Page 61 of Fake It Till You Make It

“B-but, Eli.”

“Be gone in the morning, Cara.”

He was done talking to his past. The memories of what could have been were too painful to confront after a grueling day in the clinic. “Put the realtor back on the line.”

“Hi, Mr. Calvary. What would you like to do about your, ah, ex-wife? The family is considering other properties.” The realtor’s tone was too chirper for the situation. Eli knew the woman probably felt uncomfortable having heard all his business, but it couldn’t be helped. Reality had kicked him in the teeth when Cara had packed up and left. He had no reason to spare her the bruising he still felt.

“You let that family know that the house is still on the market. Have the locks changed. And,” Eli paused, “whatever you do, do not give that woman a key.”

He wanted Cara locked out of everything that was important to him, including that awful house. She would never possess the power to hurt him again.

“Understood Mr. Calvary. Thank you,” she sighed. “Thank you so much.”

He hung up the phone, more upset than he’d been in months. A part of him said that he didn’t have to be mean to Cara, but he vibrated, his anger and disappointment a dog whistle on his eardrums. How dare she come back to him. How dare she ruin everything he had planned for their future. How dare she think his heart was still open and available to her.

Eli would be a fool to ever make himself that vulnerable.That’s when he remembered Amarie was on her way over to study with him for the upcoming licensure exam. As complementary as they were, he reminded himself not to get in too deep. Their attraction, though undeniable, required boundaries. He respected her and appreciated her business savvy. With Amarie he would never be in danger of having his heart broken. She was pretending, just like him and he would be wise to remember that in all their interactions… even when kissing was involved. Especially if kissing happened at the wedding.

Chapter Sixteen

THE DAY OFCaleb and Gracie Lou’s wedding, Amarie just about bit her tongue at the delicious sensation that zinged through all her lady parts at the sight of Eli standing next to the white stallion in the floral-strewn bridal aisle. He was clad in a black leather, pinch-front, wide-brim Stetson, had a bolo tie with a gleaming cabochon onyx stone at his throat, and his powerful long legs were displayed in fitted black jeans. Amarie smoothed her free hand down her puff-sleeved champagne maxi dress, nervous. She’d taken extra care with her hair and makeup for the wedding. Eli, used to her in her signature purple and with her glittery toes, had yet to comment on her makeover.

Today she hoped to wow him. She’d purchased the designer outfit with Russell’s credit card before the split. The Nordstrom sales associate had paired it with a chunky brushed-gold cuff bracelet and glass slipper wedge heels. She reapplied flavored nude gloss to her lips, readying her tastebuds to sop up Eli’s ice-cream kisses, not wanting to miss a single drop of his creamy goodness when it happened. If he kissed her again, which she hoped he would, she wouldliterally melt, like gummy-bear-goo-on-the-pavement melt. The thrill of attraction buzzing between them had been interesting, in a perplexing way. Mere weeks. She’d studied at his place, he’d fed her, quizzed her, but not kissed her like that first evening at his cabin.Distantwasn’t the best word to describe his hesitancy, more like restrained, as if he might burst something if they locked lips again. Amarie wanted his kisses, and this formfitting number would help her bring Eli Calvary to his knees.

Mentally she counted to sixty-nine, a distraction technique from the riotous emotions of attending a wedding while trying not to think about her own. Her phone rang. She paused what she was doing to fumble in the grassy bed where she’d dropped it. Oh great, her mom was calling again. Amarie punched the megaphone icon, engaging the phone’s audio speaker function.

“When you going to come to your senses?”

“Geez, thanks, Mom. Happy Saturday to you, too. Oh me, yeah I’m fine.” Their most recent conversation had degraded faster than a hot turd in a chemical toilet. Nasty business it had been. Though Amarie had assured her mother every night, providing updates on the job, sprinkling a few details about the Calvarys, her mom worried.

“Where are you? What’s all that noise in the background?”

“Gracie Lou’s wedding reception starts in thirty minutes. Remember the goats I told you about—”

“Ah, yes,” she chuckled. “The ones that kept vigil until Vali arrived in Service?”

“Yep, Billy, now spelled with ayinsteadie, Jean, and Diana. Well, they were in the wedding party. I’m adjusting floral wreaths for the photos. Their necks are so short.” She grinned, happy to work alongside the other women putting the finishing touches on the wedding venue for the final photos.

“Huh, sounds like a reel from America’s funniest videos. Perfect, I reached you at just the right time. Russell’s been calling your father, he’s quite serious.”

“I hope the two will be happy together, Mom.”

“Amarie Walker, you know better. I swear you have a new attitude.”

“I’m sorry, but how many times do I have to tell you, I don’t wanna hear what Russell has to say.”

“Well, I’m your mother and you need to listen. The man wants you back. Do you know how rarely this happens? That a woman can walk out on a man, and he’ll take her back. Thank your lucky star.”

“Luck? I spent years with a man who didn’t love me, Mom. Not out of luck. I was scared.” With Russell, Amarie was too scared to take a risk. Now, she was afraid not to.

“Amarie, baby,” she sighed, a tightrope of exasperation strangling her concern. “Russell admitted he can’t do without you.”

“I can certainly do without him. I love my new life.”

“Is that so, Miss Independent? Well, do you have a running car? No. Do you have your own place? No. Have you passed your exam yet? No.”

Finished with the animals, Amarie snatched up her phone, pressing the receiver to her ear. “I can’t, Mom.”

They both stayed silent, listening to the other’s ragged breaths. Waiting for the next stabbing counterattack.