Page 44 of Baby, It’s You (Clairesville #1)

Hunter

T he past four weeks with Olive have been incredible.

Time feels like it’s flying by. Now that we have laid everything out on the table, there’s a level of comfort and intimacy between us that feels even more natural.

Knowing that she likes me back, that I’m not alone in my feelings, has made my heart full.

I feel myself falling in love with her and know that I’m so lucky to have her in my life.

I will wait forever if I must for her to be ready to be with me.

We have filmed two more episodes of the series recently, and every single episode has made the bar fund grow.

We have almost hit our goal of a million dollars.

I know Olive realizes that this means she will have to ask Tripp if he will sell the bar to her soon and it’s making her anxious.

I might have to threaten the guy if he doesn’t sell it to her.

I can’t watch Whiskey’s get taken from her.

Today we are meeting at the bar to have lunch and then film.

She has the day off since Missy is working and I’m excited to have some uninterrupted time with her.

I pull up to her apartment complex, preparing to get out of my truck, when I see her burst out her front door, all smiles, as she waves to me.

I chuckle and wave enthusiastically back to her.

She bounces down the concrete steps to the ground floor and my breath escapes as it always does when I take her in.

Olive has her hair pulled back into a high ponytail that swishes when she walks and puts her long, swanlike neck on display.

She is wearing a simple white tank that shows off a sliver of her stomach, and a pair of jeans.

She always looks so effortlessly beautiful.

“Hey, stranger.” She smiles as she walks up.

I step around to the passenger side of the truck and pull open the door for her, motioning to the seat. “Your chariot awaits, princess.”

She rolls her eyes. “Princess?” she snorts.

“Too much?” I chuckle. “How about ‘doll’?”

“How about no nicknames for me, Curls .” She playfully tussles my hair as she shuffles past me into her seat.

“Not into nicknames?” I lean against the side of my truck, looking down at her.

She wrinkles her nose. “No, I always feel like they are condescending most of the time. I only like ‘baby’ or my own name.”

I throw my head back and laugh. “Condescending?” I smile. “Okay. Baby it is.”

“I love when you do that.” She smiles up at me.

“What?”

“Throw your head back when you laugh; it just bursts out of you. It’s contagious and it makes me happy.”

I didn’t realize that she notices these minute details about me.

I lean forward and kiss her on the forehead.

Her eyes close and I hear her breathing hitch slightly.

We both have decided it’s best to not be fully intimate with each other until she’s ready to be in a relationship, but I am glad I still get to show her some affection.

These small intimacies feel almost more sensual, like we are really appreciating each other as our connection increases.

I draw back from her forehead and playfully pretend to tussle her hair like she did to me.

Olive giggles as I close her door and walk back around, smiling to myself like an idiot.

This is the happiest I’ve been since losing my father; I didn’t know it was possible for me to feel this amount of joy again.

Soon we arrive outside the bar. I hear her let out a sigh of relief when she sees that Tripp’s car isn't in the parking lot.

“Looks like today will be a good day,” I tell her.

“You read my mind.”

We get out of our seats simultaneously and shut our doors. I walk to the back of my truck and pull something out.

“I have something for you. Well, not technically for you , but…here,” I say as I pull out the basket with a lid that was sitting in my truck bed.

“Thank you?” Olive questions as I hand her the basket.

“Open it.”

When she does, she gasps. She stares down at a basket full of petunias from my garden. “For Jane,” I tell her.

Olive shakes her head and looks back up at me. “You're amazing,” she whispers.

I chuckle, as she continues, “No, I’m serious. You’re perfect. You always know what I need and how to make me smile.”

I feel my skin flush at the compliment, but also know I’m sweating. The intense sun causes a bead of sweat to drip down my neck. “I would do anything for you,” I tell her. “Seriously. But can we please go inside because I’m sweating like a pig out here.”

She places the basket back in my truck bed, then grabs my right arm and leads me towards the door. By the time we get to the bar entrance we are holding hands, and I clasp hers tighter as we walk in.

The first person I see when we walk in is Johnny and his eyes widen when he sees our connected hands. He begins to slow clap, dramatically.

“I never thought I’d see the day. Olive has a boyfriend. And it’s barstool boy, I’ll be damned.”

“Oh god, stop that. Don't make it weird,” Olive scoffs at Johnny. “Also, we are taking it slow, so please, no pressure. We aren’t in a relationship.”

“Oh, friends with benefits. Got it.” He turns towards me and winks.

“Gross.” Olive groans as a woman I assume is Missy comes from the kitchen and smiles at us. She is petite, with straight brown hair and a sweet, mousey appearance.

She looks like she would be softspoken or reserved, so I’m surprised when she shouts out, “Hey, guys!”

“Hey, Missy!” Olive responds joyfully. “This is Hunter.”

“Ahhhh, the camera man.” She reaches out and shakes my hand, giving me a toothy, knowing grin.

“That’s me,” I say, chuckling.

“You’re too pretty to be behind the camera,” Missy says to me, giving me a once-over.

“Hey! I heard that!” Rob’s voice booms from behind the kitchen window.

“Don’t you worry, Robert,” Missy teases him. “You have my heart. I’m not swayed by a young, beautiful man with a full head of hair.”

Rob grunts and peeks out the side of the window, eyeing me suspiciously. She winks at me and turns towards Rob, swatting him away. “Back to work, sweetcakes.” Then she reaches under the counter, grabs her pad of paper, and pulls a pen out from behind her ear. “So, what will it be for lunch?”

Olive orders us some burgers and fries and then we sit at a back table in the corner.

When our burgers come, we both dig in at once.

The meal is exactly what bar food should be: a greasy, savory burger and crisp, hot fries.

I swear we inhale the food in minutes, barely acknowledging each other until our plates are empty.

Once we’re finished, we look at each other and burst into laughter.

“I was hungry.” I grin, pushing my plate away.

“Me too,” she says, wiping her mouth with a napkin, then tossing it on top of her own plate. She looks at me inquisitively, a smile playing on her lips. I’m ready to talk about our next video and I can tell she is, too.

Olive clasps her hands. “So,” she says and leans closer towards me.

“So,” I respond and do the same. “Have you chosen your next subject for the series, Olive ?”

“Why yes, Curls .” She smiles. “I have.”

Holding up her index finger she continues, “Actually, it’s the reason why I chose this table.

” She stands and pushes her chair sideways, away from the wall, and squats down.

She motions for me to come over. I get up from my seat to see what she’s looking at, and squat next to her, leaning against the table.

On the wall, about two inches under where the table covered my view, there is a heart in black marker with writing scribbled inside it.

The words I read take my breath away.

AR & FR

JUST MARRIED

7-14-1990

TIME OF THE SEASON

“I know, isn’t it so cute?” Olive turns towards me, gushing. “I want to know their love story.”

“I know their story,” I tell her, stammering. I can barely believe my eyes as I say, “It’s my parents.”