Chapter Sixteen
THE DAY OF Caleb 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 would literally 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. Distant wasn’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 a y instead ie, 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.
“This man is offering you an opportunity to have all of those things, yet you’re settling to attend some other woman’s wedding instead of dancing at your own. Stop being foolish and stupid. You could be Mrs. Doctor Russell Feldman.”
“And when he cheats,” Amarie shot back, “you and I both know from experience he won’t stop. When his next mistress is pregnant with his second child—what then, Mom?”
“Some men wander. It’s not the end of the world.”
“For you,” Amarie announced. “I have decided there are certain footsteps I refuse to follow. A revolving door of partners plucking my husband when he’s too restless to honor his vows to me is one of them.” She raised her voice on the last part. Billy froze, his little body rigid as stone. Perfect, Amarie was frightening the wedding guests. “A revolving-door marriage is not good enough for me, Mom. You know what I would become if I accepted what Russell is offering?” Which wasn’t much at all. “I’d be Mrs. Doctor Feldman and company. Russell is never going to stop cheating on me, don’t you know that?”
Her mom fell silent for a moment, but then asked, “Is that such a high price to pay for your own house, your own car, and access to money?”
“Do you have your own home, or do you live in Dad’s house? You’ve owned one car with your name on the title, and Dad hounded you until you gave that up.” Thank goodness she had saved enough money to buy Prince before her mother abandoned him to a dusty used-car lot. “I want a husband who loves and respects me.”
“Tell me, Amarie. Can you buy whatever you want?”
“Can you?” she snapped. A tense silence followed.
“I-I wanted you to have a better life, Amarie. If the day comes when you have the honor of being a mother, you’ll grow to understand that your children may not understand your choices, your sacrifices. Love and respect didn’t keep you fed. Love and respect didn’t pay your college tuition.”
“And I would rather starve than swallow my self-respect.” An audible gasp from the other end of the line sliced Amarie’s heart open. But she couldn’t bring herself to rescind the words.
“When I left, did your father come looking for me? No.” Her mother’s voice cracked. Amarie’s throat constricted. The old pain and fears tried to snake around her resolve, weaken her conviction. “Do you think Dr. Reid Walker called your grandmother over me? No. You know Russell has called Vali. Did your father call one of my friends? No. Look at all the effort, honey, Russell is putting into getting you back. You’re special to him.”
“Not special. Useful. There’s a difference.”
“What’s so wrong with being needed?” There was a hollow longing in her mother’s voice, the echo of years of pouring into a broken marriage without being refilled. Amarie didn’t feel the same way about Russell anymore. She didn’t feel the same way about herself. Whatever they’d shared, he’d destroyed with lies and betrayal.
“Mom, I know you’re worried, but don’t be.”
“A mother never stops worrying about her children.”
“That’s what Leah says.”
“Leah is a wise woman. This is the last time I’ll bring it up, but just consider what I’m saying. Not that you have to do what I’m suggesting. Just think about your future. I know how quick you are to put everyone before yourself. You’re attached to this shiny new place, but will you really throw away six years of time invested with Russell for a month of happiness?”
When her mom put it that way… Amarie looked to find Eli’s attention focused on her. When their gazes locked, his lips curled up into a broad smile, for her. Call her a hopeless romantic. Call her goofy. None of it could overshadow the charge of energy arcing between them. “Mom, we both have a lot to consider. I have to go. Happiness is waiting for me.”
She beckoned him forward. And guess what, after days of questions about his intentions for their partnership turning into a courtship, watching him take long, determined strides to reach her, her pulse raced. Please let him have come to his senses.
“It’s about time you got your gluteus maximus over here,” she called, when he was within hearing range.
“Name the other two muscles that comprise the buttocks and I’ll treat you to a spin on the dance floor.”
Eli took his licensure review duties seriously. During work he’d recite the questions they’d studied the night before and wait for her to answer before moving on to the next body system. She had to admit his random pop quizzes had alleviated some, if not all, of her test anxiety. Educating came as natural to him as breathing. Their online followers often commented on his instructional abilities, too. She hadn’t shared this with him, but she’d discovered another of Eli’s passions.
“Urgh,” she lamented in jest. “The medius and minimus,” she answered with hesitation. “Now can a girl get one day off from learning?”
He looped her arm in his. “Not when there’s so much I want to teach you.”
Oh, her body heated at the idea of instructing her in ways to wring out every ounce of his pent-up passion. But she’d keep the conversation PG-13… for now.
“You and Hiccup looked rather dashing in the ceremony. Why didn’t you tell me that Hiccup would be in the wedding?”
“I wanted you to be surprised when you saw Hiccup in his finest, gussied up in his tuxedo vest. I hope you took a picture for our followers. Jessie McGillacutty’s golden poodle caught his scent during the processional. He’s probably behind the barn with Cocktail’s work vest unzipped. Jessie’s pup never stood a chance.”
“Stop it. Hiccup knows how to let a lady down without causing hurt feelings.” Or leaving her confused. Eli’s recent withdrawal had definitely left her frustrated… and needy, in a hot-under-the-pearls way. Really, what kind of lunatic kissed a woman crazy and then went cold turkey. Or in her overheated state, cold shower.
“Thank you.” He wrapped her in his arms. “I have the most beautiful girl in the world smiling up at me,” he whispered in her ear.
Amarie’s legs went weak. Clearly the dress had worked its spell because she melted into Eli’s strong body.
“Don’t let the bride hear you.” She giggled. Eli rewarded her with one of his rare smiles again.
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he teased, glancing down at the empty basket he held. “Kinda like you didn’t tell me five kittens equaled your plus-one.”
“The kittens were for Phoebe to play with. Her father wasn’t going to keep her from them. Not on my watch.” Amarie had returned to the farm Friday morning, excited to share her furry bundle with Phoebe. Matt had met her at the door, scowl in place, expression grim. Ruth had taken Phoebe back home. Amarie had returned to the clinic, crestfallen. By midday, Eli and Leah had comforted her and helped to solve her problem. On account of their attending high school together, Gracie Lou had made sure to include Ruth, and Phoebe, in the wedding party. She suspected several of the ladies, Leah, Gracie Lou, Lois Kline, and Matt had created small ways to keep their eyes on the mother-daughter pair. Amarie loved them all the more for their care and concern.
Eli took her hand in his, squeezing. “Come on, superwoman. Let’s go show them how it’s done on the dance floor before I take you home.”
Normally she would refute the compliment with a string of examples of how ordinary she was. But witnessing the light brighten in Phoebe’s eyes, the whispered thank-you when Ruth had hugged her—the joy was unmatched. Except maybe by Eli’s lips on hers.
“My hero,” she preened, running her hand along his hard bicep to rest in the crook of his elbow. “And so handsome in your cowboy couture.”
“It’s not the clothes. It’s called swagger, sweetheart,” he said, placing a quick peck on her cheek. Okay, a warm-up kiss. Now, if he would just slide east to her lips.
Once the newlyweds toasted their happily ever after, Amarie inhaled two slices of the delicious apple butter pinwheel wedding cake then reapplied her nude lip gloss. Let the kissing commence. She would swirl around him like buttercream icing on sweet bread fresh from a hot oven. Gooey, sugary, lickable goodness.
Large plywood sheets had been fastened to a lattice of four-by-fours to create a dance floor overlooking Cattail Creek. Cords of lighted globes strung in a tic-tac-toe pattern hung above them, the warm glow adding to the magic of matrimony. Chucky McDaniels, who she suspected got mistaken for the famous Charlie Daniels, approached the microphone. He ran his bow across his fiddle. A dark, eerie note cut the air. He paused a beat, and then his fellow musician fired up the electric guitar, followed by the drums with a toe-tapping, soulful blend of sound.
Leah and Mr. Johnson dipped and spun beside them. “Show the city girl how the cowboys boogie, Eli,” Matt grinned, giving Amarie’s a suggestive wink.
Leah waved. “Amarie might teach you a new step, son. You two just have fun.”
“You remember the Watermelon Crawl line dance?” Eli called, his hand a heated mass at the small of her back. Turned out Eli had a knack for rhythm. He’d twirled her on the dance floor with fluid grace. Plenty of spins, dips, and two-steps happened that night. And she softened like chocolate fondue whenever he stepped close.
“How could I forget? That’s the night I discovered homemade pickles and Gery the gerbil prelaunched our TikTok campaign.” The Black Bear regulars had been enthusiastic in their support of the bachelor auction and spreading the word. They already had over five thousand new followers. The daily bid totals had increased, too. She and Eli were one step closer to achieving their mutually beneficial goal. But a little voice in her brain asked a question she had refused to answer: Could she leave Service if her career called for a relocation when so much of what she held dear resided right here in this tiny mountain town?
“Yes. Lead the way.”
“Daddy, no. Please don’t take them.”
That was Phoebe’s tiny voice. Amarie stilled in Eli’s arms. The music faded. The compulsion to defend and help those in need, especially a child, superseded personal happiness. After growing up in a home watching her mother bullied day after day, her self-preservation skills were honed. She wanted to protect Phoebe for the eleven-year-old little girl who had needed a champion. If she could save Phoebe, just maybe she was on the path to saving herself. Amarie’s entire body shook. Or maybe it was her courage roaring to life after a long hibernation. Before she registered the next action step, her feet carried her in the direction of the growing chaos taking place on the wooden bleachers.
Eli bellowed to her. “Amarie. Slow down.”
She ignored him, just like the father ignoring the sobs of his wife and daughter. Memories of the little girl she’d been, the one without a savior, armed her for this battle. Time stopped for no one, but she could stop this tragedy from happening for this one child. The scene unfolding before the wedding party and town folks rocked Amarie to her core.
“No. No,” Phoebe cried, clutching Formerly to her chest.
“Give me that kitten, you hear me, girl?”
“Bucky, please don’t do this,” Ruth pleaded, her hand grappling with her husband and the kitty he held aloft. “She’s your daughter. Just let her play with them.”
Eli grabbed Amarie from behind, pulling her to a stop. “Let me handle this.”
“But—”
Eli’s thinned his lips. “I got this.”
“Fine,” she huffed. “But I will bite him.”
He chuckled. “Got it, Mama Bear.”
They approached the Buchanans, with the others standing by to assist.
“Put the kittens in the basket, Bucky.”
The man spun on his heel to face Eli, swaying, but he didn’t fall. He held Raspberry, Graffiti, Artist, and Formerly in his grimy hands, thick dirt under his nails. Amarie frowned as the stench of days-old musk and corn liquor assaulted her delicate nose. Which said a lot since she worked in an animal clinic. The kittens didn’t seem to appreciate escalating tension, meowing, Help me, help me, please. Well, that was a bit of a dramatic interpretation on her part. But either way, they clawed at their captor’s brutish forehead with gusto.
“Wh-what are you gon-na do ta stop me, Eli?” Bucky drew his words out at odd intervals, the syllables swerving off-road before crashing in a slur of extra sss and iis. “You a lover and a fighter, now?”
Eli towered over Bucky. Did the man seriously want this to get physical? Noah had opted out of the wedding, choosing to attend the bachelor party only. Tobias, well, he’d decided to work so the others could enjoy the festivities. Even without his brothers, by the stern expression of the other men flanking the family, including the minister, Eli had a calvary if it came to blows.
Eli released an audible sigh. “Ruth, you and Phoebe come over here.”
Bucky spit a glob of tobacco at Eli’s boots. A string of tinted saliva dribbled down his chin.
“You and the brat stay put, Ruth,” he snarled, a clear and present threat in his tone.
Eli didn’t say a word. He clamped one hand on Bucky’s shoulder. The other man winced but said nothing. When he tried to wiggle free, Eli’s knuckles visibly blanched.
“Put the kittens in the basket,” Eli enunciated, thrusting the grass-woven carrier at Bucky.
Reluctant but compliant, he deposited each kitten in the carrier. “This ain’t right, you interfering between a husband and wife.”
Eli gave him a rag doll shake. “What ain’t right is you believing Ruth and Phoebe don’t have options. Our door. Matt’s door is always open to them. The woman loves you. I respect that. But she has options if she ever wants to leave your hind parts in the rearview mirror.”
“Sure does,” Amarie said, walking right up to Ruth and wrapping her in a big hug. Several of the wedding attendees affirmed Eli’s statement with a concert choir of Yep. Ain’t that the truth. We got your back, Ruth!
“Give the basket to your daughter, Bucky.” Eli’s tone made it clear that if Bucky made the wrong decision, he’d suffer the consequences.
Stiff and shaky, the father handed the basket to Phoebe. “Here you go, kid.”
Phoebe added a wide-eyed Formerly to the bunch before taking the gift.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
Amarie pushed back tears. How could a father intentionally hurt the family who loved him this much? Gosh, Eli could have humiliated the man. Instead, he chose to lead him to the right answer. Be a better man for his family. Hopefully, years from now, Phoebe would remember the good parts, that her father had chosen her happiness over his selfish need to punish them.
Matt came forward, taking Bucky by the arm.
“I’ll make sure this fella gets home safe and sound. You and your woman go on back to having fun.” Eli nodded and released his grip. Bucky sagged in relief.
“Come here, my fearless girlfriend.”
And oh boy, her, fearless? And did he say girlfriend aloud? She hoped that was a prophetic word. Like really, speak a new Amarie into existence.
Eli gestured, crooking his finger in Amarie’s direction, but before she could comply, he entered her atmosphere, tall, dark, solid, a mountain protecting her from any storm. Amarie felt Eli everywhere. Their minds melded, their bodies blended into one of those sensual man-woman sculptures of soft curves, hand and hand, hip to hip, impossible to distinguish a beginning or an end, infinite.
“You were amazing,” she mouthed, inhaling him in. His warmth soaked beneath her skin bringing with it rich notes of churned earth and mountain breeze over cool waters. “The whole ‘put the kittens in the basket,’ so gangsta. I still have goose bumps.”
“Stop talking,” he whispered, lifting his fingers to push one of her errant curls behind her ear. “You’re like a shield-maiden of women and children. But when your boyfriend says he’s got you, I got you. No more charging into battle without me.”
“Hmm, as a shield-maiden—your words, not mine—I make no promises. You’ll just have to stay ready,” she quipped, meeting his eyes. A gasp escaped her parted lips at what she saw there. Protection. Promises. Passion.
“Duly noted,” he whispered, and then he pressed his lips to hers.
“Finally,” she sighed into his mouth. His taste exploded on her tongue, dark, rich, and spiced. Whistles and “put a ring on it” catcalls seemed to spur Eli on. With one hand, he angled her head, and with the other, he gave her bottom a quick squeeze.
If she described their first kiss as thorough, this one moved mountains. Yes, insides liquefied, rivers overflowed, and she moaned in satisfaction. As Eli deepened the kiss, caressing her tongue with his, Amarie wanted to rip her own panties off. Really, why even wear the things when she wanted to cavewoman cub him and drag him back to her lair?
“Amarie,” someone called, “heads up.” When she broke away from Eli, dazed and swimming in a dopamine fog, a bouquet of golden sunflowers separated by white and yellow daisies was about to hit her in the head. Geesh, who’s ill-timed idea was this? Gracie Lou’s of course. Though she appreciated the sentiment, she’d much rather keep kissing her prince. Her first instinct was to back up, but then she stepped forward, both arms extended. Spreading her fingers wide, she reached for the symbol of good things to come. The satin ribbon hooked on her thumb.
“Yay,” the women cheered. “Amarie and Eli sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s—”
She looked at Eli, smiling, and he didn’t turn away. Reminiscent of The Lion King, Amarie raised the fragrant bundle high, balanced in both hands. “I-be-a-winner,” she sang aloud in the Circle of Life cadence.
Caleb, the happy groom, called to all the party people from beneath the white satin-wrapped pavilion. Once he had their attention, he raised a full mug in toast. “Come on, folks; it’ll take more than one Bucky to break up our good time. Y’all, just look at the cat-that-ate-the-canary-grin on Eli.” Caleb drank from his mug before continuing. “You saved us from having to take Bucky behind the barn to put him out of his misery. It’s me and Gracie’s wedding day, and we’re putting our money on Eli’s city girl to win his hand in the bachelor auction.”
That would be a miracle considering Amarie wasn’t a registered bidder in the auction. How fair would it be if his pretend partner won the auction instead of a woman Eli might genuinely be interested in for the long-term? Their arrangement had a finite date, sort of, indirectly. Though she had to admit, this fake partnership involved real feelings. And she wasn’t alone in a breach of their agreed-upon policy.
A chorus of heck yeahs, hee haws, and me toos rang out. Next thing she knew, she and the flowers were in Eli’s arms. Warm and, dare she think it, desired.
“That’s enough singing,” he whispered in her ear, swaying as the band started up with a slow dance song of lovers and turned-down lights. “We’ve got more kissing to do.”
Indeed, they did.