Page 18 of Fool Me (Timberline Peak #1)

“You had other priorities. Besides, I was still in middle school when you moved to college. But no, Drake lives everywhere except here. And Trace is in L.A. They’re local disappointments, just like you.

” My friend rolls her eyes over how ridiculous that notion is.

But the Timberline locals are proud, and there is an entire generation who can’t fathom why you’d want to live anywhere else.

“Disappointment seems easier to forgive when you’re chasing Olympic snowboarding medals,” Atlas jokes, but I can hear the pain in his voice.

“Sure, when SportsNet isn’t running stories about how Drake is blowing up his career and wasting his talent.” My friend’s gaze bounces from Atlas to me when she says, “And we need to catch up because clearly I’m missing something.”

“We do,” I agree. “Who are you here with?” If the other girls were here, they would’ve ambushed us as a group.

“Some nurses from the hospital.”

I step out from under Atlas’s arm, wrapping her in a hug. “Let’s grab coffee or something this week. I’ll get you caught up.”

“Uh-huh.” Her arms enfold me, returning the embrace. “Enjoy your night,” she practically sings.

Whatever moment was building between Atlas and me is out of reach now.

“Do you want a drink?” he asks.

“Actually, I think I’m ready to go.” Faking it in front Aspen sits uncomfortably on my chest, making all the lightness from minutes ago turn to dust. Before, at dinner and while dancing, this didn’t feel like pretending, but now, with the reminder fresh, I feel like a fraud and a terrible friend.

If Atlas is bothered by my shift in mood, he doesn’t show it. Two big hands trap mine and his lips brush my knuckles, mumbling a soft, “Anything you need.”

My fingers are still linked with his when he leads me through the bar and out into the night air. I stop us, my shoes skidding on the wood patio until his arm is stretched taut, unable to end the night without giving him the explanation he deserves.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” Atlas asks.

I lean against the wood post on the porch of the bar. “Canyon outed us to my dad this morning.”

“Of course he did.” His jaw ticks with annoyance before his eyes close, like he’s trying to rein it in and keep his younger brother from ruining our night.

“And then seeing Aspen . . . I don’t like deceiving either of them. This is harder than I thought it would be,” I continue.

“If you don’t want to keep it from them, don’t,” he offers.

“That easy, huh?” I laugh a little bitterly.

“We don’t have to do this. With time, I’ll be able to show everyone that I’m here for the right reasons. People will give me a chance. They’ll forget the way I left Timberline Peak, and I’ll get a fair chance here. It’s not worth hurting you.”

The genuine concern in his voice for my well-being, and just the simple act of putting my needs first, is enough to have me shaking my head.

“I can’t tell my dad—knowing would put him in an impossible position. Besides, we did this for a reason, and that hasn’t changed.”

He rubs his jaw, stepping closer, watching me, lines carved in his forehead. “I don’t like that you’re putting yourself in a situation that makes you uncomfortable.”

I hook my finger in the belt loop of his jeans.

His gaze drops and then slowly lifts back to my face.

“This isn’t about regret; I stand by everything—the conversation with Aspen was proof of that.

Look how fast word spread. If they weren’t gossiping about us being together, they’d be talking about me and Canyon going after the same job, or how they miss the way Dr. McMullins did things. ”

His hand grips the beam next to my head. Hovering just out of reach. “What do we do then? How do we make this easier on you?”

“I think I need to tell Aspen the truth. Maybe the other girls too. They won’t say anything.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Tell them.”

“Just like that?”

The door behind us opens, and he steps closer, making room for the group that spills out and lingers on the patio, probably needing some air after dancing. His gaze drops to my mouth and my tongue darts out to wet my bottom lip.

Slowly he repeats, “Just like that.” The heat in his eyes takes me back to the dance floor. I don’t mean to, but my finger tightens on his belt loop, tugging him forward an inch.

A deep hum resonates in his throat, and his eyes lift to mine. There’s so much adrenaline coursing through me, it feels like my heart has grown wings and is about to flutter right out of my chest.

He leans in so close I could turn my head and meet his lips.

I’m frozen, waiting to see what he’ll do.

His nose skims along my jaw. It’s torturously slow and soft.

So damn tender, yet it’s not what I want.

Not really. I want his mouth covering mine.

I want him to kiss me . Even if it’s not entirely necessary.

The embrace we’re locked in looks intimate enough to be convincing.

But I want him as affected as I am by all this.

I’m pinned against the wooden beam with him pressed to me just like on the dance floor. But he doesn’t kiss me, not like I need him to. His lips press to my temple and I’m immediately disappointed because it seems maybe this attraction is one-sided.

Salvaging what I can of my dignity, I bury my face in his shirt. I can’t bear to look at him and let him see the feelings I know I can’t hide.

He clears his throat but the words still come out rough and devastating. “Let’s get you home.”