by C J Marie
Olive laughed and nudged his shoulder with her own. “I can’t imagine in the least why a mother wouldn’t want to live with her bachelor son either.”
They drifted into the main gallery. Olive wouldn’t classify her artistic tastes as distinguished, but she felt her first-graders could create better masterpieces than the ones displayed on the walls. Splattered dots on one canvas seemed as if the artist simply flicked the paint brush once and called it a day. Another seemed to be a painting accident with spilled colors all along the edges of the display. Olive accepted a glass of wine—at least there were drinks and food.
“There you are,” her mother said and gripped Olive’s arm. “Come on, both of you. You’re to be introduced to the artist.” She flicked her gaze to Rafe as if sizing him up for presentation purposes.
Rafe glanced at Olive who snickered since she’d just shared her unimpressed feelings on the artwork. Bernadette Cutler ushered them through the crowds and randomly placed chairs and benches until Olive caught sight of her father speaking to a bulbous man with a single tuft of white hair in the center of his head.
“Mr. Barrett,” her mother crooned. “I’d like to introduce our daughter, Olive and her fiancé, Mr. Rafe Whitney.”
It could have been Olive’s imagination, but she thought her mother struggled over the words more than before. Her daddy took a long drink as if to drown out the lie. Mr. Barrett scanned them both, clutching his lapel importantly. Good Heavens, he couldn’t be more arrogant if he tried.
“I did hear of the upcoming nuptials,” he said shaking Olive’s hand, then Rafe’s. “I told your daddy, Miss Cutler, nothing brings more pride to a father than the pairing of his girl with a man who will provide stability. Seems he took my advice.”
He chortled, and Olive couldn’t keep her expression straight. This man must think her father was a matchmaker and would arrange her marriage someday. Like she was property. Rafe studied Mr. Barrett incredulously, but he was smirking at the man’s haughty attitude. Good, she was certain he’d take offense.
“Barrett, Olive has the brain and picked the man,” her father chuckled. Olive smiled at her father. “Bernadette and I simply got lucky it was a man like Rafe. Now, come on and show me this piece you’ve been boasting over for weeks.”
Mr. Barrett gurgled a sound of pleasure and pride as he soon forgot Rafe and Olive and dragged her father down a narrow hallway. Olive stiffened when her mother turned over her shoulder. “Mr. Barrett is a firm believer young ladies shouldn’t be single past twenty. Strange man, but respected. I appreciate your politeness—both of you.”
Olive tried not to laugh. It was a rare occurrence when Bernadette Cutler showed her distaste for someone related to her father’s work. It was clear by the way her nose crinkled her mother wasn’t too fond of Mr. Barrett. “Of course, mama,” Olive said. “Oh, there’s good news. Rafe found out today Millie is coming home next week.”
Her mother glanced at Rafe, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Wonderful news. Millie is certainly losing her mind staying cooped up with her spirit.”
Rafe smiled and nodded. “She’s starting to get a little bossy with the staff.”
Her mom actually chuckled—sort of. “Well, give her our best, will you?”
“I will, ma’am.”
“Right.” Pretenses were back, when her mother stiffened her shoulders, lifted her chin and started walking away. “Enjoy yourselves. I should go to your father now before Mr. Barrett drags him to each painting.”
Olive looked to Rafe. “Not so bad.”
He shook his head. “That guy is an idiot.”
Olive smirked. “I think even mama would agree with you.”
Rafe took her hand and led her through a room filled with abstract clay statues. Perhaps, Olive wasn’t creative enough, but she couldn’t even determine what the vision was on one sculpture. It seemed Mr. Barrett simply made three oblong spheres, dragged his thumb around in the clay a few times and stuck the pieces together.
Olive turned to suggest her thoughts on what it could be, but she lost her breath. Her eyes narrowed when the woman locked eyes with her across the room. “Let’s go, Rafe,” Olive snapped.
His smile faded as he glanced over his shoulder while Olive tugged him toward the exit.
“Ollie, wait,” she called. “Olive, please.”
Reeling around, Olive fought desperately to keep her temper under control. She didn’t want to embarrass Daddy, but she couldn’t make any promises. “What do you want, Eloise?” Olive snapped. “No, you can’t have this guy either.” She nodded at Rafe.
“I was coming to apologize,” Eloise insisted, her voice a breathy whisper. “Don’t throw a fit.”
“A fit.” Olive chuckled with a slight madness in the sound. She glanced at Rafe. “Everyone thinks I throw fits. I think cheating denotes a few fits, don’t you, Rafe?”
“Come on, Ollie, let’s go,” he grumbled, glaring at Eloise.
Eloise huffed. “Olive, it was a mistake. I didn’t mean for it to happen. Tom was having some nerves, and I was listening. It just happened. He regretted it. We both did.”
“Yeah, because y’all got caught.”
Eloise frowned, her Botox lips tugging at her makeup packed skin. “You can’t say you’re too torn up. You already have a new fiancé in less than a month. So, I don’t need your judgment.”
“You’re right, Eloise,” Olive snarled, squeezing Rafe’s hand. “I found a real man. Doesn’t mean I don’t find your lack of responsibility for what you and Tom did disgraceful. And frankly, I’d rather not talk about it anymore. Have a beautiful night, we certainly will.”
Rafe nudged her elbow when they stepped out onto the back veranda. “You okay?”
Olive shook her head. “No. I don’t care that I’m not with Tom, but those things I said to Eloise were still a lie. I’m just as pathetic as they are—pretending through all this. You know how this story ends. Everyone in that room knowing a man stepped out on me, and the fantasy life ending.”
Rafe shuffled, notably upset. “Ol, we can stop now. We don’t need to keep doing this.”
Olive shook her head. “I made an agreement, Rafe. I follow through with what I say. Sorry for spouting off. Seeing Eloise could have been something I’d gone without tonight.”
He laughed. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“We’re stopping at my place first so I can get out of these blasted heels then.”
He nodded. “I’ll follow you, Miss Cutler.”
Olive waved once at Dot who looked ready to peel out her own eyes standing next to her mother and a man going on about the building design. She didn’t need to wait for Rafe to follow her, he knew the way to her apartment. It was a relief to leave the gallery. They’d appeased their commitment as lovers, she’d confronted Eloise, and now she planned to dress down and enjoy the night. She wouldn’t even think about the fact soon this would all be over and Rafe would go on believing they would never fit together. Tonight, those thoughts could stay far away.
Olive locked her car and stalked across the parking lot toward her building, her arches screamed as if her feet knew comfortable shoes were a few minutes away.
“Olive...”
Her blood cooled as the clicking of her heels on the pavement ceased. Slowly, she turned around. “Tom. What do you think you’re doing here?”
Tom’s lips were set, his eyes flashed in anger, as he rose from the bench just outside the front doors. “I got a call from Eloise that she’d seen you. Funny thing is, she said you weren’t alone.”
Olive backed away. “Get out of here, Tom. You don’t get a say in my life anymore.” Tom gripped her arm so fiercely she cried out from the sting. Olive tried to free herself from his grip, but he only pressed his forehead against hers in fury. “Get your hands off me.”
Tom shook her, his thumbs digging into her skin. “Whitfield,” he raged near her mouth. “You trade me and take Whitfield? I knew you were dumb, Olive, I ju
st never thought you rolled with garbage.”
She tried to shake him again, but Tom only tightened his hold. “Tom, let me go,” she shouted. “You’re hurting me.”
“No,” he snapped. “Not until I put some sense in that head. You’re going to listen, Olive, and you’ll listen good.”
***
Rafe pulled into Olive’s parking lot, using a visitor stall. His heart pounded in his ears since watching her confront Eloise. She’d never denied him—she’d complimented him as a real man. Rafe could have taken her right there if he didn’t have his wits. He was a fool for letting Olive slip further away because he couldn’t shake what society dictated.
Rafe snapped his gaze toward the building when Olive’s angry voice echoed through the night. His blood boiled like molten rivers in his veins. Tom Abernathy had both hands gripping her shoulders, and he shoved her back against the wall of the building. It was a moment of extreme clarity. Rafe watched the second Olive slapped Tom’s face, only to have Tom trap her against the wall again, shouting angry words at her face. The second passed and Rafe charged across the parking lot.
He hardly thought of anything when he wrenched the back of Tom’s shirt and ripped him backward so he fell onto his backside over the curb. “You touch her again, I’ll make sure you don’t get up,” Rafe snarled. Olive was crying and rubbing her arms. It only fueled his anger more.
Tom scrambled to his feet. “You must be pretty proud, Whitfield. You convinced the Cutlers to see past what you are. Nothing, that’s exactly what you are, son. You could have more than any of us, but your daddy saw you were a nobody. A one-night stand mistake.” Rafe took an aggressive step toward Tom, stopping only because Olive tugged his arm. Tom laughed and held up his hands. “You know what. Take her.” He stepped close to Rafe’s face. “She doesn’t put out, anyway.”
Olive’s pleas were buried in his anger when Rafe shoved Tom again. If she hadn’t stepped in front, he’d have punched the guy until his nose snapped.
“Rafe,” Olive begged. “Stop, let’s go inside. He’ll use it against you. Leave him or you’ll get in trouble. Rafe, look at me.” He complied, his eyes burning when she brushed a hand on his cheek. “Think of Millie. Don’t do anything stupid. She needs you, okay. Let’s go.”
Tom seethed his anger, when Rafe stepped back and ushered Olive in front of him into the building. “If I see you around Olive again, nothing will stop me. Understand?”
He didn’t hear Tom’s retort before the glass doors shut on them and the man. Rafe was boiling in the elevator. He silently raged the entire walk down the hall. And he stomped his pace the moment they stepped into her apartment.
Olive’s voice was soft and quivered, causing Rafe to dig his hands through his hair as he tried to soothe the blinding anger solidifying in his chest. “I’m going to change,” she whispered. He didn’t answer, simply kept his pace as she slipped toward her bedroom.
Seeing Thomas with his hands on Olive unleashed a primal urge to defend what was his. But Olive wasn’t his—he’d made it so. Rafe scrubbed his face, the need to stand for Olive, to protect her, boiling across his brain.
He kicked at the wall. He didn’t care anymore. Nothing was more powerful than the frenzy in his soul in this moment. The conflict drove him insane as he kept pacing. He loved her. Without a doubt, Rafe was head-over-heels, stupid in love, with Olive Cutler.
Chapter 12
Olive couldn’t stop her hands from trembling as she slipped out of her dress and pulled on a T-shirt and yoga leggings. Her eyes were wet, and a bit of her makeup smeared underneath her eyelids. Tom had shouted awful things before Rafe had come. The loss of his control over her life seemed to unleash a buried power-complex she hadn’t seen before. Her arms ached from his grip on her skin, but it was the agonizing beat of her heart that caused her the most trouble.
Taking a deep breath, she opened her door and drifted into her front room. Rafe was pacing menacingly. His eyes dark and dangerous when he glanced in her direction. Olive swallowed when he stopped his mad steps and crossed the space between them. Rafe tugged her tight against his chest. Olive buried her face in the folds of his dress shirt, her arms slipping around his waist as silent tears fell.
His gentle fingers traced the raised welts on her biceps. Rafe’s jaw tightened and his shadowed eyes locked on her. “I’m going to kill him.”
“I’m fine, Rafe.”
“No, there’s nothing fine about this,” he seethed, releasing her and returning to his furious steps. “You’re going to tell your daddy about this, or I will. I have half a mind to go and finish that jackass off right now.”
Olive wiped her cheeks. “Why?”
Rafe stopped and faced her. “Why? Why wouldn’t I want him to pay for what he did? He could have really hurt you, Olive.”
She swiped at her eyes and turned her back on him. “That’s not what I meant. You’re like a madman, Rafe. You care so much, but why? Is it like some strange big brother thing you’ve got with me, or—” her voice faded when she turned and he was towering over her.
Rafe’s body pinned her against the wall, both his palms resting next to her head. “There is no reality where I view you like a sister.”
She narrowed her gaze and shoved out of his hold. “You feel so strongly, but you won’t do anything,” she cried. “You stand there letting others dictate what we do. It’s cowardly. If you don’t want me, then just be a man and say so. But don’t come in here in a huff, making me believe you feel as deep as me.”
A sob burst from her throat when he listened intently, his eyes flashing with something else, something that thrilled and frightened her in the same breath. Rafe crossed the room in two strides, his strong palms trapping the sides of her face.
“You don’t think I want you? I want you so much I can’t see straight. When I was fourteen, I knew I’d do just about anything to kiss you, Ollie.” His mouth brushed across her jawline, until she shuddered in his hold. “Then when I was sixteen, I’d get crazy jealous whenever some guy took you out.” Olive closed her eyes when his lips sealed around the shell of her ear. “You’ve always been the one I want, but couldn’t have. Everything about you sends my head spinning. Your laugh, your smile, your sweetness, your body.” Olive trembled when his hand slipped across her stomach, half beneath her T-shirt. “But who am I to think those things about someone like you? What do I have to offer? I tried to forget, but even being with other people I could never shake you. Olive, you don’t know how hard I fight to ignore this… passion I feel inside whenever you’re around.”
She didn’t care that tears fell when she gripped her fingers around his shirt. “Stop fighting, Rafe.”
He narrowed his eyes again, the sound of his voice husky and deep. “Maybe I am,” he said, his lips caressed her face as her back found the wall again. “Maybe I don’t care anymore. Maybe being with you, having you, is the only thing I care about.”
Olive’s insides turned into a flaming inferno when his fingers threaded through her hair. She shook her head. “I’m in this, Rafe,” she whispered. “But I don’t want you to have regrets.”
Rafe crushed his mouth on hers for a shuddering moment before scooping his hands beneath her thighs and lifting her in his arms. Pulling back, his eyes were like blue fire. “You could never be a regret, Ol.”
Olive kissed him fiercely. Her fingers threaded through his hair. For years she’d wondered what it would feel like to love Rafe openly. She’d always yearned to be the one he chose. As he held her close his touch was gentle, yet commanding, sweet, yet firm. When the fear of the night faded into nothing but calm in Rafe’s arms, Olive knew she was crazy, stupid in love with the boy she’d known all her life.
***
The wood flooring in Olive’s hallway creaked when gray dawn was hardly spilling through the front window. Rafe cracked his eye and grinned when her tousled hair spilled into her face as she leaned over the back of the couch. Reaching up, he trailed his fingers along her ch
eeks, allowing every detail of the night replayed in his mind. Olive grinned and quickly slipped beneath the blanket. Her honey eyes gleamed gold in the morning light when she met his gaze. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face, feeling her toes rub along his legs.
“I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to wake up to your face,” he whispered.
She smiled, her thumb brushing across his lips. “And? What’s the verdict?”
Rafe pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, smiling against her mouth. “Better than I imagined.”
He rolled onto his back, and Olive rested her chin in the center of his chest. “I want you, Rafe Whitfield,” she whispered. He smiled, running his fingers through her hair. “Where do we go from here?”
Rafe stared at the ceiling. After Tom’s aggression the night before, a nuclear attack couldn’t have gotten him to leave Olive alone. After hours of holding each other and falling deeper and deeper, he imagined he could marry Olive in an instant. Now that morning had come there was still the reality that not everyone would accept them together.
“Where do you want to go, princess?”
“I want to be with you, Rafe.”
“You’re willing to accept what that could mean?”
Olive’s eyes glistened, but she nodded. “No one has ever caused me to feel the way you do. I know because you’ve been making me feel this way since I lost my first tooth.”
He laughed, and wrapped his arms around her waist, lengthening her across his body. “Ollie, I can’t go back, so I’m in this too. Just be patient with me, I still have the same worries.”
She kissed his lips slowly, a surging need ripped through his body again until she pulled away. “People might not understand, Rafe. They might even tell us we’re fools, but I need you to hear me—it doesn’t matter. I would live in a cardboard box with you.”
