumb brushing gently across her cheek for the rest of her days.
Smiling softly, Olive turned toward the Hamblins. “Those things he says, that’s why I keep this guy around, sir. I pay well for his compliments.”
Ms. Hamblin flushed, but chortled and her husband joined in, slapping his knee. Olive shot a final dagger at her cousin. Beau was guzzling his wine like there was a shortage and avoiding her end of the table. Rafe took a long drink himself. Olive winced when Dot kicked her shin from under the table. Her cheeks flushed in crimson when she caught sight of her friend rocking lewdly in her seat, her tongue slipping out as she mimicked inappropriate things. Dot only offered the show for a split-second before winking and turning her attention back to Sawyer. Her boyfriend seemed entirely entertained.
“It’s such stuffy talk,” Krista muttered toward Zac.
“I agree and that’s why we keep Olive around, she keeps things interesting,” he chuckled, side-hugging Krista against his body. Zac smiled beneath his scruffy face and winked at Olive.
They weren’t wrong, the table was stuffy. The same stuffy conversation Olive had known her entire life. Yet, facing the snobbery head on with Rafe tonight, had unlocked a piece of her she’d long forgotten. Conforming didn’t suit, and frankly, it was dull. Olive wasn’t bored to death at the table, she wasn’t offended by the passive comments on her appearance or career. No, having Rafe at her side, she felt lighter and unashamed.
Olive knew it was wrong, she shouldn’t put Rafe in an impossible situation, but when he grinned at her in his way that let her know she had some explaining to do, she leaned against him again. Their fingers curled together beneath the hem of the tablecloth and they stayed there until guests were invited to finish the evening with coffee and more drinks. Although, throughout the night, Rafe rarely released Olive’s hand.
Chapter 9
Rafe breathed a sigh of relief once they weaseled their way out the back door, and onto the lawn. Zac was laughing at something Olive said, and Krista was fluffing her hair once the wet air struck like a thick wall. Guests, neighbors, associates, still bantered in droll voices in the living room. With one nod to the back door by Mr. Cutler during a particularly boring business takeover story, Rafe grabbed Olive’s hand and tugged her toward freedom. Zac didn’t need convincing before he rushed right on his tail.
Rafe lifted his attention to the velvet sky. The stars shone like trapped gemstones, brighter tonight since summer was just around the corner. Tolerating another question about his ‘business’ out in New Orleans wasn’t possible by the time the lawn was brimming in fireflies. His mouth felt dirtier the more white lies he told, and by the grimace on Olive’s face she felt the same.
Kr
ista whispered in Zac’s ear and he flicked his brows. Clapping Rafe on the shoulder he nodded toward his truck. “So, we’re going to head on home. It’s been… educational, Olive. Keep him in line okay?”
Olive smiled and waved as they left. Rafe shook his head watching his friend scurry away. “First Dot and Sawyer, now Zac and Krista.”
Olive snickered. “They want to have a good time in their own ways, I guess. Dot and Sawyer scurried off to their hole before dessert was cleared away. If he really does end up proposing, I think Dot might have an aneurism. She’s crazy over that man. I’ve never seen her so giddy all the time.”
“I think he’s a decent guy,” Rafe agreed. “I like Dot more around him.”
Olive sneered. “I’ll tell you a secret,” she whispered. “I like her better with him too. Not one snide comment about my clothing the entire time he’s been in town.”
Rafe chuckled, automatically drifting toward the creek. Bubbling water trickled over cobblestones. The edge of the bank was submerged by the spring rains. Rafe scoffed when Olive immediately removed her high heels and stepped into the water. She shuddered, beaming over her shoulder at Rafe standing on the grass. “You coming in?”
He glanced down at his suit pants. “I don’t think so.”
Olive smiled softly. With the gilded light from lanterns along the various paths on the lawn, her complexion frosted in a stunning glow. “You big baby.”
Rafe glared at her. Pride demanded he rise to her challenge. Tugging off his shoes and socks, he rolled up his pants, though the water was deep enough it was pointless once he stepped off the bank. “It’s freezing,” he gasped against the shock.
Olive laughed. “You have gotten weak, Rafe Whitfield. It’s been too long since you’ve gotten in the water.”
“It took me three years to get you into this water, you can give me a few minutes.”
“I was afraid of snakes,” she teased. “Because you and August insisted on telling me gator-eating snakes slithered out of the sand when disturbed too much. So it’s really your fault I avoided the water.”
He chuckled, remembering that exact lie. He waded to her side and followed her focus on the sky. “We made it through another one,” he muttered after a few moments.
Olive didn’t drop her eyes from the heavens, but she nodded. “We sure did. That’s two down, three to go.”
Rafe studied her profile. Olive’s eyes always seemed to be smiling, even if she was glaring at him. Unashamed, he eyed her full lips. The soft shade of lipstick was faded now, but after having her mouth on his tonight, Rafe found himself captivated with the gentle peaks, and curves of her grin. When had the girl from the Big House turned into such a beauty? It didn’t really matter, because Rafe wasn’t fool enough to deny she was stamping her name on his heart the longer they kept the charade going. Clearing his throat, Rafe squared his body closer to Olive, until she met his eye with subtle trepidation.
“Ollie, why did you kiss me tonight?” Rafe didn’t want to hint to the inner torment inside, but his husky voice gave it all away.
Olive flashed a smile and folded her arms around her middle. “I thought I had kissing privileges.”
“Were you kissing me for show?”
Olive bit a portion of her bottom lip before tilting her face to meet his eyes. “What if I told you I didn’t?”
He took a step closer, the icy water soothing the boiling need in his veins as the creek wrapped around his legs. “Then I’d ask you again, why’d you kiss me?”
Rafe held his breath when Olive’s fingertips traced along his arm. She took a deliberate step closer, close enough Rafe could rest his hand on the small of her back. And that’s exactly what he did. Colliding thoughts rampaged in his mind. This was Olive Cutler—his forbidden fruit. The woman he could never have, she was ten levels above him and didn’t belong with a grungy, blue-collar man. But when she looked at him like she’d surrender everything if he chose to claim her that instant, Rafe allowed the possibility to leak through the societal criticisms that had plagued him his entire life.
Olive swallowed, her open palm coming to rest in the center of his chest. “I kissed you because of what you said. You weren’t acting when you said those things about teaching, about me.” Another step. The ebony haze of the night surrounded the precise place they stood. Olive’s body pressed against his. Rafe tightened his hold around her waist, the tips of his fingers drifting over the curve below her waist. He never blinked as he breathed in the smooth vanilla and sugar combination soaking her skin. Olive’s voice was hardly a whisper when she spoke again. “I kissed you, Rafe, because I wanted to kiss you.”
Cupping one side of her face, Rafe lowered his voice, his lips brushing over hers as he spoke. “What are we doing, Olive?”
“I don’t know.”
“We should probably stop.”
“Probably.”
“What if I don’t care to stop anymore?”
Olive grinned and closed the minuscule gap between their mouths. Rafe had experienced a total of three kisses with Olive Cutler before this moment. One at age seven, not impressive. The awkward, sweet kiss at the engagement announcement, and the dinner table—sweet, but with more meaning. This fourth kiss blew them all out of the water. Olive’s hands trapped his face, holding him firmly on her mouth. Rafe gripped her hair, tousling her auburn waves without care. She sighed against his mouth, and Rafe pulled her hips firmer against his own and urged her toward the sandy bank.
Olive’s kiss deepened and Rafe took control when he rested her back against the grass. Olive gasped when their mouths broke a part. She scooted backward until her feet were out of the water. Rafe kept his eyes locked on hers, his arms trapping her body beneath him. For a moment he considered the consequences of continuing, but one touch from her warm hand on his face and Rafe claimed her mouth again.
His suit was soaked, but he didn’t care. Olive hooked one leg around his, her arms clung to his neck. Rafe’s hand trailed along her thigh, his mouth releasing her lips, and pressing against her jaw and smooth neck. Rafe took her mouth once more, at the same moment crunching footsteps approached along the gravel path near the creek.
Olive’s head snapped up, Rafe’s too. He leaped off her body, peering through the wall of trees and shrubs. Adjusting her dress, Olive chuckled. “It’s just Arnie and the boys,” she gasped when the groundskeepers walked toward the back of the house to get into their cars after a day of overtime preparing for the party. Rafe flopped back on the grass, every inch of his body was a blazing inferno. Olive hugged her knees to her chest, her gaze finding the stars again. “We got caught up in all this, didn’t we?”
His jaw pulsed, but he reached for her hand. Olive peered over her shoulder, her untamed hair shaping her face perfectly. Pressing a kiss to the top of her hand he nodded. “Probably, princess. Sorry, I shouldn’t have let it go on so long.”
“I didn’t mind,” she said nudging his shoulder.
“Ollie,” he breathed out, closing his eyes. “You know I care about you, but—”
“It’s fine, Rafe,” she interjected. Olive snapped to her feet, brushing off the blades of grass stuck to her dress and wet legs. “I get it, really.”
Rafe sighed, reaching for his shoes. “You deserve someone who can give you everything.”
“Rafe, please,” she said—was her voice cracking? “I said I understood. We’re not in the cards. Never were, right? That’s what everyone says. I consider you one of my greatest friends, that’s what we are.”
“Right,” he muttered. “That’s just how it is.”
Olive met his eye. His entire life, society dictated to him that he would never amount to anything worthy of a Cutler. He didn’t measure up for the Whitneys, a Whitfield is what he was and he was proud of that, even if his name didn’t allow for Olive Cutler.
Watching Olive put her sweet smile back in place. Hearing a few of her comments brushing off the slip-up as getting lost in a fake engagement, he knew she�
��d been told much the same. Rafe wished it wasn’t so, but Olive did deserve someone who could give her everything. And that thought left a sinking weight in the pit of his stomach. They could be friends, they’d always been friends. He just wanted to cross the forbidden line and be so much more.
***
Distance was the key. Space between her and Rafe became the settled on solution to ease the untamable pull to feel his lips on her—entire body, not to make anyone blush—and for a time it worked. Until a familiar emptiness in her heart starting budding.
Olive buried herself into the final stretch of student teaching. Nearly three weeks after the passion on the creek, Olive and Rafe settled back into normal. Texting, when they ran into each other in town they laughed, waved, or talked about the surface of life. The thing was, Olive hadn’t stopped thinking of the hammer in her pulse that night. The fire tingling across the surface of her skin was an experience she’d never taken with a man before. Everything had faded away, and there was only Rafe. His touch was strong, charged, yet gentle. His hands kept her safe and empowered her as if they were designed for Olive since the beginning.
But he wouldn’t take her.
Olive pouted as she signed her name on the visitor’s log on Sunday. When he’d kissed her that night, Olive devoured his passion, his want for her, and it only fueled her own desire. In the end though, Rafe made it clear he’d never take the step over the line. In his mind they were from different worlds, and it wouldn’t suit. Perhaps it wasn’t worth the struggle to him—though, Olive thought she’d go to battle to have more of Rafe Whitfield. Her head replayed a constant reminder that there would always be disapproval if Olive pursued him. But no matter how strong the brain spoke, her heart pounded harder. Through all her crushes on the man over the years, the craving for Rafe had never ignited so desperately. Olive was sure she was losing her senses.
