by Emily Childs
August hesitates. “Fifteen hundred dollars?”
“For five appearances. You do the math.” I massage my forehead. “We need this, man. Mama needs this.”
“Rafe, you said Mama thinks this is legitimate. She’ll be crushed.”
“I know. Don’t guilt me, I got enough of that from Ollie.”
“At least she has some sense. How did you ever convince her to go along with this?”
“You know Bernadette. She’s persuasive.” August laughs because he knows exactly what I mean. Leaning back in my chair, I sigh. “Turns out, Olive cares about our mom about as much as you and me. She’s doing it for her.”
“I get it, and I can’t disagree this is good financially, but I still think you’re playing with fire.”
I knew he’d do this. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. You and Ollie have always been closer than anyone. Don’t be an idiot and do something stupid to mess with her.”
“I won’t. First Zac, now you.”
“We need to keep you in check, or you’d be running around like a chicken with its head cut off. And that’s on your best day.”
“How’s my niece?”
“Obvious subject change. Uh, she’s sleeping . . . finally. Seriously, man I’m exhausted, but half the reason is that I can’t stop looking at her. Lil and I just sit up rocking with her some nights.”
“You’re coming out, right? I’d like to meet her someday.”
August laughs. “We’ll do our best. It might be after Lily’s finals. Last semester and one of her toughest, but I need to see Mama and do something to help out.”
“August, I’ve got it under control. Just help Lily finish school and don’t fall asleep standing up. I know you’d be here if you could. At least now you can stop worrying over the money. I’ve already ordered the grab bars and bathroom equipment for when she comes to live here.”
“Alright.” Tiny cries whimper in the background. August coos to the baby. “Hey, Brin’s awake. I’ll call you tonight, but seriously, Rafe—be careful with Olive.”
“I’m not going to hurt her or anything.”
“I never said she was the only one I was worried about getting hurt. Talk to you later.”
“Yeah. Bye, Aug.”
No one is going to get hurt because deeper feelings aren’t involved. They can’t be.
I scan my closet trying to find the nicest shirt I can, and settle on the stiff dark blue one from August and Lily’s wedding. It’ll work, but matching a tie is something else entirely.
“Rafe?” Olive’s voice calls out from the kitchen.
I look up from my limited necktie selection, naked from the waist up, too focused on getting dressed to actually, well, to actually finish.
She’s at my door before I make another move. She’d been looking at her cell, but when she lifts her gaze her eyes bug out, as if I’m standing here buck naked. “Well, hello there. Thanks for making my night.”
I laugh. “What’s with you? Not like you haven’t seen me without a shirt. How many times have we been swimming?”
Olive straightens her shoulders. “Been awhile, sir. What a shame too.”
She might be gawking, but so am I. The woman pulls off the idea of a little black dress with perfection. Gathered fabric hugs her curves, making it a challenge not to reach out and put my hands on her hips. Olive isn’t that tall, but the black stilettos add length to her legs and I stare too long.
“You look good,” I manage to choke out.
She scans her figure. “Good? That’s all I get? Took me two hours to get these curls to stay in this weather.”
“Pardon me,” I say. “Your sexiness has taken my breath away, Miss Cutler.” I do my best to keep my tone light, but really, it’s getting hard to breathe.
“What’s the hold up? You want to risk being late?”
I hold up two ties. “What matches best? I can’t decide.”
Olive steps closer so our arms brush. I’m probably imagining it, but I think she draws in a quick breath, like she feels the same heat as me. But I’m the one who’s blurring the lines here. I can’t think that it’s both of us, or I’m doomed. Like August and Zac think.
Olive holds the ties against my shirt on the bed before shaking her head and grabbing a solid, royal blue tie. “This one.” She winks and tickles the scruff on my chin. “I like this look, by the way. Rugged and dashing.”
“Who knew being lazy and skipping a shave would be dashing.”
Olive grins and turns toward my dresser while I put on my shirt. She picks up an old picture taken years earlier. One of my favorite memories, the day Olive chose us over her cousin. We’re huddled in a big group at the beach, laughing.
“Zac is licking my ear,” she says.
I squint at the frame, slipping my coat over my shoulders, and laugh. True enough, seventeen-year-old Zac is poking his tongue out against Olive’s head.
Olive sighs. “But this is the same night Lily told August she’d marry him. I think he even used a piece of seaweed as a temporary ring. Now they’re parents.”
“It was a good night,” I say as I knot my tie. “You and Lil were the only girls who got in the water.”
“I remember your one friend—I still maintain she liked you—about dropped her jaw when we dove in clothes and all. She asked if I’d ruined a designer shirt. The girl could hardly believe I bought it at Target, like I came from a different planet.”
“Not a different planet, Ol. Just a different place.”
Olive’s face falls and I wish I could take the words back.
She’s quick to recover and smiles again. “Beau tried to get me in trouble for leaving. He should’ve gone to Mama, not Daddy. I thought Beau’s face was going to boil off when I came home and he was standing there with Daddy. Beau probably thought I’d get smacked or something, but all that was asked was if I’d behaved and had a good time.”
“Leave it to Mr. Cutler to put your cousin in his place without raising a hand of discipline.”
Olive touches the picture once more before facing me. “You ready?”
I hold out my arms, enjoying the way her eyes soak me up. “Final approval goes to you.”
Olive pats my chest, and adjusts the knot of my tie a little. “I approve.”
I wink and slowly slide one hand down the curve of her spine, then laugh when Olive shrieks after I swat her backside. She seems ready to rip me a new one, but I hold up a hand. “Butt privileges.”
She glares at me, but still holds my hand as we leave. “You’re a snake, Rafe.”
“No, I know how to negotiate the rules in my favor.”
“You keep your hands under control, or you’ll deal with my father, sir. I’m driving.”
I settle into the passenger seat of her silver BMW, feeling rather smug. “I don’t think Mr. Cutler will mind if it’s coming from me.”
“I think you overestimate his affection for you.”
“Not a chance, Ol.”
When we pull up the lane to the Big House, Olive smacks the steering wheel. “I forgot. I have a surprise, just for you.”
“I’m nervous.”
She laughs. “You’ll thank me. I thought you wouldn’t want to manage the lion’s den alone again. I invited Zac and of course he’s Zac, so he was able to round up a date.”
My eyes go wide, but there is his blue truck right there in the driveway. “Bernadette let that slide?”
“Oh, I just went to Daddy.”
“But Zac and I work together. He won’t say he’s anything other than what he is, you know that.”
“I know. Zac understands, so he’s here as a friend. You don’t need to bring up he’s your boss.”
“Ah, come on Ollie, don’t say he’s my boss. Especially not in front of him. It makes his head too big.” She laughs, but I take her hand. “Thank you. I didn’t think it would matter, but it’s a relief.”
I lace my fingers with her as we make our way inside. My th
umb rubs the ring on her finger and I feel like I need to pinch my own arm as a reminder this isn’t real. But when she looks at me, those honey eyes cut straight through my chest, and the line blurs. If I weren’t so bullheaded, I’d admit I’m falling for Olive. I’ve been falling for a long time.
But stubbornness is fickle, and I’m quick to bury the thought down.
At least for tonight.
Chapter 13
Olive
I can’t keep my snorty laugh in a second longer and cover my face with my napkin.
Sawyer goes on with his great-grandmother horror story. “I’m not joking. She hands me the glass of whiskey, teeth bobbing at the bottom. She just looks at me and says, ‘Whatcha looking at, boy? Pop ‘em back in.’”
Rafe laughs and leans back in his chair. He drapes his arm over mine and it’s as if we sit this close all the time. Zac and Krista, a girl who brought her car into his shop three days before, sit on the other side. If I didn’t know Rafe and Zac before I’d never guess they spend their days up to their elbows in grease with them all polished in suits.
When I laugh too loudly, my mother shoots me a sharp look. I don’t think she’s pleased I extended the invitation to Dot, Zac, and their plus-ones. It isn’t that they’re here, more that I ruffled her already set plans and four new settings needed to be added last minute. They all survived, and this dinner was already more enjoyable than the last.
Mama’s glares are nothing to the murderous exchanges from Beau. I don’t care for the woman on my cousin’s arm, and honestly, can’t remember her name. She’s primped and pampered, and if she lifts her nose much higher, I’ll see her brain. The woman dared to complain about not having sugar-free pie. Girl, please.
I certainly don’t trust the way Beau keeps whispering in his date’s ear. And sure enough, moments later, Miss Sugar Free turns in her chair and says to me, “Olive, Beau tells me you plan to be a public schoolteacher.”
Everyone goes quiet. Even Dot.
Curse you woman.
I suspect the purpose of her comment is to draw the attention of snobbish Mrs. Hamblin from the neighboring property, and if so, she’s successful.
“Is that true, Miss Cutler?” Mrs. Hamblin asks.
Beau smiles viciously.
I put on my 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 Hamblin’s brow furrows. I’m accustomed to people disapproving of my chosen profession, but it’s annoying all the same.
“I can’t understand what would drive anyone to spend their days counting and coloring shapes,” Rosita crows. The layers of skin beneath her chin warble 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 drops from the back of my chair and he curls his palm over mine, squeezing tightly. Having him here, supporting me, unleashes the spitfire my Mama would, doubtless, rather do without tonight.
“Forgive me, ma’am,” I say, through a forced smile. “In my experience some of those little kids have more manners than the more distinguished adults I’ve met.”
Rosita seems at a loss for words or opinion. Probably a first.
“I wonder, Miss Olive,” Mr. Hamblin joins in. “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 snorts and mutters so only our side of the table can hear, “Yeah, all those dirty six-year-olds strike fear into my heart.”
I bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing.
“What do you think, son?” Hamblin asks Rafe when I don’t answer.
Now I squeeze his hand.
“I agree there is a shortage of good teachers, sir,” he says. “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 grins and Sawyer raises his glass in agreement. Dot winks at me from across the table.
“Rafe knows how to appease his woman,” Beau says. “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 back those pants you gave up after the wedding, Rafe?”
Mr. Hamblin laughs. “Solid advice, son. 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.”
I think my brains must be steaming out each ear. What a duo of Neanderthals in expensive suits. Rafe smiles, it isn’t kind. Sawyer, Zac, and Dot watch on as if waiting for a classic showdown.
“I don’t plan to take them back, Beau,” he says, voice tight. He glances at me for half a breath. “You should try it some time, a woman who thinks for herself. In my opinion, loving a woman like that takes a real man.”
Beau glares at Rafe, Ms. Hamblin, to my surprise smiles. Can’t say the same for her husband, of course.
But who cares? Rafe said the word love, and it’s making my heart pound like it wants to break free. My fingers tremble as I place one palm on the side of Rafe’s face. It’s a small thing to close such a narrow space between us. It feels like a gigantic moment.
I draw my mouth to his. I kiss him. In front of everyone.
Rafe tenses for a heartbeat, then cups the back of my neck and kisses me back. It’s slow, chaste, the sort of kiss that breaks the heart and warms the soul all at once.
With a touch of reluctance I remember this is the dinner table and pull back. I’m not looking anywhere but at Rafe. He doesn’t blink. And I think I could live with his thumb gently caressing my cheek and die happy.
I grin through the heat in my face and glance at the Hamblins. “Those things he says, that’s why I keep this guy around, sir. I pay well for his compliments.”
They laugh and the tension disappears. I shoot Beau a final dagger-gaze. He guzzles his wine like there’s a shortage and doesn’t say a word to me. I wince when Dot kicks my shin and mimics inappropriate things without anyone else noticing. Sawyer seems thoroughly entertained.
“It’s such stuffy talk,” Krista mutters to Zac.
“I agree and that’s why we keep Olive around, she keeps things interesting.” Zac smiles beneath his scruffy face and winks at me.
Krista isn’t wrong. The table is stuffy. The same stuffy conversation I’ve always known.
But bearable. With Rafe still holding my hand, I tolerate a few more passive remarks about my career path, endure business talk. Rafe grins at me with meaning, like I have some explaining to do about that move I pulled.
I don’t have an explanation. I kissed Rafe because the man deserved to be kissed.
I laugh and wave goodbye to Zac and Krista. He seemed keen to get on their way after she whispered something in his ear. “First Dot and Sawyer, now Zac and Krista.”
Rafe rolls his eyes. “Dot and Sawyer left before dessert finished.”
“Dot’s going to burst if he doesn’t propose soon.”
“I like Sawyer, and I like Dot more around him.”
“I’ll tell you a secret,” I whisper. “I like her better with him too. Not one snide comment about my clothing the entire time he’s been in town.”
Somehow we escaped the constant barrage of questions and found our way outside. By instinct, we make our way to the creek by the oak trees. The sound of water bubbling over cobblestones was a comfort whenever I needed to clear my head as a girl, and I’m quick to slip off my high heels.
“What are you doing?” Rafe asks, but he’s grinning. Did he really expect I wouldn’t get in the water?
“You coming in?”
He glances down at his suit pants. “I don’t think so.”
I snort. “You big baby.”
&n
bsp; Rafe glares at me. I must’ve wounded his pride because he starts taking off his shoes and socks. He rolls up his pants a little, but when he steps into the water, they get wet anyway.
“It’s freezing,” he gasps against the shock.
“You have gotten weak, Rafe Whitfield.”
“It took me three years to get you into this water, you can give me a few minutes.”
“I was afraid of snakes,” I say. “Because you and August insisted on telling me gator-eating snakes slithered out of the sand when disturbed too much. Really, it’s your fault.”
He wades next to me and stares up at the velvet sky. “We made it through another one.”
“Two down, three to go.”
I glance his way and my heart skips. Rafe’s watching me as if he’s memorizing everything. I take note the way his jaw pulses, how broad his body is. When had the skinny boy from the Big House turned into such a man? I don’t know, but then, I always noticed Rafe.
He takes a step closer, clearing his throat, voice rough. “Ollie, why did you kiss me tonight?”
I grin to hide how nervous I am. “I thought I had kissing privileges.”
“Were you kissing me for show?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “What if I told you I didn’t?”
Rafe is close enough to touch now, close enough to whisper. “Then I’d ask you again, why’d you kiss me?”
Before I think too much on it, I reach for him, tracing my fingers along his arm. He follows my lead and rests a hand on the small of my back.
I fiddle with his tie, lean into him, draw my open palm across his chest. “I kissed you because of what you said. You weren’t acting when you said those things about teaching, about me.” Rafe tightens his hold around my waist. My lips part. “I kissed you, Rafe, because I wanted to kiss you.”
My skin is hot and tight as he traps one side of my face with his hand; my knees buckle when his lips brush mine. A touch there and gone.
“What are we doing, Olive?”
“I don’t know.” I can hardly talk, can hardly focus on anything but his hands on me, his mouth so near, so far from mine.
“We should probably stop,” he says against my skin.
