Page 23 of Fool Me (Timberline Peak #1)

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

HARLOWE

“Does this make us ladies who lunch?” Aspen asks as she passes the tube of peanut butter to Sloane, who squeezes some on to the homemade tortillas Tessa made.

Tessa’s antsy, coming off a gold medal at Worlds in Switzerland and trying to settle into the slow, but no less demanding pace of summer training. At this point, I think she’s counting the minutes until she leaves in four weeks for Chile, where she can get some snow under her feet again.

But in the meantime, she works out, naps, and bakes. We benefit from the latter because she might be a professional athlete that consumes more calories than the average person, but she’s still just a girl with eyes bigger than her stomach and too much time on her hands.

“Dirtbag Divas eating trail-side bananas and peanut butter rolls was most definitely not what was in mind when that phrase was coined,” Sloane says, biting the top off her banana in one hand and chasing it with a bite of her tortilla.

“But can you really be sure about that?” I tease.

Sloane grew up on the east coast—Boston, if the accent she tries to hide is any sign.

Not that she would confirm that. She’s incredibly tight-lipped about her past, but if you pay attention, you pick up on things.

She only showed up with her car and what it could carry, but her jeans and jackets are all designer.

Wherever she came from, she had money. Whether she still does is a mystery and, frankly, none of my business.

As long as she’s happy and healthy, we let her keep her secrets.

“With about ninety-eight percent certainty.”

“If this isn’t what they meant, I don’t want the distinction,” Tessa says, tilting her face up to the sun where she leans against a boulder, her second peanut butter wrap and bag of cashews resting on her knee.

“How are things with Atlas?” Sloane asks, kicking her legs out in front of her and stretching them where she sits on a downed log.

I fill my mouth with a bite, my gaze glued to the twin lakes decorating the landscape of the valley below us. The food in my mouth becomes a thick paste as the nerves that were easier to ignore when we were breathing hard, hiking up this mountain, make themselves known.

Swallowing down the dry snack we packed for lunch proves hard and I duck my head and suck the water through the straw at my shoulder.

What if they tell me this is a terrible idea?

What if they’re mad because I didn’t tell them right away?

I’ve let them think it’s real like the rest of the town for the last two weeks.

“So, I have to come clean about something,” I hedge.

Aspen’s brow crinkles. “Shit, did you guys break up or something? You two were cute. It was giving me hope that maybe finding someone in this tin can of a town is possible.”

I wince. “Not exactly. We, um . . . aren’t really dating.”

Tessa lifts her head. “Like you’re just keeping it casual?”

“Like it’s fake.”

“People don’t fake date in real life, that’s just for movies and romance books.” Aspen laughs, but stops when she sees my face. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Actually . . .” Tessa starts.

At the same time Sloane asks, “What’s this about?” She studies me with serious consideration.

“Canyon.” The confession comes with a sigh. “He’s going after the Incident Commander job and the idea of people focusing on our past instead of my qualifications or the years of work I’ve done with the team made my blood boil.”

“So you gave them something else to focus on?” Tessa guesses.

“That depends . . . are you going to tell me it’s a terrible idea that’s going to blow up in my face?”

“Not at all. I’ve never done it, but Veda has,” Tessa says of her friend and gymnastics superstar. “Her agent sets up advantageous dates all the time. It’s more common than you think.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re, like, super famous, with super famous friends,” Aspen says.

“Especially when you’re sitting in the dirt with us, eating trail snacks, on a random Thursday.”

“Just call me a chameleon,” she jokes back. “I think this is actually a brilliant idea. The tactic works on global media, why wouldn’t it work here?”

“But what if you actually fall for him?” Aspen, the romantic of the group, asks.

I consider that because I do like Atlas.

He’s fun in a way I didn’t expect and not nearly as nice as I tease him about being.

When he turns off the polite charm and lets the raw parts of him shine through .

. . it makes my pulse pound harder than any climb.

I definitely want to kiss him and explore that tension between us.

But am I falling for him? That would be epically stupid.

He doesn’t like messy, and we would be messy.

A short-term fake relationship is one thing—we can both walk away, maybe with some bruises and scrapes—but long term, how would that work with his parents?

He might have cut out his brother, but if he was forced to choose, that’s not a position I want to put him in.

“It can’t hurt more than what his brother put me through,” I say, hoping my face shows a bravery I don’t feel as I think about the not-so-far-fetched idea that I could fall for Atlas Kane.

Other than being Canyon’s brother, there’s nothing about him that doesn’t do it for me, and even that is something I could overlook.

But I’m not sure he could, and since this is all for show, it might not even matter.

“The chemistry between you two.” Tessa holds her fingers to her lips and pulls it away with an open palm, mimicking a chef’s kiss. “You couldn’t take your eyes off him last night outside Peaks lying to you all was eating me up.”

Sloane stands, crossing the small clearing and taking the spot next to Echo and I in a small patch of cool grass.

“This is hard for me. I don’t like lies; I’ve seen them destroy lives.

” I think she’s talking about her own, but she doesn’t say, placing a hand on my knee.

“Canyon’s a bastard, and if fake dating his brother is going to help you beat him out for the job you earned, I’m in. ”

“Shovel and tarp,” Aspen whispered.

“Shovel and tarp,” Tessa repeats, confirming that she’s got my back on this too.

With an arm thrown over my shoulder, Sloane breathes. “Shovel and tarp.”

“Always. No questions asked,” I respond, my throat thick, because I might be the one asking for a favor this time, but I’d do anything for them in return.

“Okay, well now I’m positive that we are not what they meant by ladies who lunch,” Tessa says, making us break out into fits of laughter.

We finish our food and hike back down. There’s an extra bounce in my step at my newfound lightness after talking to the girls.

After the weird almost-kiss the other day, I was worried I was in over my head.

But with their support, I’m actually looking forward to my rock climbing date with Atlas on Sunday because I like spending time with him.

The flirting is an added bonus, and I believe what I said to the girls, no one can hurt me more than Canyon did.