Page 88 of Fake It Till You Make It

“Eli, trust me. It’s all you. Your authentic self made the hashtag a viral sensation. Your advice. Your personality.”

He nodded. “We’ll have the money we need tomorrow. Mission accomplished, Amarie.”

“But—but this could be a new mission. What about helping the town raise money for a clinic? A library? Senior center?”

“Whoa. Whoa. How about we say job well done and get down to the real discussion? My ex-wife. I’m sorry you and your mother overheard the showdown with Cara. I forgot to use my boyfriend voice.”

She rested her head on his very broad, and at the moment bare, shoulder. “That’s because your ex-husband howl was in order.”

He’d totally changed the subject. Normally she would object, but since she wanted to talk about the very same thing, why not walk through the door he’d opened?

“Sorry our celebration plans were ruined with Cara’s drama. I’ll make it up to you and Bethany tomorrow,” Eli whispered, placing the half-empty bottle on the floor before wrapping her up in both arms.

“And Russell. Tomorrow sounds good. But after I show my mom the Johnson farm. She wants to walk the grounds where her daughter birthed a calf. We might venture further uptown to the waterfall.”

Eli nipped her side. “It was a foal. And you helped. Reception is terrible that high up. I’m not sure I’ll survive with you so far away. How long does she plan to be in town?”

“Fun fact. Mom has decided she’s not returning to Florida. She’s finally found the strength to leave my dad.”

Eli frowned. “It would tear me up inside if my parents had split up.”

“Huh, it had to be nice growing up with both parents who actually don’t bring verbal ammunition to the breakfast table.”

“Can’t say I remember any weaponry served with the biscuits.”

“I held it against her, you know? Staying with him. But now I know she sacrificed for me. My mom deserves happiness, a safe place to heal, to find herself. I don’t want her to waste any more time in a marriage where she’s disrespected and mistreated. She deserves more than what she’s gotten in this life.”

“Well, she has you. I think that’s pretty fantastic.”

Her tank top rode up, revealing nothing but smooth skin. His fingers teased, alternating beneath soft and firm caresses.

“Right you are. Did I mention how good you are at this boyfriend stuff?”

“Not today.” He grinned.

“Hands down. You check all the boxes, Eli Calvary. But why are you deliberately aggravating my tickle zone?” she asked, releasing a breathy moan.

“I’m very interested in where you want me to put my hands, sweetheart.” The noise that rumbled through his chest triggered an instant response in all the right places. “So, when you say words like ‘zones’ and ‘boxes,’ all husky and low, it gets me to thinking about finding new erogenous areas in the nine abdominal quadrants.”

“Oh, is this dirty talk for nurses? Sign me up for more, sexy.”

“Registered nurse foreplay.” He laughed. “A reward forhandling today like pro.” He ran his tongue along her jaw, and Amarie released another moan. Very porn star, which matched her responsive nipples.

“About that.”

“Yeah,” he prompted, between enjoyable kisses.

After the mental gymnastics, which she’d failed miserably at, of processing that she’d actually delivered Eli’s ex to his doorstep, she wanted to reverse course, take the porcelain-skinned princess over to Matt Johnson’s farm for Harry the horse to rip out her honey-colored hair by the roots.

“Why is Cara still here?” She winced at the abrupt delivery. Not the smooth transition she aimed for, but it would have to suffice.

“Apparently, her boyfriend, Sven, whose real name is Steven, took advantage of her. Tricked her out of my money.” His chuckle, tight and humorless, resonated through the hand she lay on his chest. “The house in Virginia, she wants it. She claims she doesn’t have a place to go.”

Amarie sucked in a breath, but the memories of that year living in Prince’s back seat bit and slashed through her resolve to banish Cara, with all haste, beyond the boundaries of Service.

“Hmm… are you considering it?”

“Nope. She’ll be gone tomorrow. No muss. Not a fuss.”