Page 16 of Fake It Till You Make It

“Where’s your car, Amarie?”

Plenty of questions stirred in his head, but he’d start here. Like what led a city girl from the big D.C. to West Virginia, deep country?

While she’d scarfed down the last strip of bacon and the biscuit with his name on it, she’d conveniently revealed little about herself. His life and that of his family’s wouldn’t teeter off the edge because he let his guard down over a gorgeous smile. Or smooth arms the color of pure hot chocolate. Or—blast, he chided himself for focusing on the wrong details.

“What’s that, boss?” She blinked rapidly, using her fluid soprano to lull him, a siren’s song that would thwack like a rock against his hard head. Darn it. He loved and hated his situation.

Eli looked her square in the eyes, not the least bit humored by the stall tactic. She could save the angel of mercy act for some fast-talking city slicker. The more hethought about it, he decided Saint Amarie had skeletons and he planned to uncover them before his family got too attached. He tried not to think about how much he’d enjoyed bantering with her across the breakfast table.

“You heard me.” Eli pointed to the parking lot, devoid of foreign automobiles. “Your car. Where is it?”

“In town.”

“Where, exactly?”

Eli had lost too much—his heart, his father, his marriage—not to protect those who relied on him most. A charming woman had derailed his life once. After the divorce, he’d vowed he would reclaim his future one day at a time, one problem at a time. He caught a flash of his cute little kitten of a receptionist transforming from happy feline to cat on a hot tin roof. And Eli planned to turn up the heat. This would be Amarie Walker’s last day on his payroll.

Chapter Five

WHOA, TALK ABOUTthe perils of small-town life. Mrs. Kline had toppled Amarie’s blissful existence faster than Oprah’s Harry and Meghan interview. To make matters worse, she’d painted a Cristal-and-caviar level of luxury by spilling the tea on Prince and the designer luggage of unmentionable origin. Not that her private affairs, or how she came to be in West Virginia, required a security clearance, but what would Eli think if he saw proof that her past swerved into the unprepared lane most days? Three words summed up Eli: exact, ordered, and immovable. Would his military mindset demand immediate termination?

How unfair because she really could help him run the practice with improved efficiency.

Already Amarie had tidied her small desk twice, no, three times. Once had been plenty, but Eli watching her every move with his all-seeing eyes had ratcheted up her stomach acid production to gastric Chernobyl levels. She was one hairy eyeball away from a bathroom blowout of epic magnitude. To her credit, she’d sought expert advice, not on the gas bubbles arm wrestling her sphincter, but ratheron a best practices blueprint from the American Veterinary Medical Association. The website had too many words and not enough pictures for her taste. In the end, she’d resorted to YouTube videos less than ten minutes in length explaining the day-to-day operations of a small veterinary practice. Today she planned to peck out a to-do list in the notes section of her smartphone, prioritize the action items from one to ten, and implement the top three. Small, yet monumental, baby steps.

In actuality, animals and humans needed much the same. There were medical consultations, physical examinations, vaccinations, acute care, laboratory studies that could be billed without actually seeing a doctor, and of course, grooming services. Basically, she was a nurse in training for quadrupeds.

But all her investigative work would be wasted if she got canned.

Maybe Leah could help. Well, she already had.

The Calvary family matriarch had followed Amarie onto the porch yesterday, where they had discovered Vali slumped in a rocking chair, a one-hundred-and-eighty-pound snoring toddler stewing in her own juices, literally.

Amarie quickly apologized a dozen times. Vali, being Vali, had laughed off her mountain adventure, stating the trip was worth it to meet Amarie’s goat trio, who she’d named Billie, Jean, and Diana. Leah had sprung into supermom mode. She’d tucked the luggage into the sewing room, batting away Amarie’s protests. Within minutes, Vali’d had a travel mug of Leah’s special blend cradled to her lips and what Amarie considered the best baked dough north of the Mississippi in her tummy.

Now Eli wanted answers. But she’d rather not divulge the details before she had time to sort things out. Liketransportation, housing, and the rest of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.

“Amarie,” Eli barked.

“What, you big bully?” She ignored the flash of warning in his eyes. “I’m thinking.”

Even with his lush midnight beard, Amarie saw the muscle in his jaw tick. “Don’t think. Talk,” he demanded.

“Stop rushing me,” she mused. Not that she wanted to be difficult, but what if Eli condemned her decisions? Like her father, would he use it as an excuse to remind her of how inadequate she was at… everything? Just like Russell, she would be giving him the ammunition to extinguish this little flame of success she’d ignited.

“I’m not a patient man.”

She rolled her eyes heavenward. “As if that wasn’t obvious.”

“Talk,” he ordered.

At a crossroads on day two. She’d hoped to avoid questions. Particularly those of interest to Eli “Doberman Pinscher” Calvary, whose very presence dizzied her wits, which was hard to do, while simultaneously curling her toes. Instead of socializing, something she worked hard at, she chose to power her productivity with positive vibes. She’d jumped at the chance to apply her nursing knowledge during Adele’s surgery. Sterile technique, hydration status, urine output, she’d done it all without him directing her to assist. Up next, implementing her baby steps to success, which would benefit him even if she received a different kind of pink slip.

So, here she was. Tell him the truth. Get fired.

Delay the truth. Get fired. But at the end of the day, she’d be two hundred and twenty-four dollars richer.

“I’m not a patient man,” she repeated, buying herself twomeasly seconds. “I think that’s a line from theForrest Gumpmovie. You a fan?”