Page 19 of Fool Me (Timberline Peak #1)

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

ATLAS

I gotta say, I never thought moving home would mean ending up in a fake relationship designed to win the trust of Timberline Peak residents, but here we are. And the funny part is, when we agreed to it, there was a part of me that thought it would be more of a pain in the ass than it is.

Instead, I have to remind myself that this isn’t real because it’s just so damn easy.

Like now, I’ve got a break between patients and I’m fighting the urge to text Harlowe, because I can’t think of a good reason to do it other than I just want to.

After nearly kissing her outside of Tips Up following our date last weekend, the boundaries are blurring.

I want to steal more time with her and it’s got nothing to do with our plans to convince people we’re together.

We already have plans to go rock climbing this weekend, so I can’t even use the guise of setting up a date.

Unless . . .

Atlas

So, I was thinking . . .

Harlowe

It feels cheap to make a joke about that being dangerous with you, since you went to school for eight hundred years.

You might feel different when I tell you what’s on my mind.

But you’re so practical.

I hate that you have me dead to rights.

It’s not a bad thing. Practical is steady—it’s safe in the best way.

In that case, I’m proposing a very practical date to grab ice cream tonight.

Are you going to get vanilla, Mr. Practical?

Vanilla gets undeserved hate, but if it’s the right ice cream, vanilla can be all you need.

We’re still talking about ice cream, right?

Sure, Clover. We’re talking about ice cream.

Does seven work?

That’s so late for a Wednesday.

Now who’s practical?

Harlowe: I’ll come to you this time. I’m dying to meet the infamous Muley Cyrus.

I smile to myself, looking like a fool alone in my office. Agreeing to fake date my brother’s ex-girlfriend certainly seems to suggest some truth to that.

Not kissing her when the chance presented itself .

. . only an idiot would do that. But a feeling in the back of my brain told me to stop—that it wasn’t the time.

Maybe I’m not a fool as much as a romantic.

I wanted that kiss to mean more than it would have in that moment.

And now, taking into account that I just made up an excuse to see her—because waiting four more days was too damn long—the evidence continues to pile up.

I’m a fool who’s developing romantic feelings for the girl he’s supposed to be faking it with.

Grace clears her throat outside my door. “Sorry, boss, but I’m about to wipe that smile right off your face.”

“What’s going on?”

“You’ve got a walk-in patient.”

I don’t need to ask to know who it is. “Betty?”

“The one and only.”

“What is it today?”

Grace gives me a sad smile. “Her voice sounds funny.”

I don’t point out that Betty’s voice always sounds a bit funny, mostly because of the nonsense that pours from her beak. After only a few weeks in town, I know she’s a perfectly healthy bird and the reason for her frequent visits runs deeper than a concerned owner.

Marilyn is lonely and struggling and I hate that I have to continue to charge her. Grace and I have gotten creative with her billing, giving her a break where we can because flat-out not charging her would only cause her to feel called out.

“You can set her up in Exam Room One,” I tell Grace.

“Eventually, we’re going to need to do something about this.”

Marilyn has gotten close to my mom in the years I’ve been gone. Maybe poking around next time I see my parents will help me figure out what I can do.

“You’re probably right.”

My conversation with Marilyn goes about as expected.

When I tell her Betty is perfectly healthy, her mouth pulls into a thin line.

Instead of sending her on her way, I spend the last ten minutes before my next patient is scheduled talking to her, asking her for recommendations in town for things I don’t really need, trying to get to know her better.

When I walk her out the door, she seems lighter than when she came in.

“She’s going to develop an even bigger attachment to you.”

I shrug. “I think I’m okay with that.”

After living in the city for the last decade, I forgot how much work owning and working land is. Even with only Muley to take care of, there’s shit to shovel, hoof care, grooming, fence checks, and feeding.

With the she-devil distracted by a feed bowl topped with carrots and Cheerios to keep her happy, I can clean out the paddock, hoping it’s enough to keep me from getting my ass bit again.

I pull my shirt over my head, using it to wipe the sweat from my brow before I tuck it into the waistband of my jeans.

I’m finishing the paddock with a cautionary glance over my shoulder every ten seconds when I hear the crunch of gravel.

“Shit,” I swear, checking my watch and seeing it’s already seven. I must have lost track of time.

Harlowe’s whistling as she gets out of her car with Echo following right behind her.

I turn to watch her, leaning against the fence and forgetting that I’m in the pen with a biter.

That seems to be a pattern, Harlowe making me forget things.

It’s only gotten worse since that first kiss in the bar.

Last weekend, when we were in front of Tips Up, I’d completely lost touch with the fact that this is supposed to be fake, nearly kissing her right there against the beam.

I have to pull my attention away from Harlowe yet again, and when I glance back at Muley, there’s a split second where I see my fate clearly. Still, I try and fail to escape, planting my foot and launching myself over the fence, but I’m not quick enough to avoid the open jaws coming for me.

“Fuck me sideways,” I grumble, glaring at the murder mule, who’s showing her teeth to me in a demented grin.

I rub the spot on my ass where her teeth caught me, pinching the delicate flesh and leaving behind what I’m sure will be another nasty bruise.

Even from across the yard, I can see the smile that lights up Harlowe’s face when she catches sight of me.

It dulls the sting a little and I return it, giving her a wave.

Her hips sway, and white jean shorts show off her mile long legs as she crosses the lawn. Her blue tank top nearly matches the shade of the Scout parked in my driveway, and her long blonde hair is pulled up into a ponytail.

Harlowe turns heads everywhere she goes, and tonight is no exception. She’s beautiful, tall, and graceful, with a smile that punches you right in the gut.

Echo makes it to me first, bounding up. I lean over and pat his head. “Hey there, bud.”

He sits with his paws right in front of the toes of my boots, politely demanding more ear scratches.

“Well, well, City Boy, maybe there’s still some country left in you after all.

” Mischief glitters in her warm eyes as they sweep over me, lingering on my exposed chest just long enough to have me standing taller.

When her gaze lifts to mine, her pretty pink bottom lip is pinched between her pearly whites, leaving me emboldened.

“Like what you see?” Is flirting with my brother’s ex-girlfriend smart? Not in the least. Could I stop if I wanted to? No, I don’t think I could.

“I think you owe Muley an apology for all the shit you talk about her.”

“Is that so?” I ask, the sting still fresh on my ass.

“Oh, yeah. Farm chores are working for you.”

I lean against the fence, one boot heel hooked on the lowest railing, pull my gloves off, and cross my arms over my chest. She stops next to Echo, and the wind kicks up, floating her sweet scent toward me—wildflowers and sage.

I’m so enchanted by her I don’t notice the sound of hoofs stomping until Satan’s spawn is right next to me.

She bows her head to Harlowe and gives me a little chuff, like a perfect angel. Before I can warn her to be careful, Harlowe’s laughing as she scratches behind Muley’s ears.

“What the hell?” I grumble. “So, it’s just me you hate?”

As if she understands me, the damn donkey swings her head my way, nipping at the air.

“Seems you’re the problem.” Harlowe lavishes the donkey with more attention.

“It would seem that way,” I huff.

“So, are we still getting ice cream? Or was that just a ploy to lure me out here and help you with chores?”

“I promised you a date—you’ll get a date.” I look down at my dusty jeans. “Do you mind if I take a minute to get cleaned up?”

“No, Echo can run for a bit before we go. Take your time.”

“Just be careful. She’s not as nice as she seems.”

“Mhmmm.” There’s laughter in her voice as she rubs both her hands over the fur on the traitor’s neck. “Such a mean donkey,” she openly mocks me with her sugary sweet tone.

Whatever. I’d be pleased too if Harlowe’s hands were all over me.

Realizing that I envy my reluctant pet, I shake my head, pushing off the fence and brushing past the pretty blonde I have no business being all tied up over.

With a glance over my shoulder, I see her talking to both animals, no doubt continuing to praise my mule behind my back.

Fresh from my shower, with a towel around my waist, I spot Harlowe and Echo out of my bedroom window. She’s tossing a ball to Echo, he chases it along the fence, and Muley chases him from the other side of the barrier in a bizarre game of fetch.

Harlowe’s lips part in a silent laugh, her hands braced on her knees as she encourages the two of them.

Echo drops the ball at her feet, his fluffy tail stirring up dust as it wags impatiently.

She bends and picks up the ball, her shorts riding up and giving me a glimpse at the rounded swell of her ass.

It’s not until my cock tents my towel that I realize what a creep I’m being, watching her like this.