Page 12 of Fool Me (Timberline Peak #1)
CHAPTER
EIGHT
ATLAS
Meeting for coffee in the heart of Summit Square was the worst idea I could come up with. The blame lies solely on the fact that there was no blood left in my brain to come up with a more inconspicuous plan after that kiss.
There’s a chance Harlowe won’t even show up—that she regrets our kiss last night. Although, she doesn’t strike me as a woman who acts rashly. Once she commits, I imagine she’s all in. Just like she was last night when her fingers sunk into my hair and she pulled me to her.
Her plan might have been half-baked, but that kiss was not. It was hotter than it had any right to be considering she did it out of spite, jealousy . . . I’m honestly not sure what her motive was—something I plan to sort out this morning.
Last night replays in my head as I wait at one of the pink picnic tables, just like it has for the last twelve hours.
I should have known better than to stop in when I saw that powder blue paint job.
Considering how heated I was after dinner with my family, going straight home would’ve been the safer option.
But when I walked into Jude’s and spotted her across the bar, there was that damn pull to her I couldn’t ignore.
Something about her smirk and tough exterior is like catnip for me.
She’s trouble and I’m a glutton for punishment.
I didn’t expect to lay my trauma bare for her, right there, in the middle of the packed bar.
And I certainly didn’t expect her to kiss me.
What I can’t get over is why a kiss just for show has taken up every spare thought.
All I’ve been able to think of since is doing it again—just to see if it’s as good the second time.
For fuck’s sake, the woman wants me to be her fake boyfriend.
The level of petty she’s asking me to be is tantamount to declaring war on my brother.
I might be seen as the responsible Kane brother, but with Canyon being back and Harlowe giving me those big, sky-blue, pleading eyes—I’m feeling impulsive.
If she tells me this is all a ploy to make my brother jealous, our little game is going to be over before it gets started—that’s my hard line.
Using each other to avoid the fallout from Canyon is one thing.
Being used so she can make him jealous because she still has feelings for him would be something else entirely.
A group of women my mom’s age walk past, sitting together at the table next to mine.
Everyone is out enjoying the farmer’s market; I couldn’t have picked a worse place to do this.
If there’s any hope of fooling the town into thinking Harlowe and I are together, we can’t be overheard plotting how to do it.
I’m about to pull out my phone and check the time when I spot Harlowe stepping off the curb in front of Gear Up and Get Out—the sporting goods store.
Her pale blue sundress ripples around her hips and her long hair blows behind her in the slight summer breeze as she checks for traffic before jogging across the street to the park where Powderline Donuts is.
Hot damn, she’s pretty.
Long tan legs eat up the space between us and I wonder if they’re as smooth as they look. She’s wearing a smile that doesn’t look like regret when she stops in front of me, holding out her hand.
“A good boyfriend would know my coffee order and be waiting for me with it,” she teases quietly when I stand to join her.
“Noted.” I laugh. “Maybe if you had let me make you coffee before you left the other morning, I would know,” I say loud enough that I’m sure the table next to us hears.
Those pretty blues turn into saucers and pink crawls up her chest. And I think I enjoy making my brazen, fake girlfriend blush. It’s exhilarating. Harlowe is bold, beautiful, unforgivingly herself and making her nervous is a rush.
She leads me to the line in front of the donut truck, but instead of standing next to her, I pull her to my front, wrapping my arms around her from behind.
Bringing my lips to her ear, I steal some of her confidence in this plan and whisper, “I hope that wasn’t crossing the line, but it’s crowded as hell down here this morning.
If we’re doing this, we need to sell it, starting now. ”
She tilts her head, lips curved into a brilliant smile. “It was diabolical, and it worked. They heard you.”
I nod, my stubble brushing against her heated face. “I’m not good at being the dramatic brother, but after we get our coffee, we can walk down by the river and come up with a plan—a story, whatever.”
“I like sweet drinks. Honey-lavender lattes are my weakness,” she says when the teen in front of us steps forward.
“I’m an Americano kind of guy.”
“Not black coffee, I’m surprised,” she says, craning her neck to look up at me. Her eyes are filled with the kind of mischief I’ve come to fear, but on her, it’s a good reckless. A measured amount, a safe amount—hell, maybe even a fun amount.
“I might have been born in Wyoming, but after eight years in Houston, I learned some things.”
“Like an appreciation for fancy coffee? I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks.”
“Old?” I scoff, folding over her so I can see her face better. She’s flirting with me, teasing and poking. It’s easy and forgetting what this is would be so easy. “How old are you that you’re calling me old?”
“I’m just a spring chicken at thirty. You’re practically ready to be put out to pasture next to me.” We’re still speaking in hushed tones, and to onlookers, it probably seems sweet.
Heat gallops through my veins at the thought of proving her wrong and showing her how much energy and stamina I have. “Or maybe I’m like a barrel-aged bourbon—decadent, complex, refined. For all you know, I’d be the best thing you’d ever tasted.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath before I add, “If I were bourbon, that is.”
We step forward, Marcy’s eyes bugging out when she spots us, like she just got the scoop on the town gossip before anyone else.
“Morning, Doctor Altas. Harlowe. This is new.”
“Kind of,” Harlowe says with an indifferent shrug.
“Can we get an Americano and a honey-lavender latte, please?” I release Harlowe, stepping up alongside her and fishing out my wallet.
“Both iced?” Marcy asks.
“Yeah, that’s good for me,” Harlowe confirms.
“Same here,” I add.
Marcy points between us. “You know, this is cute. I think I like it.”
Untamed laughter starts in Harlowe’s belly as her lips spread in a wide grin. “Glad you approve.”
Damn, she’s captivating. Even knowing this is all a lie, I’m convinced she’s enjoying every second of it. And I can see how she and Canyon ended up together. She’s got this bright, dazzling exterior with a cutting center. Witty, maybe a little dark. She’s dynamic and interesting.
When our coffees come out, we walk past the pink picnic tables to head toward the river that sits along the backside of the ski resort, giving guests at the lodge a stunning view and the occasional chance of moose sightings.
Luckily, the riverbank is empty aside from us. Harlowe sits on a boulder embedded into the soil along the water’s edge and I join her.
“That’s my place right there.” She points to a purple house across the river and up the opposite bank.
A fish jumps, sending ripples through the water as I take it in.
The eclectic cottage can’t be more than five hundred square feet.
Somehow, it suits her—whimsical and one of a kind.
“Purple is my favorite color . . . in the spirit of getting to know one another.”
“Noted. I’m partial to anything earthy.” There’s a beat of silence I’m not quite sure how to fill.
Do I ask her about her favorite food or movie?
“How do you see this working? Beyond coffee orders and now favorite colors, we don’t really know each other.
Convincing the whole town that we’re in love is going to take more than that. ”
“We get to know each other. Same way we would if it were real.” Her gaze shifts, the only hint that she’s not entirely sure. “It’s not like we lack chemistry.”
So she felt it too. “Is that so?”
“Stop. Don’t be a shitgoblin—that’s your brother’s job.”
Ah, there it is, the storm rolling in that neither of us is talking about. It’s the one thing that could derail this.
“Remind me again why you want to do this?”
She chews her plump bottom lip, her eyes soften, and I see fear swimming in the blue of them.
“He’s coming after my future—my peace. I earned the Incident Commander job with the time and work I’ve put in.
Beyond that, and my education, it’s my legacy.
My dad had the job before . . . and he just wants to waltz in and take it all, disrupting my entire life.
And truthfully, I’m afraid he might be able to.
Search and rescue is still a male-dominated field, and despite your brother’s many faults, he’s still mostly well-liked.
He smiles, opens his mouth to let the bullshitting and ass-kissing flow, and everyone forgets the times he was a crap team member, or the promises he broke. ”
“He gets chance after chance and all he does is waste them,” I agree.
“Exactly. I just want one chance, but he’s one of the guys.
If anyone thinks that I’m still hung up on him .
. .” She blows out a breath, making the hair that’s fallen in her face flutter.
“It’ll hurt my chances even more. It won’t matter that I’m more qualified or a better leader.
I’ll be the bitter ex with an axe to grind.
And instead of looking at my qualifications, they’ll question whether my emotions will get in the way of the job, or speculate that I’m trying to get him back. No one will take me seriously.”