Page 32 of Fake It Till You Make It

He bristled. “That sounds like a threat.”

“Oh, you can bet your sweet patootie it is, Eli Calvary.”

But, with Amarie’s body pressed against his, Eli’s outrage dimmed as he struggled to remember why he’d been hunting for her in the first place. Oh yeah, her vehicle needed servicing. The longer he held her, the more his body remembered the length of time between his last horizontal tune-up.

“That’s ‘honey dumpling.’” Amarie spun to face him, grinning.

Eli took her by the hand, leading her past Lourdes. “You heard my partner. Now see yourself out.”

Lourdes kept spewing hate and discontent as her heels ricocheted with each strike,crack, crackout the door onto the front porch, going, going, gone.

“She’s really angry.”

“You going to offer her a biscuit?” Eli, both relieved and bereft at the distance between them, busied his hands with the coffee maker.

Amarie laughed. “Nope. I don’t like her.”

“Smart woman,” he said, pouring two cups of joe into oversized mugs. He took a gulp, balked at the scalding heat, and then exhaled. He’d fended off the first of the pack circling the Calvary legacy.

“I’d like to believe so and,” she paused, “that’s why I need you to clarify what was real in that grand performance and what wasn’t.” She shrugged, that confident bravado she’d displayed for Lourdes wilting. “Just to be clear on what I heard. I’m now a full-time Calvary employee, with benefits to include meals. That’s real.” She ticked off on one finger. “And I have complete autonomy of administrative duties. Real.” She raised another finger. “And,” trigger finger three, “you will commit to behaving to the best of your abilities for the bachelor auction of which all photographic likenesses are up for grabs for promotional purposes. Real. But I’m a fake partner with money to invest in the clinic because the Pendletons want to buy you out, but you’re not for sale?”

“You’re rambling.” He handed her a cup of coffee. “Drink up.”

“True.” She took a cautious sip. “But am I accurate?” She blew on the steamy liquid in the cup.

“Yes. They need to believe I have options other than their offer. Now let’s go.” He snagged the mug from her hand. “Time’s a-wasting.” Eli tilted both containers; chocolate adrenaline flowed down the drain with a gurgle.

“Hey, I wasn’t done.”

“Take quicker showers.” He took her hand in his and headed back through the clinic.

“Are we off to the farm?” Amarie asked, with Hiccup on her heels. “I have my Crocs in my purse.”

“First, we take care of your car.”

“Seriously?” Her voice squeaked. But her wide-open expression registered shock. “But I didn’t ask for your help. And what about breakfast?” she asked, gazing at the kitchen with longing.

“’Course I’m serious. Food can wait. What’s in the mail?”

“Give me a sec,” she said, pulling an open letter from thesequined bag hanging at her hip. “Oh, I have an incoming text message.” She held the mail and her phone in one hand, reading both.

“Put something down before you fall.”

“Eli, I’m old enough to walk and chew gum. And furthermore—”

She began to stammer, then she tripped. Eli stopped, gripping her elbow to steady her.

“What’s wrong?”

Amarie wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t think you have to worry about Lourdes.”

She handed the mail to him. There it was in bright red print. The ceiling fan overhead spun; childhood memories flashed in his head, faster, faster, then disappeared one after the other, being erased, resetting the Polaroid for the next family. The blades slowed, each whirl slicing the air, a propeller headed for his jugular in slow motion. Around his neck, the shirt collar shrank, abrading his skin. Even as he stood frozen, he felt the sucking pull of quicksand beneath his feet. The notice of default shook in Eli’s big grip.

The biggest mountain range, daunting and intimating, suddenly surrounded him. Hiccup’s bark sounded at first like a bullet train roaring between his ears, then he heard nothing, not even his own breath leaving his body. His saving grace: Amarie’s hand in his, her reassuring squeeze to his trembling fingers.

“Ah… God.” Eli rubbed his brow. “I-I thought I had more time.”

Amarie brushed his side and Eli stitched himself to this stranger who’d entered his life, leaning on her strength to keep him on his feet. He looked at her. Her eyes dimmed in a defeat he felt on a visceral level.