Yours to Keep (Man of the Year)

by Lauren Layne

  “Yup.” She took a gulp of wine. “He says 99.9 percent of those kids won’t need to know how to wield a scalpel or how to define mitosis. And of course, he’s right, but what about that 0.1 percent that wants to be a doctor, or researcher, or cure freaking cancer?”

  “Principal Mullins sounds like a shortsighted dunce,” Carter said.

  She clinked her glass against his. “I’m liking you more and more. Maybe.”

  He smiled. Not his usual megawatt smile, but a quieter, private smile, just for her. “I like you, too. Maybe.”

  Olive’s stupid heart could handle the smile, but combined with the I like you, it left her distinctly . . . something.

  “C’mon,” he said, grabbing her glass out of her hand, and moving toward the kitchen. “I think I’ve had just enough wine to start bossing you around on this invitation-mailing task.”

  “Oh! Right.” Olive jumped to her feet, glad for the reminder. She’d do well to remember that Carter Ramsey’s presence in her life was purposeful, and very, very temporary.

  Chapter Ten

  Friday, August 14

  There were two coffee shops in town.

  One was a year and a half old and had a fireplace, comfy seating, a variety of carefully selected roasts from around the world, and seasonal delights that rivaled Starbucks.

  The other was older than Olive, had wobbly tables and hard metal chairs, was chronically five degrees too warm, and generally offered only watery drip coffee when the espresso machine was “acting up,” which was often. It was also owned and run by SherryLee Mullins, who had inherited it from her mother and, most importantly at the moment, was married to Principal Mullins—Olive’s boss.

  Which meant that when choosing which coffee shop to patronize, Olive winced through the tepid sludge at SherryLee’s rather than cozying up with a mint fudge mocha at Rollie’s Roasters.

  It was good old-fashioned ass-kissing, and Olive would never have done it on behalf of herself. But if charming Mrs. Mullins meant she’d put in a good word with her husband, which in turn meant Olive could get better lab equipment for her students?

  For that, Olive would smooch booty all day long.

  Unfortunately, Mrs. Mullins had thus far proven herself impervious to Olive’s special kind of charm. And since she really needed to win over the Mullinses for reasons that had nothing to do with her classroom, she didn’t feel the least bit guilty about employing the big guns.

  Or at least, that was the plan. Her big gun was ten minutes late.

  The tinkle of the bell signaled that the Man of the Year had finally decided to grace her with his presence, and she gave Carter a glare generally reserved for tardy students.

  “Sorry, Teach,” he said with a grin, extending a long leg to pull out the chair with his sneaker. He swung a leg over it, sitting on it backward, good arm braced on the back of the chair.

  Olive gave him a look. “Cool move. Will the rest of the T-Birds be joining us?”

  “It is a cool move.”

  “Well, un-cool it,” Olive said, lowering her voice. “Before she comes back and sees you.”

  “Before who—”

  “Young man, that is not how a gentleman sits with a lady,” SherryLee said, coming out from the back room with a bakery box in hand. She wasn’t a day over forty-five but seemed to relish acting twice her age. Or at the very least, she took great delight in making anyone who came into her orbit feel nine years old.

  “Good thing I’m not in the presence of a lady, then,” Carter muttered under his breath, as he righted the chair.

  “Rude,” Olive said.

  “Really? I watched you down an entire Gatorade in three gulps yesterday, and do not try to pretend that burp wasn’t you.”

  “I needed to replenish my electrolytes after the hell you put me through.”

  “We played catch in your front yard. Which I still maintain doesn’t count toward one of our five baseball sessions.”

  “It counts,” Olive said decisively. “It was a full ten minutes.”

  “Yes, but you caught only ten percent of the balls, so . . .”

  “Here you are, Olivia,” SherryLee said, coming over and setting a tired-looking latte in front of her.

  “It’s Olive.”

  SherryLee wrinkled her nose. “Which I presume is short for Olivia.”

  “Nope. Parents were just big fans of Popeye,” Olive explained, and not for the first time.

  “Hmm.” SherryLee’s eyebrows crept up toward her teased blonde bangs. “Well, Olive, I made the latte with regular, as you insisted, but let’s switch to decaf next time.”

  “Why?” Olive couldn’t help asking. She’d never been particularly good at the ass-kissing game.

  “When I was pregnant with my two boys, I wouldn’t think of touching caffeine.”

  Olive pressed her lips together. Both of SherryLee’s sons had come through Olive’s class in the past couple of years, and they were not exactly the cream of Haven’s crop in terms of personality. A little caffeine in the womb could only have helped, in Olive’s nonexpert medical opinion. And even more to the point . . .

  “I’m not pregnant,” Olive said.

  “Not yet. But that caffeine will build up in your system.”

  Olive was just about to point out that that was not how caffeine worked, when SherryLee mercifully shifted her judgmental gaze to Carter.

  “Young man, it’s not polite to wear hats indoors at a nice establishment.”

  Carter dutifully removed his Hawks cap, running his hand through his short hair and giving SherryLee a sheepish grin.

  Yesssssss, Olive thought with glee. That’s the stuff. Reel her in, Big Gun!

  The coffee shop owner’s blue eyes widened slightly. “Why, as I live and breathe, it’s Carter Ramsey!”

  Olive gave in to the urge to roll her eyes, since SherryLee wasn’t looking at her anyway. As I live and breathe? You’d think SherryLee was born on the set of Gone with the Wind instead of in New York State.

  “I’d heard you were back in town,” SherryLee said, cocking her hip to one side and planting a fist on it. “Shame about the injury. Kirk and I don’t miss a game, but it’s just not the same without your good-looking face gracing our TV screen.”

  “Appreciate that, ma’am,” Carter said, letting a deferential note enter his tone. He was good at this.

  “What brings you into my shop?” SherryLee asked. The dubious glance in Olive’s direction asked the real question: Why are you here with her?

  “Just connecting with old . . . friends.” Carter answered SherryLee’s question, but his eyes were on Olive as he said it, and she sucked in a breath in response to the heated gaze.

  Her brain knew he was messing with the nosy SherryLee, but her body was suddenly very aware that this man had been named the sexiest man in the country with good reason.

  “I see,” SherryLee said, skepticism clearly warring with excitement over a juicy morsel of gossip. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Whatever Olive’s having sounds great,” Carter said, still not looking away from Olive.

  “Are you sure?” Olive said in a scandalized whisper, after SherryLee slowly walked away, lingering with the hope of catching any of their conversation. “It has caffeine.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “You know, with the steamy look you just lit me on fire with, she’s going to think it’s your imaginary babies I’m threatening with my latte.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll make an honest woman of you, Dunn.”

  “I’ll need a ring first. My daddy always told me that no boy would buy the cow when he could have the milk for free.”

  “Did he?” Carter asked curiously.

  Olive laughed. “Definitely not. His idea of the birds-and-the-bees talk was to tell me to read On the Origin of Species and Gray’s Anatomy. I was eleven.”

  “My mom told me about his passing. I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged, even though the l
ance of pain felt surprisingly fresh, given it had been nearly three years. “We’ve all got to say goodbye to someone sometime, right? I mean, I’ll never understand how a man that smart never kicked his three-pack-a-day habit, but alas. Besides, he wouldn’t have liked you.”

  Carter shook his head. “Everybody likes me.”

  “Dad wouldn’t have. Or rather, I don’t think he’d have noticed you. He was sort of the brainy, aloof type.”

  “So he wouldn’t have been happy about me knocking you up?”

  “No. I do wish he could have met his grandchildren, though,” Olive said a little wistfully.

  “So babies are a part of your future?” he asked.

  “I hope so. I want kids. In a perfect world, I’d have them the old-fashioned way. True love, husband, babies. Preferably in that order. But I’m also practical. If that doesn’t happen, I can adopt or go the sperm-donor route.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “I don’t suppose your tadpoles are available. I’d just love to raise the next Babe Ruth.”

  “Based on what I’ve seen of your hand-eye coordination, no child of ours would stand a chance at athletic superstardom, even with my superb genes trying to get their say.”

  “Which means they’d be well-rounded delights. Just like me.”

  “Oh, well in that case, when do we get started?”

  “Don’t get excited,” she said. “This would be a strictly dirty magazine, your little soldiers into a cup and frozen situation, no bumping your uglies up on mine.”

  “There you go again, adding a touch of gentle sensuality to everything.”

  Olive beamed at him, then took a sip of her coffee and winced.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She pushed the mug away. “You’d think that one of these days I’d learn that the coffee here is always lukewarm at best.”

  “So why are we here?”

  “Because SherryLee is married to Principal Mullins. Normally, I’m here in a futile attempt to sweet-talk her into sweet-talking him into getting new microscopes. Today, however, we have a different mission.”

  “Convincing her to be godmother to our children?”

  “Way more difficult. We need the gym.”

  “Come again?”

  “Reunion business, son,” Olive said, making a posturing gesture. “Did you really think I’d toss that dumb ball around with you last night—”

  “Toss is a strong word for what you were doing.”

  “Shush. It’s quid pro quo time. We’re here to convince SherryLee to convince Kirk to let us use the gym for the reunion. For free.”

  “Isn’t that pretty standard protocol for high school reunions? I don’t see why we have to drink shitty coffee in order to do that. Can’t we just ask?”

  “Says the guy who’s been gone ten years. You missed the debacle that was Haven High’s twenty-year reunion a couple years ago.”

  “What happened?”

  “Let’s just say that Generation X’s partying skills are no joke. For the first two months of that school year, our sports teams had to use the Wilton District’s gym for practice while the fire damage to our gym was repaired.”

  “Fire damage. That’s impressive. And alarming.”

  “Indeed. Principal Mullins banned all future reunions from happening on school premises, because that’s the reasonable reaction. Last year’s ten-year reunion team had to put a big tent on the football field, which of course paired really nicely with the late-summer thunderstorm.”

  “What about the fancy golf club?”

  “Oh yeah. We totally have the budget for that. Right along with the caviar and imported champagne,” Olive said.

  “I’m so excited to raise our sarcastic children.”

  “Children?” SherryLee chirped, setting a latte in front of Carter that had perfect-looking foam, the likes of which Olive had never seen come from SherryLee’s espresso machine, as well as honest-to-goodness steam.

  “This is perfect. Thank you so much, Mrs. Mullins,” Carter said with a wide smile. “Say, I was wondering if you could help me with something. I don’t get back to Haven nearly as much as I like to, which is a shame, because it’s full of so many great memories for me, especially at the high school. In fact, I was just telling Olive here, I can’t believe it’s been a full ten years since I’ve been inside the gym . . .”

  Olive smiled and reached across the table, pulling Carter’s much hotter, much more delicious latte toward her, taking a sip as she let Carter work his Man of the Year magic.

  Less than five minutes later, SherryLee was calling her husband. Less than one minute after that, Principal Mullins agreed to let Haven High’s ten-year reunion happen in the high school gym.

  “What do you know?” Olive said happily, as they stepped out into the humid summer weather a few minutes later. “Being friends with Carter Ramsey has its perks after all.”

  “Remember that tonight.”

  “What’s tonight?” she asked.

  “Scorekeeping,” he said, grinning down at her. “Tracking every single pitch, hit, and error of an entire MLB game.”

  Olive made a pained noise. “All nine periods?”

  “Innings,” he clarified with a laugh.

  “Right. How long will that last?”

  Carter dropped his arm over her shoulders as they walked toward their cars. “About three hours. Three long, glorious hours, future mother of my children.”

  Olive groaned dramatically.

  Anything to keep him from discovering that she was actually looking forward to it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Friday, August 14

  Olive was busy comparing the unit price on bulk toilet paper at Walmart when she was enveloped with a wonderfully familiar vanilla scent, followed immediately by someone soft and warm hugging her from behind.

  “You’re back!” Olive said, knowing who it was even before she turned around to return the enthusiastic hug.

  Sofia Castiano was a substitute teacher at Haven High, and one of Olive’s closest friends. She and her husband had been in Puerto Rico for the past couple of weeks visiting family, and Olive had forgotten that she was due back.

  “Oh my gosh, I kid you not, I was just about to text you and see if you had time for lunch next week when I looked up, and what did I see but you standing right in front of me, going to town on toilet paper.”

  “Um, can we not phrase it that way?” Olive said, grabbing a double ply that promised to be soft and strong and dropping it into her basket. “When did you get back? How was it? I want to know everything.”

  “Oh, you know,” Sofia said with a dramatic sigh, resting her forearms on the handle of her cart, her trademark high bun waggling atop her head. “Both sides of the family think we’ve completely and irrevocably screwed up the boys’ lives. Luis’s family thinks it’s my fault for daring to want a career, and my mother can’t go five minutes without pointing out that Luis’s mother skipped mass once, eight months ago.”

  “So, typical family stuff?” Olive asked.

  “Exactly. I was like, ‘Ohmigod, I love you guys so much, but also you might kill me.’ Anyway, it’s good to be back, especially since . . .” Sofia nudged her cart closer and lowered her voice to a loud whisper, even though they had the toilet paper aisle all to themselves. “Have you heard?”

  “Probably,” Olive said confidently. “That Carol Ann is having triplets? False, it’s twins. Girls. That Bob and Brenda Hamlin separated? Sadly, true. That we’re getting a Chipotle where that weird carpet store used to be? Tragically, false. Though—”

  “Oh my God, Olive, Chipotle, Olive? Who cares! I’m talking about the fact that Carter Ramsey is here in Haven.”

  “Oh,” Olive said with a little smile. “Yeah. Actually—”

  “And,” Sofia continued excitedly, “have you heard why he’s here?”

  “Sure. The reunion, and his family—”

  “Felicity George,” Sofia said triumphantly.

  Oli
ve blinked. “What?”

  “Felicity George,” Sofia repeated, blinking her wide brown eyes in puzzlement at Olive. “I didn’t move to Haven until after she’d left, but I thought for sure that you’d know who—”

  “I know who she is,” Olive said, sorting through her thoughts. Of course she knew her. Next to Carter, she was one of Haven’s more famous residents, though more by association to her Hollywood director husband. Come to think of it, she wasn’t Felicity George anymore. She’d become Felicity Alpert since marrying Todd Alpert, best known for directing a teen TV series about witches, or warlocks, or magicians, or something. Olive had never seen it. She actually hadn’t spent much mental energy on Felicity George . . . ever.

  In high school, they hadn’t been friends or run in the same circles. Even when Felicity had been in Olive’s senior government group, they’d sort of coexisted without really connecting. Not enemies, just indifferent to each other.

  Carter, on the other hand, had not been indifferent to Felicity George. Quite the opposite.

  Olive swallowed, alarmed by how bothered she was at the thought that Carter was here in Haven to see Felicity. She shouldn’t be. The day Carter moved in next door, it had been her first thought. She’d assumed that of course there was a connection between his reappearance and Felicity’s newly single status.

  But then she’d gotten to know Carter, and she’d quit thinking about Felicity altogether.

  And Carter hadn’t mentioned his ex.

  His omission was telling. Olive just wasn’t entirely sure what it said.

  “The part about Carter is true,” Olive said slowly. “He is back. But I don’t know about Felicity. She hasn’t RSVPed to the reunion, so it could be conjecture.”

  “Nope,” Sofia said confidently. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I know something you don’t. Anna Russel stopped by last night to borrow some carpet cleaner after her cat puked in her living room, and she told me that she heard from Felicity’s cousin’s wife at Pilates that Felicity is for sure coming to town to attend the reunion and reconnect with people.”

  “Huh.” Olive began pushing her cart toward the front of the store, pretending indifference to the news. Which was annoying. She shouldn’t have to pretend to be indifferent; she should actually be indifferent. Who cared if gorgeous, petite, universally popular Felicity wanted to come back for the reunion? The more the merrier.