Chapter Four
TO ELI’S SURPRISE, Amarie had volunteered to share in monitoring Adele’s overnight recovery. She’d slept on his office couch in between vital sign assessments and surgical site checks without complaint. This morning she’d washed up in the house, joined in the Calvary family breakfast conversation, and then waltzed into the clinic exactly fifteen minutes before it opened without so much as a glance in his vicinity. He didn’t have to tell her tardiness was not a rule he would flex on. There had to be an angle to Amarie Walker. No employee mustered her level of dedication on day one. He needed to uncover her playbook before he took a curve ball to the gonads.
His momma sidled up next to him, slipping her waterproof apron over her head. “You look well rested.”
“Yep,” he nodded.
“Having Amarie around to share the load is nice, huh?”
Refusing the bait, Eli kept quiet. The added hours of sleep he appreciated, but he’d withhold his praise till further notice.
Mrs. Kline arrived, hands wringing after a night of separation from her emotional support feline. Amarie greeted Lois with a smile, depositing a purring Adele, the traitorous chameleon, into her owner’s outstretched arms.
“She was a perfect houseguest. You trained her well,” Amarie added.
Overjoyed, the retired seamstress babbled a string of baby gibberish into Adele’s perked-up ear.
“Thank you for everything, Amarie.” Their longtime customer embraced his new hire, patting a fragile hand, fingers twisted with arthritis, in genuine gratitude on Amarie’s back for taming her normally ferocious feline into a sublime state.
“Wow,” Eli muttered. “I actually removed the growth and stitched her up.”
His momma nudged him with her elbow. “Play nice.”
“Is that an order?” Kitty Scissor Claws released a noisy purr that grated like cheap wool on Eli’s vexed nerves.
“Absolutely. Look at how happy Lois is… for a change.”
Though he hated to admit it, Amarie had remained calm while the rest of the family had scrambled for cover yesterday. He had to laugh at her comfort with his family, too. His mom seemed to enjoy having another woman around the table, something Cara, his ex, never warmed to. And the curveball that hit before he realized he needed protective padding: Amarie had offered him a bite of her biscuit. Honest to goodness, he about choked on his spit at the bare skin images that prowled around in his dirty mind. All in all, the entire scenario, from the biscuits to Amarie’s soap-bubble glee, had manipulated him into a false desperation, leading him to act out of character. Hiring a woman he wanted nowhere near him. Pretty women smelled of trouble and Amarie’s crisp apple scent fish-hooked his nose. Baited, but not reeled in. No sir.
“How long are you going to watch her?”
Technically, he could justify his behavior as helicopter bossing. In all of ten minutes, he’d led Amarie through the five-room clinic. Muted shades of blue and green, colors found in nature, covered the walls in the grooming area and utility room that banked the hallway leading from the main house into the clinic’s waiting room. Complimentary tones continued into the reception area, where a counter hid his office and the staff break room from spying eyes. Not that he had any secrets, but on the mornings he visited the large animal farms, he often changed out of dusty jeans and donned a fresh T-shirt before afternoon appointments. The women around town weren’t above posting a pic of him in his skivvies on the internet for kicks. Amarie hadn’t batted those long lashes at his non-techie patient management system or the clutter spread between his desk and the one she now occupied. Cara would have nagged until he put every slip of paper in its place to restore the room’s energy balance.
“Not watching. I’m tracking an unknown entity.” Especially since man’s best friend had abandoned his post to flop on the interloper’s sparkly toes. In another surprise move, she’d whispered what a good boy he was to keep her company.
“Right,” his mom drawled, with a slow grin dripped in mischief. “Next time, try stealth mode. She knows you’re looking.”
He still didn’t trust pretty smiles. Especially dimpled ones like Amarie’s that lit up a room, competing with the warm rays of a summer sun. He especially didn’t trust smiles that refused to produce a resume. Unless she’d totally wrecked her last employer’s bottom line, why the reluctance to prove her knowledge, skills, and abilities? In his experience, women like her, with big city–style oozing off her, loved to broadcast their credentials. So, what was she hiding? A false identity? An alter ego who preferred naked bookkeeping by candlelight? He was well aware of how ridiculous his train of thought was, yet he couldn’t stop himself from relaxing against his desk to watch her work. Maybe he’d catch her red-handed five-fingering the cash drawer.
“She’s already making improvements. The money from the auction will make things even better.”
“Stop while you have a win under your belt, Momma. She has a trial week,” he said, gesturing to Amarie. “I’m not pinning a number on my chest to parade around for a bunch of crazed women.”
Leah sighed. “Okay, but you have to admit. It’s the best Tuesday we’ve had in a while.”
“How’s that? I’d hardly call subduing one pussycat a successful day in the office.”
His momma shook her head. “You haven’t snapped at anybody since she arrived.”
“Coincidence,” he groused.
“I think Amarie is a lovely addition to the Calvary family business. With her personality and your skills, imagine what you two could accomplish with the bachelor auction money.”
“Never am I going to shake my butt for a bunch of horny women.”
His momma’s smile dropped, her lips drawn thin. Great, he’d said something wrong, but didn’t have a clue what it was. Cara said as much. He just didn’t get women, but he felt like a heel for hurting his mom.
“Everything isn’t about physical needs, Eli. Sometimes a woman just appreciates the company of a decent man.”
Longing pitched his mom’s usual upbeat voice low, a melancholy tune of love forever departed. He was a heel for not realizing how callous his offhanded comment was, and how it would remind a grieving wife that she’d lost her soulmate.
“Momma, I—I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to do anything right these days.”
His mom placed a hand on his forearm. “Stop beating yourself up. You’re doing your best. And that’s enough.”
Seems as if fate had a more stringent measuring stick than his mom. Either way, Eli’s knuckles were bruised and his kneecaps sore from the recent knockouts surrounding the business. But he’d keep the faith. Keep fighting.
“I should’ve thought before I opened my big mouth.” That was the story of his life when women were involved.
She chuckled. “True enough, but I’m your momma. You never have to be perfect or play the tough soldier. I know who you are on the inside, generous and kind.”
“It’s not that simple—”
“Don’t be afraid to show the world who you are,” she whispered.
Before he could ask for clarification, Mrs. Kline approached. “Eli, I’m sorry for taking Adele out of her cage yesterday. She just hates to be confined.”
Now that, he understood. “The signs are posted to keep us all safe, including your pet.”
She flashed him a blinding white denture smile. “I know, but Adele made a new friend with the front desk girl.”
Friends? Eli barely had time for family. The sooner Amarie learned that completed transactions and fees for services were what he wanted, the better. The trickle-down payments he made to the mortgage since returning to Service four months ago chafed worse than a leather dog collar.
“Amarie is a saint, a true saint I tell ya. Did you see the way Adele cozied up to her?”
“I noticed,” he deadpanned.
“Good thing you brought her on, Eli. She’ll help you right the ship. Make Levi proud.”
“Yep.” Eli ground his molars at the subtle dig. “Saint Amarie is heaven sent.”
“And all the way from Washington, D.C., to boot,” she hooted. “Can’t imagine leaving the big city to work with you. No offense, Eli.”
“None taken.” Plenty taken. He frowned, having learned more about his new receptionist/veterinary technician from his customer rather than personal disclosure.
“Well,” she laughed, lifting her pet carriage from the floor to place it on the counter, “business must be on the rebound. I was a bit worried when I saw you and your brothers were hiring yourselves out as gigolos.”
“What in the—”
“Lois!” His mom rushed forward, taking the soft pet carrier from the top shelf. “Let’s get Adele’s nails trimmed, so you can get home before The Price Is Right.”
Service may be a small town, but rumors ran faster than a stray through an open door. He had to find reasons to hold his head high these days. These bachelor auction shenanigans added another weight to his load.
“Oh my,” she said, looking at the faded Army Strong clock he’d gifted his father five years ago. “Look at the time.”
Eli pushed away from the wall. “What you read in the bulletin was a misprint. Dad will be proud of all the improvements I have planned for Calvary Vet and the house. Don’t you worry none. We’ll be here when you need us.”
“That’s right. I’ll be sure to tell those downtown gossips to mind their own beeswax.”
The townsfolk referred to those higher up the mountainside like the Calvarys as uptowners. Main Street and the largest of the homesteads were across Cattail Creek closer to the holler.
“You do that, Mrs. Kline.” Eli nodded, shuffling her along as fast as her orthopedic inserts would allow.
“Welcome to Service, Amarie,” she called over her shoulder.
“Thanks, Mrs. K.” His receptionist waved, her smooth arm extended high above her head.
Twenty-four hours on the job, and she was unduly familiar with the clientele. Strike one, day two. Eli didn’t like seeing that much skin on the job, either. The woman was a smiling, waving safety hazard. Painted toes and velvet soft arms, he scoffed. A laundry list of company policy addendums would have to be added. Drats, Amarie’s mere presence added more work to his, well, workload.
“Oh, I just love your posh accent,” Mrs. Kline chattered on. “So Rodeo Drive.”
Should Eli remind her Washington, D.C., was on the East Coast?
“Hate to disappoint you, Mrs. K. I’m not that fancy.” Amarie laughed.
“That ain’t what the purple BMW and the Louis Vuitton luggage says. I knew it had to be yours. All us mountain folks know better than to try to take these inclines in a luxury whip.”
What BMW? He hadn’t seen any designer suitcases. Amarie’s smile faltered. It was barely perceptible unless you were watching, and Eli was… vigilant.
“How long are you gonna be here in town?”
“As long as I need to be,” she said.
“I’d love to have you over for a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade. My homemade peach pie is the best in the county. Ask anybody.”
“I’ll let you know.”
Eli didn’t like that answer. He didn’t like uncertainty. He didn’t like change. Life required predictable patterns and hard facts. And Amarie had a bunch of question marks after her name. Like, what was she doing ringing his doorbell before eight o’clock in the morning and accepting a job that paid a dollar above minimum wage?
Crossing the room, he kept his eyes trained on Amarie as if she’d disappear. He split the aluminum blinds, the thin metal releasing a distinctive pop. Mrs. Kline’s 1976 gold Chevrolet Impala with matching carpet on the dash and his Ford pickup were in the parking lot. No purple beamer.
Eli turned and walked right up to the counter. The stranger he’d welcomed into their lives looked up at him, face drawn in trepidation.
“Where’s your car, Amarie?”
Plenty of questions stirred in his head, but he’d start here. Like what led a city girl from the big D.C. to West Virginia, deep country?
While she’d scarfed down the last strip of bacon and the biscuit with his name on it, she’d conveniently revealed little about herself. His life and that of his family’s wouldn’t teeter off the edge because he let his guard down over a gorgeous smile. Or smooth arms the color of pure hot chocolate. Or—blast, he chided himself for focusing on the wrong details.
“What’s that, boss?” She blinked rapidly, using her fluid soprano to lull him, a siren’s song that would thwack like a rock against his hard head. Darn it. He loved and hated his situation.
Eli looked her square in the eyes, not the least bit humored by the stall tactic. She could save the angel of mercy act for some fast-talking city slicker. The more he thought about it, he decided Saint Amarie had skeletons and he planned to uncover them before his family got too attached. He tried not to think about how much he’d enjoyed bantering with her across the breakfast table.
“You heard me.” Eli pointed to the parking lot, devoid of foreign automobiles. “Your car. Where is it?”
“In town.”
“Where, exactly?”
Eli had lost too much—his heart, his father, his marriage—not to protect those who relied on him most. A charming woman had derailed his life once. After the divorce, he’d vowed he would reclaim his future one day at a time, one problem at a time. He caught a flash of his cute little kitten of a receptionist transforming from happy feline to cat on a hot tin roof. And Eli planned to turn up the heat. This would be Amarie Walker’s last day on his payroll.