by Emily Childs
“Now, you’re going a little off the rails, sweetie,” Rafe says with a smile. “What Ollie means is the kids cut out hearts. I work with mechanics and cars all day. Do you think it’s realistic I’d think of making glitter hearts?”
The guests in the room, including more interested men, laughed.
I pat his cheek. “Don’t worry, we all know you’re manly.” I mouth glitter to the room. “It’s all in the details, ladies.”
“Glitter hearts about cover it,” Rafe interjects. “Then she cried until her nose ran like a river, and she said yes.” He chugs back his entire flute of champagne.
“My nose did not run.”
Rafe squeezes my shoulders tightly. I want to pinch him again, but the thought is overshadowed by a request from Dot.
“Give us a kiss, you two!” she cries.
I’m going to murder her.
My smile fades. I’d enjoyed embellishing, but this ruse didn’t include kissing Rafe Whitfield. Such a thing will stir up too many feelings I’ve fought tirelessly to bury.
“Kiss him,” Dot shouts again.
Then Rafe meets my eyes, and I’m lost; the way I am lost to him again and again.
Chapter 6
Rafe
Olive shifts at my side, and I’m only looking at her. Trying to read her expression. Are we going to go there? Pressure builds in the room as more taunts to press my mouth to Olive Cutler’s threatens to burst the walls. To make it more tempting, of course, she’s wearing that perfume that smells like magnolias.
My pulse is too fast. My skin too tight. Olive’s cheeks are rosy, and her honey eyes meet mine with a touch of apprehension. It’s a kiss. With a friend. Nothing more.
Mr. and Mrs. Cutler are watching—but neither step in to change the minds of their guests. Beau is practically set to murder me. His fury makes this a little more appealing, honestly. Riling Beau Cutler is one of the little joys in life.
I face Olive who’s frozen, maybe in shock, can’t be sure. She blinks when I rest one hand to the side of her face. She doesn’t pull back, and if I didn’t know better, it feels like she leans into my touch. But that can’t be right. This is Ollie!
Ollie. I feel the rush of heat pool in the pit of my stomach.
Without much more overthinking, I erase the spaces between us and kiss her.
We’re both stiff at first. In another breath, my mouth moves with hers. I can’t stop myself and reach one arm around her waist, tugging her against my body. Her hands rest on my biceps, and when our lips part, I’m tempted to sneak a taste of her. That isn’t what friends do, it isn’t how a pretend relationship goes.
My mind is spinning and the crowd disappears, until I reluctantly pull back. Her eyes dart between mine. The rosy tint to her cheeks deepens, and if she doesn’t look away, I’m going to kiss her again.
At least Olive has her wits, and tilts her face away a moment later.
My hands slide off her curves and I clear my throat. Probably for the hundredth time. Whatever we did just now satisfies the crowd since they’re clapping, and I force a smile as though nothing out of the ordinary happened.
The way my skin is a blazing inferno with the remnants of Olive’s kiss, the way my chest is so tight I can’t catch a deep breath, nothing about this moment is ordinary.
This is trouble. Taking me places where I won’t recover if I step in too far.
***
“Have you flipped your ever-loving mind, Rafe?”
“What was I supposed to do, Zac?” I ask, sliding out from the old Chevy. The owner is putting more money into the car than it’s worth, but I don’t care so long as I’m paid.
“Say no, idiot,” Zac Dawson says, kicking at my 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.”
I sigh, wipe my hands, and take a long drink of water. “She wasn’t too happy at first, but she agreed because of my mom.”
Zac rubs his scruffy chin. I’ve worked in the shop for four years now, but Zac only took it over from his uncle eighteen months ago. We’ve been friends since high school, and he’s one of the few people who can be trusted with the truth without blabbing it up and down the coast. Zac is rough around the edges, but that’s why we get along so well. Zac is made from blue-collar, tell-it-straight southern blood.
“That’s decent of her,” he says, “but what about you? Didn’t you have some stupid crush on her back in the day?”
“No.”
Zac smirks. “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.” I signal to my greasy jumpsuit. “I’m not exactly the type Olive Cutler will settle down with.”
Zac rolls 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 the whole thing with Dalia fell out. 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,” he says. “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.”
“Shut up. It’s some dinner party next week.”
“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 widen. “Do go on. Why were you putting your dirty mouth on Olive Cutler?”
Zac has no room to talk about moving through women. He only needs to take a shower, trim his beard, and Zac can catch a date. At least he has a bit of gentleman inside and doesn’t always take everyone home.
“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 harrumphs and sits on the hood of an old pickup. “Sucks, you know. Lily having the baby then August losing his hours. Probably stressful. I told him he could have a job here.”
“Yeah, but Lily is in school. They’re doing fine, and I’m sure it’ll pick up for him, but now you see how the extra money would take some pressure off August too. He’s feeling guilty not being here.”
“I get it, man,” Zac says. “You’ve just always been . . . I don’t know, different with Olive. 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.”
I sit back onto the creeper and slide beneath the car again. “I’ll tell him.”
He isn’t wrong. I have always been different with Olive. I went to public school, she went to the private academy near the beach. She lives in a world of financial expectations and requirements; I live paycheck to paycheck. Yet, there has always been something different with Olive Cutler. She has a feisty spirit, and I’ve seen it crushed time and again by those around her. When Mr. Till brushed aside Olive’s teaching, I should’ve stood up for her more. Should’ve been someone who doesn’t think she’s nothing but a woman skilled at swiping credit cards.
Part of me thought she’d break long ago. I have no doubt if she would’ve married Tom, he would have dulled the flame inside her eyes. Sometimes, I wish I could s
et her free from the crushing pressure to meet expectations. It’s a secret, desperate need.
Olive is my forbidden fruit.
Zac’s right, and I’ll never admit it to him, but I’ve hid feelings for years. Once a childhood friend, somewhere along the way, Olive became a woman and I wanted her in a new way. She’d blossomed into something more than the tagalong, and sooner than I liked.
I smile at the memory of catching handsy Fin Masters trying to get to second base with her by the creek. Olive tore me up and down, calling me a bear and a jerk and probably curse words she misused.
I thought I’d gotten over the stupid fantasy when she agreed to marry Tom. That night I’d gotten sloppy drunk and almost took Dalia back.
Good thing I called August instead.
My brother isn’t a fool and knows Olive will always have a soft spot in my heart. He’s known she has been since we were kids. That’s probably why I haven’t called August yet. He’ll see through my protests that it’s not real in the slightest. He’ll tell me I’m playing with fire.
I tweak the wrench harder as frustration boils my blood. I can keep brushing off the kiss with Olive as nothing, but it doesn’t change the truth that I’ve not stopped thinking about it.
This is wrong.
I shouldn’t be thinking these things about her, shouldn’t be wishing I kept the kiss going longer.
But here I am. Doing just that.
Olive
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.” I’ve taken lessons since I turned five, now at nearly twelve, I’m proficient enough I enjoy playing.
“Go on then. Dinner is at six tonight. I expect your hands to be clean, Olive Jane. No more digging in the creek.”
I nod, but promise nothing. After Rafe and Auggie pointed out the beautiful snail shells in the sludge, collecting as many as possible is my new life’s work. Darting across the back lawn, I spin around the great oak tree a few times, pretending that the unfamiliar silver Porsche in the driveway isn’t unsettling. The man in the suit has been inside the house for a few hours now. Seems strange since Daddy is in Charlotte this week. What would such a man want with Millie Whitfield?
“Oh, hey there bug-brain,” I giggle when I nearly crash into Rafe’s backside. He’s sitting on the bank letting his feet drag in the cold water. He doesn’t look around. “Where’s Auggie?”
“Went for a bike ride,” Rafe mumbles. His voice is still changing. Sometimes it’s high, sometimes it’s deep, and I tease him at every opportunity.
Today, though, from the sound of it, I doubt teasing would be welcome. “You didn’t go?”
“Does it look like I went?”
I furrow my brow. “Don’t throw a fit. I was just asking.”
“Sorry, Ol.”
I nudge his shoulder and without taking off my sandals, I step into the creek. Mama will be angry when the treads of my shoes are caked in mud, but who cares, really? “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“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 stiffens, his soft blue eyes darken. “Can we talk about something else? It’s hard to explain, okay?”
I want to demand answers, but in the years we’ve been friends, I’ve never seen his face hollow like this. Tugging up my leggings, I smile at him like a challenge. “Want to dig for shells?”
It takes a minute, but slowly, a grin spreads over his face. “You and your shells. Sure, princess, let’s see what we can find.”
For two hours, I dig in the mud, then massacre him in a water fight. At least he’s laughing. Being late to dinner is unpardonable at the Big House, but coming inside covered in slime, well, I’m sent to bed with a sore bum.
Making the walk of shame up the stairs to my bedroom, I see Millie changing the sheets in the guest bedroom.
“Hey Millie,” I say.
Rafe’s mama faces me, and laughs right away, knowing I’ve been with her boy, no doubt. She tries to hide it with her smile, but I see her eyes. They’re red and puffy.
She’s been crying.
Someone made her cry, and I have a feeling Mr. Silver Porsche had something to do with it.
No one makes Millie cry. Not on my watch.
Chapter 7
Olive
“Why do people think it’s A-okay to step out?” Laney snaps.
I pause from applying lip gloss. “Tell me about it, girl. I just thought I’d give you a call since I know you two are arranging plane tickets for a big shebang that is absolutely not happening.”
Laney and her husband, Bastien, are my one set of friends out of state who are set to fly in next month for the wedding. We met last year when Daddy partnered with their consulting firm to grow his empire. I’d gone to the initial meeting as a representative, even Rafe had come on Daddy’s errand. I certainly hadn’t expected to walk away from business negotiations with new friends. But I’d gone to their wedding, and they were coming to mine.
Well, not anymore.
“It just riles me up,” Laney says. “You know the same thing happened to Bastien with his ex-fiancée.”
“I didn’t know he was engaged before you.”
“Yep,” she says. “Can’t say I’m not glad that whole thing didn’t work out, obviously.”
I chuckle. “Obviously.”
“Well, I’m sorry all the same. How did you tell the guests?”
I bite my bottom lip. She won’t judge me. In fact, Laney told me once, she could see I had feelings for Rafe. Even told me to act on them. “Actually, I’m still engaged.”
“Ollie,” she says. “You deserve—”
“No, not with Tom.” I close my eyes and spill the entire sneaky plot. I expected her to be stunned silent, maybe confused. But she laughs.
“You and Rafe? Pretending to be engaged? Oh, girl, I’m not canceling my plans. We’re still coming to a wedding.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, don’t hold your breath.”
“I won’t. But I’m keeping my plane ticket open.”
“You’re dreaming, but do as you please, I suppose.”
“Seriously, though. Are you okay?”
I smile softly. “Yes. I will be.”
“You will. If you ever need to vent and scream, then you’ll call, right?”
“Always. Probably at two in the morning or some terribly rude hour.”
“Good,” she says. “We’re still on for September?”
“New York? Girl, please. Nothing is keeping me from that trip.” Then my stomach cramps. “Oh, but it was for couples.”
“I can tell you this now that Tom’s gone,” Laney says. “Bastien’s going to be thrilled Rafe is coming—”
“He’s not—”
“Deny all you want, but even if you came alone, Bastien will be happier than trying to understand Tom.”
I snort. “Y’all didn’t like him much, huh?”
She hesitates. “Let’s just say we think you deserved more.”
“And that is why I love you. Tell that handsome husband of yours hi for me! The honeymoon still in full force?”
“Two months in, yes, I can say I’m still in love with the man.”
We laugh a little more, and Laney tells me a few funny stories from their recent honeymoon. After promises to keep her updated on my fake fiancé, we hang up and I feel a little better. It’s good to be honest with at least some people.
I adjust my polka-dot blouse, so one sleeve brushes off my shoulder. Flattering to my neck, but it shows a bit of my middle. I enjoy barbecue ribs, let’s get that out there, but I feel sexy and I want to feel sexy. In case another toe-curling moment happened with my stand-in fiancé.
I doubt Rafe and I will kiss ag
ain, but I’d like to be prepared.
A knock comes to my front door. I’m not expecting anyone, but hurry to answer.
In the hallway Dot grins, her burgundy lips bold against her pale face. “Wow, nice shirt.”
I inspect my outfit once more. It suits my white cutoff pants, and the ruffled sleeves are sweet, I think. “Like it?”
“I’ve always admired how you don’t care what people think, Ollie.”
“I’ve always admired your backhanded compliments.”
Dot giggles. “No, it’s cute. Didn’t mean it to be backhanded. Just racy with all that shoulder. Doesn’t seem like you. Seems like me, is all.”
Dot makes herself at home, plopping onto my couch while I scrounge up some sweet teas.
“So, you’re going to ask Rafe to dinner tomorrow night, right?” she asks. “Ollie, you promised.”
“It’s just strange, Dot,” I say. “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.”
“We are. I suppose we haven’t talked quite as much since I got engaged. It’s no secret Tom 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 pokes me in the belly. “I saw that kiss, Ollie.”
“Would you stop,” I beg, but I’m grinning. “The only reason any kissing was even done was because of your big mouth.”
“I’m still waiting for my thank you.”
I roll my eyes.
“Oh, calm down,” she says. “Why not have a little fun before it’s over?”
“What do you mean?”
Dot offers 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?” My tone comes out too sharply.
Dot’s eyes widen. “Well, one, you’re not suited for each other. Two, your mama would never allow it.”
