All My Life

by C J Marie

  He rolled his eyes. “You would not.”

  “Would to. Though, I would insist on bringing my pearls. It’s still important to look nice, even in a box.”

  He pinched her sides, and she shrieked, smacking his chest. Rafe rolled, so she was half beneath him. Brushing the hair off her forehead, he kissed her nose. “If that’s all you need, then you’ve got me, Ollie.”

  She studied his face, her fingers tracing the length of his spine causing his skin to raise beneath her fingertips. “That’s all I need, Rafe.”

  He smiled through his raging pulse. This didn’t seem real, to be here with Olive Cutler, admitting they were together. After a few more kisses, Rafe stared at Olive. “I think you should tell your parents what happened, Ol.”

  “I’ll call them,” she promised. “But you need to promise me that’s where it ends. Don’t go all macho and hunt down, Tom. Understand?”

  Rafe pretended to pout, until she pinched his arm. “Fine,” he chuckled. “I won’t bloody his face, even if he deserves it, but you’re not staying here tonight.”

  She offered a sultry grin. “Oh, really? And where do you propose I stay, Mr. Whitfield?”

  Rafe nipped her bottom lip, squeezing her waist with his embrace. “With me.”

  “Do I need to bring a sleeping bag for the couch, or…”

  Rafe chuckled, pressing soft kisses along her neck. “No, Ollie, you won’t be needing a sleeping bag.”

  One night turned to two, and Olive still had some of her things at his house on Monday morning. He’d found it exciting to wake up with her in his arms until they both had to gather themselves together on Monday morning and be adults. Olive kissed him slowly, before slipping into her car and leaving for school an hour before he left for work.

  Zac was eyeing him carefully while he popped a potato chip into his mouth. Once again, Zac’s chin was dark with a three day scruff.

  “What are you looking at?” Rafe asked, tossing the rest of his sandwich in the trash.

  “What’s up with you? You’ve been smiling like a preacher in church all day.”

  “I have not, and what’s up with you? Your beard is back. How does Callie feel about that?”

  Zac rolled his eyes and muttered something under her breath. “Does it look like I care? I like my beard, so I’m growing my beard.”

  “Touchy. Meeting the parents didn’t go well, I’m guessing.”

  “The parents were fine,” Zac said. “It was Callie’s constant nagging at the things I wasn’t doing right that nearly drove me to the nut house. ‘Make sure you shake hands firmly.’ ‘Say thank you for the meal.’ ‘Why did you wear the blue shirt, when I said my mama’s favorite color is yellow?’ You get the idea.”

  “So no wedding then?”

  “Definitely no wedding. So, what’s going on, Rafe? Did the thing with the Cutlers go extra good or what?”

  Rafe smirked, taking up some of his tools when they stepped back onto the work floor. The other employees were already digging into the heart of a Camaro and the blaring music was alive and well. “It went… great.”

  Zac scoffed. “You’re an idiot. Spit it out, what’s got you walking on sunshine?”

  They’d decided they were doing this, it didn’t need to be a secret, but that didn’t mean breaking old habits was easy. “Uh, Olive might have… stayed over this weekend.”

  Zac’s eyes widened, and he hooted. “You dirtbag. Are you kidding me? Wait, you’re not calling it quits or anything, right?”

  Rafe shook his head. “No way, man. After this, I don’t know how I could walk away.”

  Zac nodded cautiously. “You know what I’m going to say, right?”

  “We both know, man. Not everyone is going to approve. I don’t like it, because I feel like Ollie will be the one giving up the most, you know. It grates on me, like what kind of man asks a woman to do that.”

  Zac waved his hand. “The one Olive Cutler has wanted forever. She’s had googly eyes for you as long as I’ve known her. You’re about the same, but too dumb to see it back in high school. Just get ready for it, yeah? She’s a grown-up and probably knows better than both of us what she’s going to face.” Zac clapped him on the back before bending down to the tires of a brand new pickup. “I’m happy for you, Rafe. Really.”

  “Thanks, Zac.”

  Rafe was happy. He could hardly wait for the workday to end because Olive was coming back to his place to help with the therapist inspection. They had another dinner at the end of the week, but somehow pretending to be in love with Olive wasn’t going to be hard. He wasn’t lying anymore. She was his—as much as the concerns tried to seep in—Rafe left the shop that day lighter than he’d felt in a long time.

  Zac locked the door behind them, laughing harder at some requests Callie had made over the weekend. Rafe checked his phone. If he hurried, he would have time to shower before Olive came over. By the looks of him, he desperately needed a shower.

  “Uh, hey Rafe,” Zac grumbled, nodding toward the street. Rafe glanced up, and his stomach plummeted to his feet. “I think I’ll go over the receipts again.”

  “Coward,” Rafe snarled. Zac didn’t care and rushed back into the shop as Rafe tossed his keys in his hand and stalked toward his truck. He wasn’t going to deal with this today.

  “Rafe,” Dalia called to his back when he opened his door. “Rafe, will you talk to me?”

  “What for, Dalia?” he snapped. The desperation in her green eyes didn’t faze him at all.

  “Please. At least let me apologize,” she begged.

  “Fine,” he grumbled. “Apologize for sleeping with someone—in my bed—which I’ve now replaced.”

  “Rafe, I’ve never regretted anything so badly in my life. I loved you, but it was as if I couldn’t reach you.”

  “So, naturally cheating would get my attention, right?”

  Dalia glanced at the ground, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. “It was wrong. I was hoping we could go somewhere and… talk.”

  “No,” he said simply. “I don’t want to talk. I’ve moved on, Dalia. You should too.”

  “We had something wonderful, Rafe. Do you really want to throw it away?”

  “You had a funny way of showing how wonderful things were. Now, excuse me. I have a therapist coming to inspect for the house coming over before my mom gets home.”

  “Can I help? Do you need anything for Millie?”

  Rafe climbed into his truck and turned the ignition. “No, Olive is helping. I’m just fine.”

  Dalia’s gaze narrowed. “Olive Cutler? Isn’t she supposed to be engaged?”

  Rafe smiled. Yes, yes she was. He didn’t say it to be vindictive—to his astonishment—he said the words because he was proud. “No. Not anymore. She’s with me now.”

  Dalia’s face fell. “You aren’t serious?”

  “Dead serious. Bye, Dalia. Apology accepted, now you can let it go, okay.”

  She said nothing, but slowly backpedaled as he drove out of the lot. The more Rafe said the words the stronger he felt his resolve build. If he kept shouting to the world that Olive Cutler was his alone, he suspected he wouldn’t care if the president himself told Rafe to leave her—that was something he wasn’t willing to do.

  Chapter 13

  Olive didn’t call her parents, she figured discussing what happened face to face might be better. She wondered what her mother might think since Rafe had come with her, but then when she glanced at his hand wrapped tight in hers as he stared out the passenger window, Olive didn’t find she cared.

  “I think I should start sleeping at my place again,” she chuckled once she turned her car down the long lane.

  She only laughed harder when Rafe faced her with an incredulous expression, he squeezed her hand. “Why would you say something crazy like that?”

  She grinned. “Rafe, Millie is coming home in two days. I need to give you some space to get settled.”

  He leaned over the console, glancing around
as they entered the property as if checking for prying eyes. Drawing her hand against his lips he smirked. “She already thinks you’re there, anyway.”

  Olive tilted her head and rolled her eyes. “I’ll still come over, but I’ve been camping out there for four days now. You’re distracting me from my project too, Mr. Whitfield.”

  He pressed a quick kiss to her neck. “But distracting you is too enjoyable.”

  Olive would agree. She was nearly finished with her final writing project for her degree. She could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Four weeks and she’d have her diploma in hand and be free of testing centers, and textbooks.

  “Ready?” she asked once they parked along the house.

  Rafe glanced toward the garden shed tucked behind two magnolia trees. “I might stop in and see Arnie,” he offered. “I haven’t been helping up here at all since this whole thing started. I figure I should say hello.”

  She nudged him in the ribs, pecking his lips before releasing his hand. “Liar. You’re just being a chicken.”

  Rafe laughed and Olive nearly tipped over when he kissed her slowly right there in the open for anyone to see. “Maybe a little one,” he admitted against her mouth.

  Olive shrieked when he swatted at her rear once she drifted away from him. She was beaming in breathless disbelief when she stepped into the kitchen from the side door. Everything bled together in one delightful fairy tale. How was it that Rafe Whitfield’s kiss finally burned her lips?

  “Mama?” she called.

  “Olive,” her mother’s collected voice echoed from the study. “In here.”

  Olive wanted to skip down the hallway, but she startled when she nearly ran into Beau’s backside loitering in the hall. “Beau—I didn’t see you there. What are you doing up here?”

  Her cousin had a strong shape, and he’d be impeccably handsome if he wasn’t such a hell-raiser. He smirked, the glint in his eye borderline malicious. “Just stopping in on business. What’s got you so… chipper?”

  “Nothing,” she snapped, though she strongly considered admitting what had gone on with Rafe just to see Beau roll in his polo shirt. Her tongue tied, and Olive imagined her lack of forthcoming might aggravate Rafe. She brushed it off as this being Beau. He didn’t matter in their relationship.

  “What’s Whitfield doing with you?”

  Was Beau sneering?

  Olive swallowed the scratchy lump and shrugged. “None of your business.” Again, she should lay it out there, but Beau didn’t deserve to know first, and honestly, Olive didn’t trust him not to go cause trouble for Rafe once she left. “Excuse me, I need to speak with my parents.”

  Beau moved aside and slipped his sunglasses over his eyes. With a deliberate grin, he strutted outside the same way Olive came in. She rolled her eyes. Beau was family, but exhausting. Olive paused once she entered the study to watch her parents sitting together on the sofa. Her father muttered something, and it relieved a side of her to see her mother grin. Bernadette needed to smile more often, yet as of late, it seemed only Daddy could get the real grins to come out.

  “Hi, Mama, Daddy,” she sighed, stalking toward the leather chair near the bookcase.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” her father crooned. “This is a nice surprise having you call. Sit.”

  Olive complied. Holding a tray of sweet tea, her mother handed her a glass whether she was thirsty or not. “What did you want to speak to us about?” Bernadette asked.

  It shouldn’t be difficult, but Olive felt squirrely anyway. She didn’t know how her parents would react. She hoped they would come to her defense, but at the same time, the Abernathy’s were close friends with her family. And one thing Olive learned through her life, rocking the boat wasn’t something smiled upon.

  “Baby, what’s going on?” She must have paused too long, because her father’s voice was heavy and on edge once he spoke.

  Clearing her throat, and taking a sip of her tea, Olive glanced up. “I feel I should tell you something happened after the gallery. I don’t mean to make waves, but it was frightening, and I imagine you’d care to know.” Even her mother’s brow furrowed now. Strangely, it gave Olive strength to continue on. “Thomas confronted me outside my apartment building. He’d heard rumors I was… engaged. He wasn’t happy.”

  Now Lon Cutler’s eyes darkened the same as his voice. “What do you mean confronted?”

  Olive cautiously retold the situation. She explained Tom’s shouting and ranting. fading bruises on her arms were kept hidden beneath her sleeves, because after the first explanation of how Thomas grabbed her, used words like a whore, slut, and tramp, her daddy was on his feet, pacing behind the couch. Actual physical evidence of Tom’s fury might send the man on a raging spree.

  “Mama,” Olive nudged. “Are you alright?”

  Bernadette had sat quietly, sipping her tea without moving. Olive supposed she got her fiery side from her father, as it seemed her mother was able to keep any thoughts concealed beneath her cool demeanor. “I’m wondering, that’s all. How did you diffuse the situation?”

  Olive crossed her leg. She’d hoped her mother might ask if she was alright, but at least Bernadette wasn’t blaming Olive for upsetting poor Tom. “I had help. Rafe stepped between us.”

  That earned an eyebrow raise from her mother, and her father stopped pacing. “He was there?” Lon asked. “That boy better have broken Thomas’s jaw.”

  “Lon,” Bernadette gasped. “He most certainly should not have. Olive Jane, Rafe didn’t hit Thomas did he?”

  She shook her head. “I pulled him back. Told him Tom would turn it against him and then Millie would suffer.”

  “Sensible.” It seemed that was as close to a compliment as Olive was going to get.

  “I didn’t want to upset y’all, but I thought it best to tell you.”

  Her father stopped and pointed a finger at Olive, his eyes wild and determined. “If he comes close to you again, Olive I’ll bury that son of a—”

  “Lon Cutler, you keep your voice down,” her mother chided. “It’s over, now. Olive you weren’t harmed, correct?”

  Her face flushed, and it seemed this was going to get swept under the rug. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or frustrated. “I’m fine, Mama.”

  “No use losing our heads then,” Bernadette went on with a sharp glance at her husband. “We can all be glad there won’t be a wedding with the man. This will be the end of it, right, Olive? No one is going to go and have more words with Thomas?”

  Olive snapped to her feet, her lips pressed tight. “If you mean, is Rafe going to go beat Thomas senseless, no, Mama. He’s not an animal and has self-control.”

  “Don’t take that tone. It’s as much for Rafe’s protection as Thomas’s.”

  Olive couldn’t argue that, but she still tugged the hem of her blouse and stiffened her shoulders. “I apologize—”

  “Stop apologizing, baby girl,” her father grumbled.

  She smiled softly. “I need to be on my way. Rafe is out there waiting.”

  Her mother narrowed her gaze, not unkindly, almost confused. “You brought him here? Why didn’t he come in?”

  “He’s visiting with Arnie. We’re out buying the last few things for Millie, she’s getting released on Friday.”

  Olive quickly hugged each of her parents before leaving, her father still had a crimson flush to his handsome face, but he smiled and kissed her forehead. Rafe was leaning against the side of her car when she came back out. He grinned, but it fell quickly when he looked over her head. Olive turned and saw her father stalking toward him. Rafe straightened and seemed surprised when Lon stuck out his hand. Rafe shook her father’s hand firmly.

  “You defended my girl,” Lon snarled. “I can’t thank you enough, son.”

  “Always, sir,” Rafe said, though the words had a different meaning to Olive that day.

  Her father clapped Rafe on the shoulder and nodded, backing away. “Ollie, you keep in touch with us. No more
visits by angry men.”

  “Daddy, if I tell you the truth on that, the look on your face is telling me you might make him disappear.”

  Her father smirked. “I’m still deciding this time around.” Even Rafe grinned now. “I suppose we’ll see you both on Saturday. Though if this charade is going to cause crazed exes to come out of the shadows, maybe it’s best to end it now.”

  Olive didn’t want anything to end. Even pretending they were engaged. It wasn’t hard to pretend anymore. “We’ll come, daddy. You can say what you will about us, but we’ll come.”

  He smirked and patted her hand. “You always were a dependable one, Ollie. We’ll see. I care little what anyone says, but I’ll be calling Hugh Abernathy to let him know my thoughts on his boy. That’s what I care about now. See y’all later?”

  They nodded. Olive blew a kiss before slipping behind the steering wheel. Rafe released a pent breath when he threaded his fingers with hers after they turned down the lane. She chuckled. “You thought he was going to shout at you, didn’t you?”

  “I thought you might have told them and he was coming to kill me, yes.”

  Olive smiled. “He was too livid over Tom. It didn’t come up.”

  Rafe sighed in relief and stared out the window before facing her. “It will though?”

  She met his eye; his grin had faded. “Yes, Rafe,” she said. “It will.”

  He pressed a kiss to her fingertips and nodded. The smooth touch of Rafe’s hand on hers was like a gentle river, luring her away from the monotony, propriety, and trivial cares of her life. There could be rapids ahead, but Rafe was a safety net holding her steady through the storm. She hadn’t confessed her heart to Beau—not that he deserved to know—but still she’d remained quiet. Olive didn’t account for her cousin’s opinion of her, and it was clear the rapids hiding around the corner might come from someone else. Her pulse ticked up like a racehorse rounding the bend, how would she and Rafe weather the storm of Bernadette Cutler?