Page 48 of Fake It Till You Make It

“Do you promise Gery will be okay?”

“I can’t make any promises, buddy, but I’ll do the best that I can.”

His mom hugged her little boy and led him away.

“Good gracious, Amarie. You sent an eight-year-old off for field delivery supplies?”

“Sorry, labor and delivery popped into my head.” She shrugged.

“Don’t apologize. It was quick thinking to get them both away.”

“I’m kind of nervous,” she whispered, while layering extra dinner napkins on the tabletop as a makeshift surgical area. “You?”

Flipping the disc upside down, he studied the back panel. Maybe Gery, or parts from Gery, would be visible. No such luck. Several onlookers had gathered around the table.

He lowered his ear to the metal backplate, listening. A soft squeaking, barely audible, came from inside. Gerbils tended to thump their hind legs when stressed. With the tight inner circuitry, perhaps that wasn’t possible.

“The last thing I need is blood and guts all over the table.” With the use of the multipurpose tool, he began the task of disassembling the vacuum, careful to minimize jostling. He released each screw, listening for movement. He heard nothing. Beneath his fingers, not the slightest vibration. A collective silence stilled the air like rust settled in a hinge. Eli began to sweat. Breath held, he removed the backing. Out popped an onyx-eyed rodent, his yellow coat dusted and powdered in Founding Fathers’ white puffs. His lungs reinflated as he completed a rapid assessment on a wiggling, nose-twitching Gery. Cheers went up.

“Yay, Eli and his girlfriend saved the gerbil,” someone out of sight offered up to the gossip mill.

“Oh boy,” Timmy pushed through the crowd to embrace Amarie. “I’m sorry to ruin your first date.”

“Not my girlfriend,” Eli corrected, handing the pet to a wide-eyed, exuberant Ezra. “My business partner.” His temptation.

“Don’t be, Timmy.” Amarie rolled her eyes in his direction. “Eli and I fight like cats in water. You just be sure to bring Gery by the clinic for a full examination.”

Amarie had worked in the bottom line. Noah was right. The woman had a head for business ownership.

“Huh, you sure about the not dating him?” Timmy’s brows pinched. “’Cause Matt Johnson told Lois Kline you and Eli were pretty cozy up at the farm. And you are sharing chicken fingers on Hoedown Thursday. Looks like romance to me. Both my older boys were born nine months after my Luke won the pie-eating contest at the fall festival.”

“Intriguing,” Amarie replied in regard to the disclosure, “but no.”

Prudence from the other night sashayed over in a short blue denim skirt with matching silver-studded boots. “Why should I keep bidding on you if you’re already Lady-and-the-Tramp spaghetti-kissing over a chicken finger basket, Eli Calvary?”

“That’s our cue,” Timmy said, waving farewell while ushering Erza, Gery, and her deconstructed robot vac away. “Welcome to Service, Amarie.”

“Lady and the… is that supposed to make sense, Prudence?” Eli sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Amarie said we’re not an item.” But he thought they got along better than two cats in a bag or whatever ill-reference she’d used to describe their relationship.

Prudence watched him for a second, as if weighing the truth of the matter.

“Well, in that case,” she slapped him on the shoulder, “I’ll put another twenty dollars on you come my paycheck, honey dumpling.”

“Prud,” Eli started, irritation coloring his words, “you have got to stop calling me honey. Biscuit. And dumpling. Eli serves me right fine.”

“Okay, sugar.” She winked. “I mean Eli.”

Jimmy, one of the firefighters who worked with Noah and Caleb, strutted over from the bar where a pack of guys watched from afar. “If she’s your business partner, Eli, can I take the new lady for a Watermelon Crawl on the dance floor?”

“Sorry, Jimmy. You’ll have to find your own partner. I promised to teach her the ropes.”

“Will you?” Amarie whispered, as if she doubted his word.

Eli took her by the hand, leading them onto the dance floor.

“You’re wonderful, Eli. What you did for Erza.” She looked up at him, those soulful brown eyes soft in wonder, and for a heartbeat he saw himself through her eyes. Pride, real and tangible, swept through him.

He pulled her into his arms. “Thanks.” He swallowed against the urge to whisk her away to the cool grass outside his cabin, feel the night air sweep along soft curves warmed by his hands. “Let’s dance.”