Page 82 of Fake It Till You Make It

“Ah… thank you,” Leah said looking to them for direction. “I think…”

Amarie bit her lowered lip, trapping the building tide of laughter in her throat.

Russell, the pompous ass, seemed to be tallying up the value of the Calvary estate, his beady brown eyes flitting like insect wings from the antique detailing surrounding the wall sconces, to the ornate crown molding framing of the ceiling, to the wainscoting beneath the mahogany chair rail. “How much you pay for all this?”

“Oh my god, Russell.” Amarie hung her head, embarrassment breathing on her neck, like the old drunk guy in the night club. Just foul. “That’s just rude.”

“What?” he crowed, talking with his mouth full.

Was that lettuce between his teeth? He looked like a rabbit on a feeding frenzy. How had she thought this man was out of her reach? Talk about distance shining a spotlight onperspective. This man hadrudeandentitledstitched into his high-waisted briefs.

First, how dare he expect her mother to pick up where Amarie had left him high and dry? Russell had profited from her labor, but he was too selfish to invest the money into building a more profitable business. Any guilt Amarie harbored at hiding his website and deleting his social handles vanished. Furthermore, Russell wasn’t a fledging or distressed businessman. Nope, he just wanted to use Amarie and Bethany because he believed he had a right to exploit their talents.

Her mother had supported her father’s practice in the early years of their marriage, serving as his orientation and training manager. Amarie realized she had imitated her mother’s example, the supportive and dutiful partner, but had diverted to a road less traveled when she landed in Service. No way would she ever consider returning to the life she’d had with Russell. In fact, she hadn’t had any life at all. She existed to make his life easier at the expense of her own hopes and dreams.

Now he felt entitled to disrespect the one person who helped Amarie to see her worth.

Standing to her feet, Amarie released a weighted sigh. “Russell, you’re done here. Time for you to leave.”

“Leave?” he scoffed, dusting his palms together, depositing crumbs on Leah’s polished hardwood floors.

“You’re making a mess,” Amarie hissed. “Where did you lose your manners?”

“It’s just food, Amarie.” He shrugged. “Since when did you develop discerning tastes?”

“When I left you in D.C. Where you should’ve stayed,” she said with emphasis.

“Oh,” he mocked, stepping off his invisible high horse.“I see what’s happening. You think you’re something here in Who-ville and can say anything to me? We both know you can’t cut it in the city, that’s why you’re hiding out in tiny town USA.”

“You don’t get to tell me who I am. If I’m the one hiding, why are you hunting for me? Did I call, text, or write sending for you?”

His mouth opened and closed with a squeak of sound.

“Exactly. I didn’t send for you, so there was no need to come for me.”

He chuckled, an attempt to distract from the rising color spreading from beneath the polo collar, like shark chum.

“Bethany. You need to talk to your daughter. I drove to Florida to pick you up, so you could do your job to get her back where she belongs.”

Amarie opened her mouth to defend her mother, but Leah gave a subtle nod to keep quiet. Obviously, there was some nonverbal, mother-to-mother communication happening that Amarie had missed because Bethany gave a smile of approval. To have the two most important women in her life stand united at her side meant the world to Amarie.

Bethany placed her glass on a coaster before meeting this arrogant man’s gaze. “I didn’t ask you to come to my home.”

“No,” he snapped, trying to track his fingers through locks gelled within an inch of life support. “Your husband did. Because he understands you and your daughter can’t come up with the right answer unless it’s told to you.”

Amarie released an audible gasp.

Her mother looked unmoved by Russell’s hurtful comment.

“No sir,” Leah rasped. “This is my house. Bethany, Amarie, say your goodbyes to this fella.” To Russell she said, “I’m going to get my rolling pin. It’ll be aimed in your direction.If you don’t want a knot on that inflated head, you best be gone.”

“Russell,” Bethany called, “we are guests in Mrs. Calvary’s home. Please temper your stupidity.”

“Are you threatening me with kitchenware?” Russell laughed.

Leah smiled. “Nope. I’m promising to tenderize your backside before turning you over to my boys.”

Russell stiffened. Leah’s gentle tone had delivered a mighty hammer. Her tone said she had the manpower to back up her words.