Page 30 of Fake It Till You Make It

“Amarie?” Maybe calling her by name would facilitate an actual reply. As a trained soldier, a skilled vet raised to follow in his father’s mighty footsteps, he could manage a rural practice without a social butterfly intermediary for his customers. But right now, he struggled to keep his sandpapered eyelids from scraping his corneas.

Hiccup, seeing Eli’s need, trotted ahead of him through the grooming center breezeway into the kitchen. Under normal circumstances, his pooch preferred a romp through the switchgrass before the start of a workday, so Eli appreciated the seeing eye dog assist.

“Momma? Amarie? Where’s everybody?” He smelled the soothing aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Another scent, potent and dark, caught in his nostrils, burning through his haze.

“Good morning, Eli.”

Not the voice he ever wanted to hear inside the Calvary home. Internally, his temperature shot from ninety-eight degrees Fahrenheit to nuclear. Lourdes Pendleton. He should’ve suspected. Even in high school, if she perceived a weakness, she’d scurry from the shadows to gnaw a chunk of flesh in a sneak attack. If blood could boil, his would crack the ground beneath his feet. In tune with his abrupt change in mood, Hiccup released a whine, then danced backward, his bulk colliding with Eli’s shins.

“Shh. Easy, boy.” He scratched the dog’s head until he calmed. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filled it with water from the tap, then added it to Hiccup’s bowl.He ignored his unwanted guest. While Hiccup hydrated, something Eli needed to do, he scooped one cup of dry dog food into a bowl.

“Who let you in, Lourdes?” All symptoms from last night’s excess burned away. He stood, facing the enemy, ready to protect and defend. She rose from the kitchen table, slithering closer on sky-high nude heels, her body undulating beneath a tailored cream suit.

“This is Service, Eli. Doors are always open, remember?”

“To friends,” he replied, sliding breakfast over to Hiccup’s aluminum dish.

“Tsk, tsk.” She laughed, the sound more calculated than coy. “Careful. I’m here to help,” she said with a sweep of a checkbook in front of his face. Taunting. Coiling. Searching for an opening in his armor in which to strike.

“You must take me for an April fool.”

“I could make your money problems go poof.” She puckered red-painted lips, blowing him an air kiss.

Yeah, right. Tangling with her would saddle him with a crap ton of bad baggage.

“Not interested.”

“Imagine you and me together, opening a star-rated four seasons resort,” she drummed polished talons on the kitchen table at her back, “right here. A dream come true for some very influential people in this town.”

He came to stand in front of her and leaned in close. “Not my dream.”

She sighed in mock frustration. Eli wasn’t fooled by her ruse. “Same old Calvary tunnel vision. Broaden your thinking. My daddy has his eyes on this property.” She stroked her checkbook down his chest, pressed the sharp point of the plastic into his ridged muscle. “And like me, he gets what he wants.”

He pushed her hand away. “Then why are you here?”

“Because optics have an impact around here,” she drawled. “This is business for Daddy. Personal for me.”

So, the Pendletons wanted him to make them look good for trying to rob his family of their land? The more his life changed, the more some things remained unchanged.

“I’m proposing you sell me this house, the cabins, the land for, let’s say”—she angled her chin as if searching the ceiling for a number—“eighteen thousand today. An additional twenty when you deliver the keys to me, in person. Play nice and I’ll even convince Daddy to keep one of the cabins for Leah to visit in the offseason.”

“You. Your daddy. Your checkbook. Are not welcome here. Not when my father was alive. And for damn sure, not now.”

Leaning against the table at her back, she relaxed her slight weight in her palms, crossed her ankles. “Aw, you’re so handsome when you’re mad. Always have been, but you’re powerless against the inevitable. Why just this morning I overheard Daddy fielding bids to tear down this.” She grinned smug superiority as she looked down her nose at the scarred floors carved with fond childhood memories, the faded picture of a gap-toothed Tobias riding his father’s shoulders.

“Answer’s no.” What in green hell delayed the woman who’d promised promptness? “We’ve got work to do. Amarie,” Eli bellowed, “get in here.”

“Hold your mule,” she yelled. Footsteps sounded above his head. A door opened. Closed. Opened again. Like a genie from a decorative bottle, Amarie appeared on the landing.

“I was in the shower, Mr. Grumpy Pants. I had just started the mail prep when you roared again.”

She trounced down the back steps, buttoning up a vibrant lavender-and-purple half top with a flash of midriff showing. He allowed his gaze to travel up to her ample chest, plum-glossed lips, and matching eye color. When the smoke cleared in his brain, Eli licked his lips.

Wait, why was she upstairs? Never mind, that mystery would unravel after the Lady Pendleton hoofed it out the door. And that’s when a plan materialized. The Pendletons thought him out of options, but he smiled up at Amarie, theunknownunknown, his secret weapon of ideas. His new mysterious investment partner, at least for the next five minutes, with no known connections in Service except for what he created.

“There you are, partner,” he beamed.

The crazy woman actually spun around and looked behind her before stuffing a fistful of crumpled envelopes, probably more bills, into a purse slung over one shoulder before crossing arms beneath her attention-grabbing chest. Which only pushed the plush pillows higher in his line of sight. Like a puppy unleashed, his libido shot out the gate, running full steam into the danger zone.