Page 11 of Fake It Till You Make It

“I said what I said,” came Noah’s reply, before he sauntered off without looking back.

Huh, she must have misinterpreted the brotherly ribbing as a mountain instead of a molehill.

“Okay,” she whispered, a bit baffled, and anxious to close the deal on her reason for being there in the first place. “We—we should negotiate the terms of my contract.”

“You don’t have the job,” Eli snapped. “There is no contract.”

Amarie inhaled through her nose, trying to slow the sudden increase in her heart rate. Don’t panic. He was tossing hard balls, testing her mettle. She knew from talking with Noah that she was the first and only applicant in weeks. So, she didn’t have any competition. Perhaps Eli’s grumpiness was more physical than a permanent emotional state she’d have to coax into tranquility. Her nursing brain shot into caregiver mode. He hadn’t eaten or drank anything since her arrival. The poor man probably had low blood sugar orsome other chronic condition and because he looked strong and virile, she’d stereotyped him as a rigid ogre with bad manners.

Without thinking more on her approach, she blurted out, “Would you like a bite of my biscuit?”

Leah sputtered, “Dear Lord,” at the same time as Tobias chuckled, “I doubt it will help.”

“What… no,” a slack-jawed Eli stammered. “I do not want to bite your biscuit, Amarie.”

“Fine. I’m trying to be nice,” she fired back, feeling as if she’d been chastised for exercising a basic courtesy.

“Aw, you’re a sweetheart.” Leah patted the hand Amarie rested on the table. “I tucked two biscuits in the oven for Eli.”

“Wow.” Amarie touched a hand to her heart. “What an awesome mom thing to do.” Her mother likely would do the same, well, if her father didn’t object. Because of her father’s insistence that Amarie tough it out with Russell, she’d chosen not to retreat home. She was pretty sure—eighty-five percent—her mom would eventually support her decision to end the engagement. Not openly, of course. That would’ve shaken the tightrope on which her parents’ marriage teetered. Her father controlled his wife by limiting her funds and friendships. Amarie might not appear to be alone in the world, but she was stag in this quest for independence.

“Eat up, dear.” Leah beamed at the comment. “We have a busy clinic day ahead of us. Adele’s stay is an overnighter.”

From her seat at the table, Amarie raised her cup to her lips and looked directly at Eli. “Of course, I’m almost done.”

Eli grunted at her response.

Amarie adjusted the now-empty stoneware plate in front of her. “I’m ready.” She smiled, but inside she screamed into the pillow she wanted to aim at Eli’s head. Leah gaveAmarie’s shoulder a squeeze, a gentle nudge of reassurance that she appreciated. Every time the older woman patted Amarie’s hand, showed the tiniest gesture of support, or fussed over her sons, Amarie felt a Hallmark movieaw, that’s so nicemoment.

She upended her coffee mug for the final swallow, declining a refill and adoring the Calvary family—well, as much as one could safely appreciate the kindness of complete strangers who offered food to a weary woman.

Facing Eli, she ignored the churning ball in her stomach growing in size the more he seemed determined to thwart her destiny.

“I know you’re uncomfortable with my missing paperwork. Unfortunately, I haven’t had an opportunity to compile an updated resume. You know, with me being new to Service. I read the job listing and jumped at the chance to get to work. But I can assure you, I have great people skills, which I believe will translate well to the animal kingdom. If you like, I can provide excellent references.” The first being her best friend waiting on his porch. Like Amarie’s path, the truth required a bit of bending. Russell had confiscated the new laptop he’d purchased for her.

“Jumped at the chance, huh?” Eli walked straight to the table, grabbing a chair, the scrape of the wood on wood jarring her as he turned it backward before straddling the seat. “What experience do you have in veterinary medicine, Miss Walker?”

Outside of dating a wolf in a white lab coat? Nada. That wasn’t exactly true. Her mother had gifted her a caramel-and-white beagle puppy for her tenth birthday, deeming her old enough for the added responsibility. Amarie had run home after school every day for six months to roll on the floor with Princess.

“Well,” she began, tightening her grip on the coffee mug, “there’s an Italian restaurant with outdoor seating in Key West where my parents used to live. The three cockatoos there poop on everyone, but not me. And my best friend, Vali, has a cat who’s never scratched my furniture during an overnight stay.”

“None,” he said, deadpan.

No time for fear, Amarie.Charming the boss man was all that separated her from the other pretty girls with theWILL TWERK FOR TACOSsign.

“In addition to social media marketing, I’m proficient with Microsoft Office 365.”

“Don’t need it. We haven’t upgraded.”

She heard a seed of rejection in his tone and her mind magnified her anxiety, wedging a hole in her chest for a boulder of doubt to settle. He didn’t want her. A character role she seemed doomed to replay no matter how hard she tried to make herself useful.

“From Word?” she quickly recovered, refusing to allow grumpy pants to trample his very large boots on her usefulness.

“Try pen and paper,” he said. “I’ve been animal handling since I was a boy. This job requires experience. An understanding of animal behavior. Physical strength and stamina.” He went on, but Amarie tuned out.

His bullet point list of highly defined duties blasted holes in her employable attributes, each entry wound heightening her anxiety until sticky perspiration coated her palms. As a graduate of higher education, she should be more confident in her abilities. Her mother had insisted that Amarie earn her degree. Perhaps it was because a young Bethany Harris had married Dr. Reid Walker during her sophomore year of college, and then withdrew because of her pregnancy a year later. But after two additional years at the institution,Amarie’s genuine desire to serve and heal seemed minuscule in real-world application.

“Oh…” she whispered, her dignity Apollo Creed cornered against the ropes. She would not beg. “On my last job I worked with drug formularies. And I speak fluent insurance and medical billing lingo.”