Page 46 of Fake It Till You Make It

Eli thought it naïve. Depending on people meant disappointment and anticipating the worst because that’s how life worked. Folks who gave got taken—usually to the cleaners. Or in his case, to the brink of bankruptcy.

She hummed while she worked. He wondered if she even noticed that she added her own music to everything.

“What’s that you’re singing?”

“‘Diamonds and Pearls’ by Prince. It’s a song about a man giving the woman he loves the world, but all she wants is his love.”

“Sounds like a sap song. Women say they only want agood man, but that’s a fairy tale. In my story, the unsuspecting prince gets mauled by a pack of wild dogs she released when he wasn’t looking.”

“Sounds like you need a therapy horse ride yourself. I mean, you sound so jaded. You don’t believe in romance because one woman hurt your feelings.”

He’d felt more than hurt, try gutted with dirty talons. Amarie continued her armchair psychology while Belle pushed and Eli pulled, and the whole time the smartphone, propped on the half wall, recorded their at times heated debate. Twenty minutes later a beautiful foal wobbled on her legs for the first time, then stood beside her mother.

“Grab some towels out of that cabinet on the back wall.” Eli pointed. Amarie did as he instructed. She came back with an armful of old cloths. Together they dried off the foal.

“Oh my gosh, if Vali—that’s myfriend girlback in the city—if she could see me now, she would be so jealous. Wait till I tell her I gave birth to a horse.”

“Yeah, can’t wait to hear her response to that.”

“Stop it, Eli. You know what I mean. Now smile pretty for the camera.”

“Nope.” It would be well past quitting time when they climbed back in the truck, but Eli was proud of a hard day’s work. Amarie seemed to share his joy. Cara would have had a meltdown the first hour stuck out here on a dusty old farm waiting for a horse to give birth. Eli let loose a long whistle, Hiccup’s signal to move in his direction if he wanted to hitch a ride back to the cabin.

To Amarie, he said, “You did good work today. Time to head down the mountain.”

Her smile faltered. Slowly she lowered the camera. “About me sleeping in your old room.”

“She put you in my room?” he repeated, shaking his head. “I swear. Momma can’t help herself. You know she’s matchmaking?”

Amarie looked at him through long sable lashes, uncertainty stamped on her face.

“Ah, no, I don’t. And if it bothers you, I guess I could look for maybe someplace else in a town close by.”

“It’s good that you’re there with her. She needs the company. Momma doesn’t say it and she doesn’t complain… but I know the house has to feel empty with Dad gone. Besides, she likes you.”

“I really like your mom,” she sighed, and then shrugged. “You ready to head home?”

Eli didn’t know why that sounded so right to him, but he wasn’t going to question it. They’d had a good day together, working as partners. As for her staying at the house with his mom, he was happy that she’d told him the truth about everything today, that she hadn’t held it back. He did wonder how a woman as talented and generous as Amarie Walker ended up on a dirt road, alone with a broken-down car and no money to speak of. Whoever her ex-fiancé was, he was pretty sure he didn’t like the man. He stroked Belle’s baby one last time. The distinct click of a camera shutter sounded. Eli grimaced.

“What are you doing, Amarie?”

“Uploading videos to the Calvary Clinic’s new TikTok account. My account, PerkyLateBloomer, has over fifty thousand followers. They’ll help us spread the word.”

“About what?”

“We going to harness the power of social media to spread the word about the bachelor auction to raise the eighteen thousand dollars you need to save the clinic. This video has the kind of fresh content that can go viral. Hmm…” shepondered aloud, walking out of the barn as if she owned the place. Guess she had earned her place in Matt’s heart. “You need a hashtag.”

What Eli needed was a hot shower and a cold beer. He was almost tempted to invite Amarie to share both… almost.

Chapter Twelve

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER,Eli sat across from his business partner with an icy beer in hand, a platter of buttermilk-dipped chicken fingers, fresh-cut fries, and homemade pickles between them. Amarie had managed to get him in the Black Bear under the guise of social research. Basically, she wanted to hear the gossip being passed about him and his brothers around town. According to her, he needed a target audience. A converted warehouse with exposed wood beams, the Black Bear smelled of hickory smoke, hops, and roasted nuts. As per usual, bodies poured through the front door. Before long, Dierks Bentley’s tune pumping through the four-corner mounted speakers drowned out conversations. The scuff of cowboy boots roaring in unison across a dimly light dance floor created the ambience.

“The sign hanging out front says barbeque and things. Is barbeque ever on the menu?” Amarie yelled. She sliced the tip off the crispy strip, dipped it in hot honey, and popped the juicy bite in her mouth.

“Before Caleb took the job at the fire station, he kept the smoker out back in operating order. It’s too busy in the summertime for Gracie Lou to run the smoker and the bar.”

“Ah,” she nodded, “makes sense. Oh my gosh,” she moaned, and the croony sound echoed with sugar and spice. Watching the woman eat warmed his insides. And thoseoohs andaahs made his thoughts sticky like molasses on steamy pancakes. “This chicken, these pickles are addictive.”