Page 41 of Fool Me (Timberline Peak #1)

CHAPTER

THIRTY

HARLOWE

Every detail of this day has been perfect—from the intimate, heartfelt ceremony that reflected the family my best friend is building with her new husband, to witnessing her renewed bond with her own family blossom.

Not to mention, getting to know her found family as they joyfully celebrate the happy couple. It’s been a day of hope for the future.

Watching Vivienne marry Xavier settled something in me too. This isn’t just a new chapter for her, it’s one for me as well. Our friendship is as strong as it’s ever been. She has her life in Denver, I have mine in Timberline Peak, and we’re both happy.

There were moments over the past two years when I felt left behind. But now, I see it was never about Vivienne, or this remarkable group that’s taken her in, it was about me, and how I let my circumstances weigh me down.

I moved to Timberline Peak to be closer to my dad after spending most of my teen years away from him. I poured so much of myself into that reconnection and then into building my new career that I isolated myself without realizing it.

When the avalanche happened, everything shifted.

I almost lost him, and while I had every right to be shaken, I let that moment take more from me than it should have.

Or, more accurately, I let it take root for too long.

It’s been nearly two years. I’ll still never forgive Canyon, but I can’t let the anger I have lead me any further down the path it’s taken me on.

I don’t want to live a life focused on revenge.

I watch from across the dance floor as Atlas waits at the bar with a grumpy-looking Leo for our drinks.

Life waits for no one—it doesn’t care about your trauma—and I don’t want to miss out on the good things while I’m trying to beat back the bad. Terrible things happen no matter what.

Is it fair? No, but it’s the way things are. I see that through my job all the time.

Tomorrow, when I say goodbye to my best friend and fly home with Atlas, I want a fresh start, one where we can just be without worrying about what people think. My interviews are over and there’s nothing more to be done on that front. I either get the job or I don’t.

I’m emotionally aware enough to know it will hurt if they choose Canyon over me after everything, especially when I firmly believe that, despite the avalanche and my feelings toward him, I’m the better candidate.

But that’s not the headspace I want to live in.

If that happens, I’ll deal with it and Atlas will be there with me, which makes it all seem a little less daunting.

I’ve been doing things alone for a long time, and I know I could again, but I don’t want to. I want the man walking toward me with two flutes of champagne. More than that, I want to build a future with him that we can both be proud of.

He hands me the flute, sweeping me into his arms and planting a kiss on my temple. “I know I must have told you a thousand times tonight, but you’re so fucking pretty it’s hard to believe that I get to call you mine.”

“Thank you for being here with me. I hope the guys kept you entertained while I did wedding stuff.”

“Very entertained. I’m pretty sure I talked Dom out of adding mini donkeys or llamas to their family.

I’m expecting a very nice Christmas present from Indie.

” A shiver washes over me when his hand coasts down spine.

“But you should know, there’s nowhere else I want to be. If you’re there, I’m there.”

His palm is heavy and warm against the small of my back.

“It just so happens that my obligations to the bride and groom are done for the night. I’m all yours.”

He dips his head and hums against my neck. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours.” I hardly recognize my own voice—it’s breathy and broken. Suddenly, the music is too loud, and the tasting room is too hot.

“I like that way more than I should.”

He’s saying all the right things, and for the first time since we met, the only thing I’m worried about is how good he makes me feel with his sweet words and adoration.

“And I’d like to dance with you,” he continues, but my head is swimming. I don’t want to share a dance with him for everyone else to see. Having Atlas for real makes me want to do selfish things, like steal moments for just the two of us.

“Let’s get out of here for a minute.”

“The night’s not over yet . . . You want to leave?” he asks, but he doesn’t sound upset about the idea.

“No, we’ll be back. I just want a few minutes to ourselves. I haven’t seen you all day, and I just got you.”

He nods. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Ever since you snuck out of bed this morning to have brunch with the girls, I’ve been dying to steal you back.”

Hand in hand, I lead him out of the tasting room, through the back, and away from the noise.

“This way,” I say, passing him my flute as we pass an office, dropping his hand to slide the barn door open just enough for us to slip inside.

Going first, he follows before I shut it and lead him down a short, dimly lit flight of stone steps into the barrel room.

I immediately feel better in the cool, serene space.

“This is incredible,” he says, walking over to the row of barrels running down the center of the space and setting down our champagne on the racks.

I join him, leaning against the barrel. “We used to sneak in here all the time—Leo would get so mad. This one time, when we were thirteen, Luca caught us having a seance down here after watching The Craft . Instead of ratting us out to Leo, he got Levi, and they snuck through the back and scared the shit out of us.”

“It must have been a great place to hide out.”

“That was pretty much the end of it. Leo caught wind of it and added security cameras to the exterior. Ruined all our fun.”

“Just to the outside?” he asks, his tone shifting.

“Yeah . . . I think so.” I glance around the room. It’s not well lit, but I don’t see anything.

Atlas grips my hips, lifting me and setting me on the barrel. He plants a hand on either side of me, leaning into my space. “Good, I’m sick of sharing you.”

“Lucky for you, it would seem we’re all alone at the moment.”

His lips brush mine, not giving me nearly enough. “These lips . . . I haven’t gotten to kiss them as much as I’d like today.”

I sigh because, yes . That is a feeling I can relate to. I’ve wanted his kisses for weeks, and these are so different from the first one in Tips Up. Each one connects us on a deeper level. That first one just scratched the surface.

“Somehow, this all feels new and old at the same time.”

He kisses the corner of my mouth again. One thing that hasn’t changed with our new status as a real couple: he always savors the journey to kiss me.

Since last night, his touches come frequently and freely. If we’re together, he’s touching me, and not just a hand on my hip or back. I woke up with his hand under my shirt, thumb stroking my ribs and his face buried in my neck.

Before brunch, he pushed me against the door and kissed me until my lips were swollen and I was sure it would be obvious why I was running late. After the ceremony, he came up behind me and wrapped me up in his arms, refusing to let me go until the photographer announced she needed me for pictures.

Before, I don’t think I’d ever really been touched, not like this. With Atlas, I’ll never wonder how he feels. He doesn’t hold his affection back or act like it’s an inconvenience to give me attention. He lavishes it on me because it seems to soothe him. He needs it as much as I want it.

Emotionally, he’s always given me those pieces of himself, but now I get all of him, and the chemistry between us seems to have doubled, not just physically. There’s a new certainty in him.

Every kiss says stay . Every look says mine . Every touch is finally real.

“This dress is going to be my undoing.” He pinches the fabric at my hip between his fingers rubbing it together. “I can’t stop thinking about how delicate it is. It’s elegant, while hiding nothing. So sexy.”

Heat curls low in my belly as he steps closer. I shift my legs apart so he can fit himself between them. It forces me back on the barrel until the wood slats dig into my elbows.

“Watching it glide across your skin all night has been torture. You’ve got no idea what you’ve done to me in this. I’d be that damn dress if it meant I got to feel you the way it does.”

“This dress only gets me tonight. You can touch me anytime you want.”

“Anytime I want?” He wastes no time as his hands find my knees and his lips drop to my collarbone. “That’s a dangerous statement to make.”

“Uh-huh,” I say absently, my mind racing as my dress inches higher with his hands.

“So, you’d have been okay with waking up to my hand between your legs this morning?”

“Uh-huh,” I say again, too far gone to come up with something more intelligent with his thick length heavy against my lace-covered clit.

“And if I wanted to bend you over this barrel right now and slide deep into this tight pussy?”

“Anything.”

“Fuck, Clover. You really are my lucky charm, aren’t you? So open and willing, ready to take anything I’ll give you.”

I whimper as his fingers trace the edge of the lace between my legs.

“But you know what I can’t stop thinking about—what I can’t stop regretting?”

“No.” I choke on the word when his thumb skims under the fabric, his palm pressing on my inner thigh and opening me up to him.

“That I didn’t get to taste you last night.”

My heart is in my throat, pounding out of control.

The barrel room is far enough from the party going on down the hall that it feels private, but anyone could walk in.

He makes another pass with the rough pad of his thumb and any fucks I have get soaked up like the wine in the wood barrels all around us.

“Can I put my tongue on this pretty little cunt?” It’s a paradox, how he’s always so conscious of consent when his intention is so obscene.