Page 13 of Fool Me (Timberline Peak #1)

Everything she’s saying makes sense. And I can empathize with not wanting to be known as the bitter ex.

Beyond her reasons, I have my own motives for wanting to do this, and if I look like a fool at the end of this, it’s going to do more harm than good.

“I hate that I have to ask, but do you still have feelings for him?”

She folds in on herself, turning her upper half toward the river, giving me her shoulder. She didn’t just dislike that question—it hurt. When I reach out, taking her chin between my fingers and forcing her to face me, the glare she gives me cuts deep.

“I need to know. There’s a lot on the line here for me too.”

“How could you think that after everything I told you?” Despite her posture, her voice is hard.

I soften at the tone. “I don’t want to, but I don’t exactly have a good track record with women where my brother is concerned.”

“Your ex.”

“My ex,” I confirm. “Finding them together . . . it really fucked me up.” I look down at my hand, running the pad of my thumb over my crooked ring finger. I hold it up for her to see. “I broke this finger when I punched the steering wheel after. At the time, it seemed better than the alternative.”

“Which was?” she asks, cautiously.

“Breaking my brother’s nose in the sheriff’s house—screaming at both of them.

I was so hurt and angry, but I was also embarrassed that I was such a fool and had given him so many chances.

Mortified that I could mean so little to the first girl I loved.

I drove straight from there to Ray’s house.

He splinted my finger and I left town because I hated how toxic they made me feel.

I hated myself for the person they turned me into.

Seeing them, whether they were together or not .

. . I was afraid I’d become like him. That I’d lose myself to the rage and stop caring about right and wrong. ”

“That’s understandable. Leaving felt like a way to save yourself.”

I nod.

“And what about now, are you over her?”

“I am. Fiona, and the ex-girlfriend I left behind in Houston. But I don’t want to feel that kind of embarrassment again.

And look, I get that this is fake—we don’t even really know each other—but using me to one-up my brother, and using me to get him back are two different things. I won’t do the second.”

“I get it,” she says, turning her body back toward me.

“But what Canyon and I had wasn’t love, and what he did was unforgivable.

I could never be with him again after . .

. everything. What happened between us was one thing, but after the avalanche, I couldn’t ignore the looks that everyone was giving me to see if I’d crack under the pressure. ” Her laugh is bitter.

There’s no doubt in mind that she means it—anger is the only thing she feels for Canyon. “Okay, I’m in.”

“Okay,” she echoes. “I’m just petty enough to enjoy rubbing my relationship with his much hotter older brother in his face.”

“Is that so?”

“Why, Doc? Are you too evolved to relish in seeing his face turn red when you claim me in front of him?”

“Not in the slightest. Listen, I’m not interested in people digging too deeply into my past either.

And beyond that, there wasn’t really a transition due to how quickly I had to take over the practice, so people didn’t get the chance to sit with the news before I came back and I’ve been taking the heat for that.

Being linked to you gives me an edge, it makes people believe I’m here to stay.

You’re part of this community more than I am, and that can’t hurt with winning people over so that I don’t tarnish everything Ray has built.

” I pause, letting her process. “But no, I’m definitely not too evolved.

” Holding out my coffee, I tap it to hers.

“To being petty together, and making everyone think we are falling madly, stupidly in love.”

With our reasons solidified we approach the river bank side by side to plan how we are going to pull this off.

She points to the rock.

I shrug off the flannel I grabbed early this morning when I was doing chores outside in the chilly morning air and set it on the face of the rock. “That dress is too pretty to get dirty.”

Her mouth goes slack but she takes a seat, leaning back on the rock, basking in the sun and stretching her legs out. “So, we get to know each other, let people see us together, acting like a couple. What else does a fake relationship require?”

“We should probably get our story straight. Simple might be best—close to the truth so there’s less to keep track of.

We met when Echo was brought in, spent the night in the clinic together, and started seeing each other.

” I look over at Harlowe, trying not to stare, and failing. “It’s new, but promising.”

She nods along, adding, “We didn’t know about our connection through Canyon when we met, it came out later.”

That makes me pause, but it’s probably in our best interest. Still, I don’t like the idea that my fake girlfriend might not be fake dating me if she knew I was her ex’s brother. And I don’t know why that bothers me.

“Yeah, okay.”

Harlowe swallows another sip of her latte. “Do you have any big events coming up that a girlfriend would come to?”

“Not right now. We should probably be seen together around town, like today.” Her question sparks another that I have to ask before I agree to this scheme. “But how long are we doing this for? Until you get the job?”

“Or until he does.” Her lips pull down at the corners and I want to chase that frown away.

“You’ll get it.”

“We don’t know that.”

No, I guess we don’t, but I want to believe that Canyon won’t win this time. That, at some point, his past has to catch up with him. “What about you? Need a handsome, boyfriend-esque escort to any events?”

“Actually, I do. My best friend is getting married in a few weeks, but I know that’s kind of a big ask. It’s in California where I grew up.”

Her smile bursts across her face, too bright to ignore.

“You must be excited to go home and see her,” I say.

“Always. Plus, she had a baby two weeks ago.” She sighs. “I can’t wait to meet him . . . to see her as a mom.” She’s wistful and soft as she talks about them.

Getting away from the clinic isn’t easy, but I’ll make it work because I want more of this version of her.

“Could we make it a long weekend?” I ask. “I just need a little time to rearrange the schedule.”

“Really?” she asks with real excitement over the fact that I’m considering it.

“Really,” I confirm.

“It’s Friday through Sunday—they’re keeping it short and simple. Her fiancé, Xavier, just retired, but a few of his friends still play for the Denver Bandits, so they planned it for when there’s a break between West Coast games to make it easier for them to get there.”

All the pieces click into place and my mouth falls open. “Wait, your friend is marrying Xavier Kingsley?!”

She tilts her back, looking at the sky, before meeting my gaze again. “You’re not going to be weird about this, are you?” Her husky voice holds the same flirty tone as earlier, having moved on from talking about our pasts.

I clear my throat unconvincingly. “No, of course not.” I’m totally going to be a little weird. The man is a damn legend, and the Bandits are currently stacked with future Hall of Famers.

“Because I might reconsider taking you?” She arches one perfect eyebrow.

“Not even a little weird . . . but is Dom Duran going to be there?”

She laughs. “Jesus. You’re going to be such a fanboy, aren’t you?”

“Probably.” I nod. “Just a little. But in an endearing way. Doesn’t matter, you have to take me or people will think there’s trouble in paradise.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, you can come.”

So fucking sassy.

“And when this is all over, how do we split amicably? Because if this is going to work in our favor, we can’t have a messy breakup.”

“That would negate everything,” she agrees. “We could say we’re better off friends.”

“But the sex was great.”

“Was it?” Her eyes drag down my body, and it feels like she can see right through the unaffected mask I try to put on. It’s like being under a microscope, and if she looks any closer she’s going to notice all the blood rushes toward my crotch at just the idea of sex with her.

I clear my throat. “Of course. You were there for that kiss. There’s no way the sex wouldn’t be great . . . hypothetically.”

She stares at me, and I have to bite my tongue to stop the word vomit.

Harlowe hides behind her coffee cup. “Maybe. I guess we’ll never know, since this is fake.”

I swallow, my throat dry. “Yeah, guess not.”

“Okay, other than the great-sex clause, is there anything else we need to add to the break-up agreement?”

“Nope.”

“I think we have a plan.”

“I think we do. Shall we shake on it?”

Kissing on it sounds better, but after my sex tangent, that feels dangerous. Nevermind, there’s no plausible reason to kiss her, considering we’re alone on the riverbank, other than the fact that she looks really damn kissable.

She was right about the chemistry, at least we won’t have to fake that part.