Don't Marry the Mechanic: A Sweet Romance (The Debutante Rules Book 1)

by Emily Childs

  “I warned you not to climb the tree.”

  “Come on,” Olive chuckles. “If you told me I couldn’t do something, I always did it to prove you wrong. I just didn’t imagine getting stuck twenty feet up in a tree.”

  I flick my gaze to the huge oak. “August told me to leave you. To be fair it was during his I-hate-girls phase.”

  “You didn’t though,” Olive whispers, pulling me to a stop, and wrapping her arms around my waist.

  “I’m no hero, Ollie. I was scared your daddy would blame us, that’s why I climbed after you.”

  “Just take the hero title. It wasn’t just fear of daddy that had you climbing up to get me down. Admit it—you liked me even back then.”

  I laugh and kiss her forehead. “Maybe a little. I didn’t think you’d panic at the finish line and shove me off the last branch.”

  “I thought I was falling, and reached for you. I didn’t shove you.”

  “Your daddy brought me the biggest milkshake that night though,” I say. “I told mama I wanted to get more stitches if Mr. Cutler brought ice cream.”

  “Lucky you. I got sent to bed without dinner that night. I remember daddy lecturing me about putting you in a position where you got hurt. I was supposed to do something nice for you as an apology. I’m not sure I ever did.”

  I trap her face in my palms, her eyes bright and wanting. “Oh, I’d say you’ve made up for it by now, Ol.”

  She smiles and kisses me. “Well, let’s get through our fake shower, shall we?”

  We drift to the guests, chatting about nothing. It’s boring and entertaining. Dot is on a mission to despise romance, but keeps telling us how good we look together. Zac flirts shamelessly with Jace who doesn’t fall for it, even calls him out. That makes Zac try harder until it’s like my best friend and newly discovered cousin have their own inside joke on who can hit on the other better.

  I like being here. For once a party isn’t unbearable with all these people. When I glance at the old dirt drive where I met the school bus every day, I laugh and whisper close to Olive’s ear. “Ollie, I just remembered we’re engaged. So technically we haven’t been lying.”

  “What are you talking about? Rafe Whitfield,” she hisses, “that better not be your idea of a proposal.”

  “No. Remember when you chased me and August to the bus stop when we went to school for the first time?”

  “Barely. I was so little. I remember crying since I couldn’t go with you.”

  I try to hold in my laugh. “You were screaming that we couldn’t go, throwing a major fit, one of your biggest.”

  She pinches her lips. “Is there a point in this somewhere?”

  I laugh now, and kiss her forehead. “Well, during this epic hissy fit, you demanded I stay home and play. I was pretending to be a big kid and told you to stop your bawling because I was going to marry you, anyway, so we’d be together all the time. Of course, I’m pretty sure I thought getting married meant playing after school. Still, I proposed in a very unromantic way—so we’re engaged.”

  Olive chokes as she takes a drink of her water, trying to keep from snorting it out, I guess. “Well, what do you know?” She winks. “Rafe, I have a confession, I’m afraid we’ve both been unfaithful many times.”

  “I’ll forgive you this once.”

  “Mr. Whitney?”

  We both turn and see wiry man swirling his sweet tea. He seems a little exasperated and I have a feeling he’s been calling me for a minute.

  “Forgive him, Mr. Tibbolt,” Olive says with a soft laugh. “Rafe doesn’t answer to that name, honestly. It’s actually a funny story. He uses Whitfield. Just a slip since he’s part of the Whitney family.”

  I’m stunned. In the best way. I don’t know how she’s going to spin this, but I’m keen to watch her try. More so when Mr. Tibbolt furrows a brow and seems offended.

  “And tell me how your Mama forgot his name?”

  Olive chuckles. “Because his daddy’s side uses Whitney, but Rafe relates more to the Whitfield side. No sense using a man’s name he didn’t know. Mama simply forgot at the first announcement, and well, here we are, one big snowball of names.”

  I could kiss her, good and hard, right here in the center of the room. I could do more than kiss her. Olive Cutler saying my name to these people, owning me as hers. I knew it would feel good, but not this good.

  “Why don’t you use your daddy’s name?” Tibbolt asks like it’s his business. I don’t even care.

  “My parents separated before I was born, sir,” I tell him. “He wasn’t part of my life.”

  Tibbolt studies me, then after a moment, simply shrugs. “Odd mistake, but I can’t fault you for using the name you know. Seems you still have connections with the Whitney name if you work with them.”

  I gesture to Jace where she’s talking with Dot. “I have some connections that are still friendly and family oriented. She’s my cousin from the Whitney side. The mistake has been bothering, Olive, sorry for confusing the situation.”

  “It is confusing,” Tibbolt says, “but I’m following. Don’t get the name wrong on the wedding, Miss Cutler.”

  Olive grins. “Not a chance, sir.”

  Mr. Tibbolt winks and leaves us after droning on about a business idea he’s been having. I suppose that is why he was so anxious to speak with me, but when he leaves, I have no real idea what he said at all.

  I draw Olive close. “That was bold.”

  “I’m tired of hearing you called someone you aren’t,” Olive says a little like a lament. “Whitney isn’t the name I love, Rafe. And frankly, I’m tired of lying. I feel like sludge is running through my system.”

  “Still, that was probably the sexiest thing you’ve done so far.”

  “I assume that’s a compliment, but if that’s the sexiest thing I’ve done, then I need to work on my game.”

  I’m about to respond, but I stop, shoulders stiffening. Beau glares at me, holding that stupid unlit cigar, but he faces Olive when he reaches us.

  “Ollie, you’re looking beautiful as always.”

  “Beau, what do you want?” she snaps.

  His face softens. “To apologize.” The words sound like they stick to his tongue. “To you both. I shouldn’t have come to your house, Whitfield, and Ollie, I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in your business. I apologize.”

  I don’t trust Beau. Not at all. But Olive grins like she’s relieved.

  She rests a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Beau. That means a lot.”

  “I also came to tell you, Aunt Bernie was looking for you—to talk, or something.”

  Olive draws in a sharp breath. I want to ask her what she’s thinking, but not in front of Beau. She squeezes my hand and says, “I’ll be back in a little while.”

  Being alone with Beau is the last thing I want to do.

  He faces me, smugly. “If you’re interested, Dawson was out near the creek. Figured you’d feel more comfortable with him.”

  I would feel more comfortable with Zac. I don’t thank Beau, and instead offer a curt nod before Beau disappears into the crowd.

  At the creek, I don’t see Zac, and realize too late that I’ve walked into one of Beau’s traps.

  “Dalia?” I say. She’s looking at me like she’s been waiting. I take a step closer. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Rafe.” She tilts her head, the strawberry coloring in her blonde hair shining in the light as she grins. A grin that says she’s won something. “I think we need to talk.”

  Chapter 25

  Olive

  I take a deep breath before easing the study door open. My mother is busying herself around a tea cart. I knock to catch her attention. “Mama, Beau said you wanted to talk with me.”

  She pauses and brushes one of her curls out of her eyes. “Pardon? Oh, yes. I told you yesterday we’d talk, but I’m just gathering drinks now, so.”

  “We need to talk.” My voice quivers, but I lift my chin. I’m doing this.<
br />
  “Is now the best time?”

  “There won’t be a good time for you to hear me, and you know it.”

  My mother’s eyes turn to ice. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  We’re different. I can accept we won’t see eye to eye, but I’m not going to lie about this. No matter what she thinks, I’m going to tell my mother I’m in love with Rafe Whitfield. The rest will be up to her, I suppose.

  I pad across the room, voice low. “I think you know what I want to say, but you don’t want to hear it.”

  “That’s ridiculous, how would I know what you’re meaning to say before you’ve said it?”

  “I love Rafe, Mama.” I say in a rush. “I haven’t been pretending. I kiss him because I want to kiss him. Because I love him. But I also suspect you’ve known about my feelings for Rafe for a long time.”

  “Childhood crushes are not feelings,” she insists. “You’re caught up in this, that’s all.”

  I shake my head. “No, Mama. I’m not caught up in anything. I don’t want Rafe Whitney. I want Rafe Whitfield, a mechanic, the son of a maid. The man who takes me as I am no matter what. I love him, and I plan to be with him.”

  My mother crosses her arms over her chest. “Have you put any thought into how your choices affect this family? What would people say knowing we openly deceived them?”

  “Mom,” I say, ignoring the surprise in my mother’s face at being addressed so informally. “Who’s looking? And if they are, no one has any business in our lives, anyway.”

  “He’s a fine young man, Olive,” she admits. “Kind, respectful, but—”

  “He’s not suited for me, right?”

  “A mother wants the best for her child.” She looks to the carpet. There isn’t any fervor in her voice.

  “Then you want me with Rafe. He loves me, Mama. He treats me like a queen, he’s been my truest friend since we were kids.”

  “You don’t understand,” she whispers. “It’s not Rafe I don’t want for you, it’s what comes from others. What they’ll say to you, how it won’t be easy for you both. You can’t understand the worry unless you’re a mother, Olive.”

  “Mama.” I lean against the wall next to the window. “I don’t care about the judgment, I don’t. You love Daddy, I see it when you look at him, that’s how I feel about Rafe.”

  “What would you have me say, Ollie? What do you want from me?”

  “Acceptance,” I say, my voice breaking. “Accept me as a teacher in public school, accept me with Rafe. That’s what I want—your acceptance. But I’m going to love him even without it.”

  Is Bernadette Cutler crying?

  “You will always be my girl, Olive Jane,” she whispers. “No matter what.”

  Not the words directly, but I understand what she means. It’s a beautiful moment, and I feel like my heart might burst through my ribs any second. “Thank you, Mama.”

  “Is he planning on . . . asking you to marry him?”

  I grin, and glance out the window. “I hope so.”

  She sniffs. “Well, I expect him to ask our permission, Olive.”

  I don’t say anything. My eyes are locked on the creek where a flash of strawberry blonde is standing too close to Rafe for my liking.

  “Olive? It’s what I expect,” Mama presses.

  “Yes, of course. Will you excuse me? I appreciate you hearing me.” I hug her before she can protest about wrinkles or something ridiculous. “I’ll be back.”

  “Olive,” she calls out. “I expect you to speak with your father!”

  Daddy will need to wait. My stomach is in knots as I scurry down the hallway.

  Dalia is speaking to Rafe, her hands crawling over his arms. Girl—this is my house, and he most certainly is my man. Her slithering comeback is stopping now.

  Chapter 26

  Rafe

  I start to turn away, but Dalia grabs my wrist.

  “Wait,” she says. “I understand. I do, Rafe.”

  “Understand what, Dalia? What are you even doing here?”

  “I know about the engagement, and I understand why you did it.” She grins, and tries to curl her arm around my neck. I pull away, but she’s unbothered. “I thought for a moment you were serious about being with Olive, but I understand, now.”

  “Stop,” I snap. “I am with Olive. Accept it, Dalia.”

  That brings her pause. Her eyes narrow. “Beau assured me it wasn’t real, that you were doing it to get money for Millie.”

  “Beau told you?” I clench my fists. “Beau Cutler hates me! Do you honestly think he’d tell you the truth, or that he likes the idea of his cousin with me?”

  Dalia catches my hand. “Mr. Cutler knows I’m here too.”

  “What?”

  She smirks. “He waved me in, Rafe. Why would he do that if you’re dating his girl?”

  “He’s friendly.”

  “But doesn’t know you’re here thinking this is real? Does he know?”

  I should lie to get her to go away. She doesn’t need to know that Olive hasn’t exactly discussed us with her parents, but I hesitate long enough for her to get clued in.

  Dalia shakes her head. “Funny, if you’re together why hasn’t perfect Miss Olive mentioned a word of it to her folks.”

  “She will,” I say, but feel a little pathetic the way it comes out.

  Dalia rolls her eyes. “Why can’t you see this is a fantasy, Rafe? Look around. You think she’ll give all this up? Be honest with yourself. She cares for you, no doubt, but you and me, we grew up around her type of people. When push comes to shove, they always pick their way of life. You know that.”

  “No, I don’t,” I say. “You don’t know Olive, and you don’t know me. Not anymore.”

  “You’re going to get hurt.”

  “Then that’s my choice to make,” I insist. Everything is hot, I feel an ache spreading behind my eyes. She’s hitting every concern I’ve worked to erase, and drawing them back to the surface. Why hasn’t Olive told her parents? Why would Mr. Cutler want Dalia here if he thought his daughter wanted me?

  I shake my head. It’s probably something simple, like he was distracted. I’m losing my head. Beau, Dalia—all of them—they’re getting under my skin and I need to stop it.

  “You really think this will work? After all those times you told me you’d never fit into a life like this?” Dalia asks, glancing around the gardens. I don’t answer. She grins. “I’ll go, Rafe, but only if you admit something to me. Put me at ease that you’re sincere and haven’t lost all logic.”

  “What’s that?”

  She kisses me. Full on accosts my mouth. I stumble, and pull back, heat flushing through my face. Dalia is still standing against me, her voice a whisper. “Admit you don’t think you’re the best thing for Olive.”

  I want her to leave, I’m teetering on the edge of losing my temper. I’ll say just about anything, even old truths I admitted long before. Even if I don’t agree now. “I might not be the best choice for a Cutler, but that—”

  “Do you mean it?” she interrupts.

  I scowl. “Everyone thinks it, but—”

  Dalia cuts me off and runs her hands across my chest. “Glad you heard that for yourself, Olive. I’d hate for you to keep stringing him along.”

  My stomach lumps like a stack of bricks when I turn around. Olive smiles. It’s not kind. A little mad and wild and broken. She turns on her heel.

  “Ollie!” I go after her, but stop when she spins around her hand out, blocking me.

  “You know, this is the second engagement party where a fiancé has cheated on me.”

  “I didn’t kiss her, Olive. She kissed me.”

  Olive is stiff. That trembling voice cuts through me like knives. It’s torture. I wish she’d yell, or scream, or cry. Anything but this calm before the storm. This is when Olive Cutler is most frightening.

  “I didn’t see you putting up much of a fight,” she says. “Two parties, Rafe, where a man told me he l
oved me yet I find him with another woman. At least Tom thought I was worth being with, he just thought Eloise was too. You, though, I suppose you never planned this out for the long term.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Not good enough. Everyone knows it. Tell me when I misheard.”

  “I wasn’t finished talking.” I’m grappling, but it’s true. She didn’t hear me out. Dalia didn’t hear the end where I wanted to make it clear I planned to forget what I once thought, or what others thought now. But I don’t go on because Olive is backing away again. Like I’m a hot stove that’s just burned her.

  “My mistake,” she says, “for believing all that talk about giving me your name when it was all empty words. Everyone knows you’re not the best thing for me, huh? Funny, I must’ve missed the memo.”

  “Olive, that’s not what I’m saying,” I say, desperate for her to look at me, but she’s walking away again.

  “I heard from your own mouth you weren’t the best choice for a Cutler. I’m tired of everyone thinking they know what’s best for me, or putting me on this pedestal above the world. I’m a woman, Rafe. I’m not a goddess, I’m not a princess. I’m a woman who loves a man! That’s all. I simply thought he was willing to face all this together, not listen to the noise.”

  “I am.” I reach for her hand, but she pulls back.

  “No, you’re not,” she says. “You say a lot of pretty words, but all this time you’ve still believed we weren’t suited. How long were you going to carry on before you let me down? Or am I doomed to know you will never see me as your equal? Will the pressure be too much when real life hits?”

  The back of my neck boils when Olive turns and stomps toward the driveway. I hurry after her. “That’s not what I meant, but you’re not listening. Like always you’re walking away when you don’t want to hear the other side.”

  Olive shoves her palm against my chest. “I have always listened to you. I’ve been there, but you, you always saw me as some stupid, rich girl. Today there’s nothing more to hear. I was the fool who believed you’d started valuing yourself. There are no levels between us, Rafe. You’re not better than me, and I’m not better than you. I thought we were on the same page.”