Page 55 of Fake It Till You Make It

“How’s Buchanan calling us tomcats?” Noah moved to stand in the fading light of day. “That’s rich. And dumping a bunch of kittens…” He rubbed at his clean-shaven face.

“A kindle. Not a bunch,” Eli corrected, smiling at the kindle of furry tadpoles making their way up his shoulder. They looked adorable climbing his mountain of male muscle. Aw, even the normally harsh angles of his face softened. Stupid butterflies, batting their wings in absolute glee at the spectacular view and masculine might made gentle. She should probably find her Spanx waister tamer, that would strangle those pesky butterflies. Taking a fancy to her boss, her grumpy, “not interested in anyone more than ina temporary arrangement” boss, would cost her more emotional mileage than she had at the moment.

“I’m too old to have a house full of kittens under my feet, boys. You don’t want your momma slowed down with a broken hip.”

“They can come home with me. I have pet supplies in my cabin anyways,” replied Eli.

Was Amarie the only one that wanted to hug Eli? Yeah, no one else seemed moved by his compassion. She found herself wishing he belonged to her. Eli Calvary was the type of fairy-tale hero women fantasized about. She certainly did. What woman could refuse a generous, protective man with battleship-sized biceps who knew how to stroke a kitty?

“That’s it,” Amarie blurted out, all at once, super excited. “I have an idea.”

Someone gently tugged a lock of her hair. “About the thirst trap or the kittens?”

Of course. Noah. Ever the playful playboy with a heart of gold, fixated on the thirst trap.

“Both,” she said, swatting his hand in jest. “If Bucky is unhappy about our bachelor auction, I can’t wait to see what shows up on the doorstep when we get our TikTok page up and running with the hashtag SexyKittyVet.”

“I am a sexy kitty?” Eli’s roar sent a jolt through everybody, even the kitties; their soft mews rang out a distress catcall—meow, meow, meow.

“You will be,” she promised, smartphone in hand. “You will be.”

He most certainly was not fuzzy or cuddly at this moment, but to their target audience, his cowboy swagger would be irresistible catnip.

Chapter Fourteen

AMARIE HAD SAIDshe believed in him. Why had her quiet confession pleased him so? Considering how they bickered with and jabbed at each other during the day, when Eli had briefly held her hand tonight in comfortable companionship, he’d found the innocent gesture rather pleasurable. And now she was in his home. Helping him with kittens.

He’d only invited a few women over to his cabin. His wife had been the last woman, other than his momma, to visit in the past four years. Cara had been unimpressed with the small, two-bedroom log cabin that sat at the base of the Landing Falls waterfall. He had worked with his father and brothers to build all three of the cabins. He and his brothers had taken pride in their work. Each place had its own little touch, speaking to the owner. Maybe not the owner, but the occupant, at least. Having Amarie, the city girl, visit for the first time, Eli found himself retracing his steps. He gave the air a sniff test, making sure the living room didn’t smell of rank gym socks, day-old nachos, and puppy. Nope, but he cranked the Glade PlugIn to high output. Toilet seat down, check. Dishes in the cabinets, check.

Yeah.

Even though she was his employee, the man that he walled off wanted to impress her. Well, he wanted his pretend partner to appreciate the rare quality in his home on the mountain. She should value what they fought to save. He told himself that was why he wanted her to enjoy the space as much as he did.

“I appreciate you helping me with the kittens.”

“No problem. I like being useful.” Amarie smiled, placing the orange-and-white striped kitten, Raspberry, in a towel-lined cardboard box. Eli had used the hose out front to fill a plastic washbasin with treatment solution. Having inspected each of the kittens, he found them dirty, fleas hopping undeterred in their fur, but otherwise in good health. Without his asking, Amarie had shed her backpack and shoes. On her knees beside him, she dried as he washed between tiny toes and gently scrubbed away grime.

“How else am I going to get a look at your place?” Amarie produced her smartphone, the bane of his existence. “#SexyKittyVet.”

“Can I tell you I hate that name?”

“Sure you can, gorgeous. But it’s not going to change anything.”

“Sounds cliché. Sexy kitty.”

“For a woman, yes. A vet with real kittens to care for is sexy.”

“I guess.” Guessed she was wrong. Of the three brothers, women liked Eli because of his follow-through, not his sex appeal.

He toweled off another meowing fur ball. Amarie plucked from his hands a spike-haired kitty she’d named Formerly, the feline he’d previously known asthe cream-colored one. ’Cause let’s face it, Eli didn’t have a creative cellin his genetic petri dish. Color him grateful that Amarie had a constant stream of ideas. Even better, she had checklists and action steps to actually get things accomplished. In military terms, the woman was a stellar performer. Dr. Russell Feldman’s loss, Eli’s gain.

“Well, you could always be a sexy beast. Either way, sex really does sell. Some would consider you handsome. Take advantage before your beauty fades, grumpy pants.”

“I still don’t like it.” Beauty had sold him on Cara. His tongue had started wagging the first time he’d laid eyes on the government contractor assigned to Fort Meade in Maryland’s Anne Arundel County. He’d pursued her—hard. Mowed her lawn. He’d volunteered to paint her spare bedroom, the one she used as her private yoga studio, just to stay close to her. If Cara wanted, he stood ready to provide. Too blinded by what he wanted to give in a relationship, he failed to notice how little his wife reciprocated his affection. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d kept working at their marriage, hopeful that his wife would grow to love and appreciate his commitment to marriage. In the end, it had provided her with more time to rob, pillage, and sour him on happily ever after for good.

“I get it. It sucks starting over, even more than when the ends barely meet. But, hey,” she shrugged, “fake it till you make it. I mean, it’s worth the sacrifice to live in a place like this. Under the stars. I can’t believe you live here.”

She’d said as much since he’d pulled alongside the cabin, the view of the water visible through the windshield. One Wonder Woman twirl in the yard and she’d pulled up the MLS listing on his house on her phone, determined to rid him of the albatross because she thought his log cabin was heaven. Perfection. That’s the word she’d used.