Page 49 of Fake It Till You Make It

“Yes, sir. But I don’t know the song or the steps.”

“This dance is the Crawl. I’ll teach you. The Git Up. Cotton-Eyed Joe.”

“Oh, sounds fun.” She laughed, spinning in a full circle. The woman became one with the rhythm. Learning the choreography before the chorus. “What’s this song?”

“Big and Rich’s ‘Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy),’” Eli drawled, saddling up close to her curves.

“Is that an option?” she yelled above the jukebox.

Heck yeah, Eli thought, but bit his tongue to avoid an answer.

Two songs later, when Amarie relaxed in his arms and rested her head against his chest, Eli sang along with the words as they swayed hip to hip. Yeah, today was a good day to have a great partner.

Chapter Thirteen

TWO DAYS AFTERtheir visit to Matt Johnson’s farm, Amarie gathered her dream team, Leah, Tobias, Noah, and Eli, around the Calvary kitchen table. Dinner had been served, the scent of simmering spices clung to the air. The time to discuss strategy had arrived. Rain had cooled the afternoon temperature to the mid-eighties but not the stream of new clients interested in the Calvary brothers. Seems the possibility of the three men finding love gave the town plenty to talk about. The bidding wars had begun.

From her position at the head of the table, Amarie opened her tablet, pointing to the first in a series of computerized graphics she’d created with their target goal, daily minimums, and online content calendar template. “We have twenty-six days to raise eighteen thousand dollars.”

“Not anymore.” Next to her, Leah held up her phone; a digital thermometer had the bottom fully shaded in blue. “Ha, will you look at dem apples. We’ve raised over twenty-five hundred dollars in four days. Told you, boys. Mama knows best when it comes to love. I’ll get all three of you down the aisle sooner rather than later.”

The mention of future nuptials reminded Amarie that in nine days Gracie Lou and Caleb would host their wedding, the Saturday after next. She’d been invited by the bride, the groom, and the pet owners who visited the clinic—but not by herpartner. Her brain reminded her that she and Eli had a business arrangement, but it still sucked that he chose to attend without her. Especially after last night’s dinner and dancing. Since he hadn’t mentioned the heat tangoing between their two-step, she wouldn’t, either.

Eli jumped in. “Nobody’s talking love and marriage with this bachelor auction, Momma. That’s just crazy. Now onto saner topics. I’ve been thinking, to be on the safe side, we need a minimum of twenty-five grand to clear all our debts.”

His voice carried from the far end of the table, which was littered with empty food platters. Amarie spared a glance at the last of the green beans, having devoured two slices of meatloaf smothered in homemade mushroom gravy, two biscuits, and all the glazed carrots on her plate. Be strong, gurl. To resist the compulsion to finish off the leftovers, she actually sat on one of her hands.

Wait a tick. What had he said? When had he decided to up the ante above eighteen thousand? And why had he waited till this meeting to announce it before discussing it with her?

“Whew, that’s a lofty price tag.” Tobias sighed, pushing the remnants of mashed potatoes around his plate with his fork.

“I’ll say.” Amarie’s pulse began to race. Eighteen big ones would be a stretch with the compressed timeline. Now, Eli expected her to help him raise one thousand dollars per day. Did he not understand women only liked good surprises? The natural flow of conversation continued across the Calvary dinner table, the occupants oblivious to herstruggles—the stress of having to generate four figures in bids every day and her insatiable appetite. Working the farms these last three days, she’d underestimated her caloric burn. No wonder Eli had the toned musculature of a gym junkie.

“Why so high above what we need, bro?” Noah said through a mouthful of homemade chocolate pudding.

Prior to dinner, Amarie had joined Leah in the kitchen, for comradery rather than actually being an assistant. As a reward, Lead had held out a wooden spoon to Amarie after swirling it through the bain-marie filled with cocoa powder, sugar, and milk from the dairy farm they’d visited earlier that day. It had been years since she’d met a cook who still owned a double boiler like her grandma Claudia. Amarie’d licked the spoon clean. Unfortunately, they’d gotten so carried away that Eli had walked in on them dancing to BTS, a Korean pop group she streamed via SoundCloud, and she’d grabbed his hand and pulled him into the house party. Apparently, dancing before dinner was an approved company policy. He’d actually given her a hint of smile. She wished he would do that more, smiling. When he did, her silly heart fluttered and her lady parts joined in the fun, too.

“Yeah, Eli. Why are you changing the goal on me?” she demanded, irritated that charts they’d worked on before the meeting needed adjustments.

“This isn’t personal, Amarie. But the mortgage on the house in Warrenton still has to be paid until it sells.”

“Now why didn’t I know that you had additional debts? I had no idea you lived in the D.C. suburbs with your wife.”

“We never lived there. No one has. The marriage ended before the contract closed.”

“That’s pretty darn sad.” For a man who valued loyalty and commitment, divorce had to bruise Eli’s ego. Ifthe person who swore to love her up and abandoned their life together, she would have trust issues, too. When relationships go wrong, more than a heart gets broken. Seems Amarie and Eli could both attest to the fallout of left-behind lovers.

“Not for long. It’s on the market again; the first realtor couldn’t get the property off my hands.”

“Huh, that sucks. The housing market is on fire. It’s a seller’s market.”

“So the media keeps telling me. But I’m the one stuck with a twenty-nine-hundred-dollar mortgage payment. Unfortunately for me, the house has what the realtor calls ‘ugly bones.’ That’s code for an eccentric floor plan.”

“Doesn’t sound like code to me.” Amarie shrugged. “You built a butt-ugly house.”

“Thanks for that, Saint Amarie.” Eli pushed back from the table to put his plate in the sink. “Seems most growing families prefer spacious bedrooms and luxury kitchens, not Cara’s ten-by-ten sardine can–sized rooms and efficient hotel-style kitchen.”

“Sounds like Edward’s room in thatTwilightvampire movie, more for entertainment than sleep.”