Page 47 of Fool Me (Timberline Peak #1)

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FOUR

HARLOWE

The wheel on my grocery cart wobbles as I push it through the General Store. It’s annoying, but I’m on a mission—get in and out of here with enough time to make a salad for dinner with Atlas’s parents tonight.

He’s smoking a brisket and his mom is bringing her legendary potatoes. Atlas insists all I need to bring is myself, but there’s no way in hell I’m showing up to this dinner empty-handed.

It’s not a meet-the-parents dinner, per se, but I’m treating it like one. I just want this to go well. He hasn’t come out and said it, but Atlas is nervous too.

Which is something I picked up on after we had a one-sided conversation earlier this week, lying in bed together.

The man is cute when he rambles, I’ll give him that.

And boy did he ramble as we went through our schedules, figuring out when we could make this work.

Then he went off on a tangent about what to make.

But now that the night is here, I’m running late, at no fault of my own. I ran into Marcy on the way in and we got talking about her recipe for the Founder’s Day Bake-Off.

I just need to grab the smoked gouda and then I’m out of here.

But when I pull my head out of the cooler and try to push my cart forward, intent on making up lost time, it doesn’t budge. I lift my head to find Canyon with his foot stopping my wheel.

“Arugula, pickled onions, candied pecans—that’s a fancy salad. I bet it’d taste real good with my mom’s potatoes.”

“I guess you’ll never know.” He moves his foot, and I take advantage, trying to make my escape, but his hand shoots out, grabbing my cart to stop it. He’s toying with me, trying to get me worked up.

“A.J.’s trying to make me jealous; this is payback for Fiona,” he hisses, too close for my comfort.

All of it makes me want to throw up—the gin on his breath, what he’s saying, the nickname for his brother that feels so ill-fitting, the proximity, and most of all, the fact I was letting him get to me.

I straighten my spine, reminding myself he’s always been full of shit. “That’s an awfully self-important interpretation of a situation that has literally nothing to do with you.”

“Doesn’t really matter.” He shrugs. “All it’s going to take is one plea from my mom to mend our family and he’ll fold.” He runs his hand up the side of my cart, moving with it until he’s right at my side, keeping me between him and the cheese case. “He’s the good son, after all.”

“He won’t,” I say, fighting the seed of doubt he’s watering. For a half second I think, “What if he’s right?” before I push it away.

“You could always just forget this stupid grudge you’re holding against me. That would make things easier for everyone. He could see my parents anytime he wanted instead of only having dinners at his house. That’s why he moved home.”

I tense, steeling myself against his words. “I could, but I won’t.”

“Come on, Harlowe, you’re the only person who blames me. Not even your dad thinks it was my fault. They wouldn’t have let me interview for the job if your theory about what happened on the mountain held up.”

He’s pulling out all the stops, trying to make me doubt everything and picking at all my scabs.

“Why do you care? You’ve never tried to fix things before.”

“Would you believe me if I said I missed my brother?”

“No, that would mean you had a conscience, and I’m not even sure you have a soul.”

Another shrug, and that fucking smile I hate so much—the disarming one that won me over. God, I hate it.

“Maybe bringing our family back together is my way of making amends.” That reason almost seems genuine, but I don’t believe a fucking word. It’s all manipulation.

I push my cart hard, breaking free of his hold.

“Enjoy dinner. Tell everyone I said hello.”

I absolutely will not be doing that. This conversation would wait until after dinner with his parents.

An hour later, when I pull up to Atlas’s house, I’m still angry as hell.

As much as I tried not to give Canyon’s words any credence, they’re starting to create pockets of doubt in everything I know about Atlas, about me, about our relationship.

Not because I think Canyon is being genuine, but because I don’t want Atlas to miss out on time with his parents because of me.

That is the only thing I know for sure—I don’t want to hurt Atlas. If he wants a relationship with his brother for his parent’s sake, or his own, I won’t stand in his way.

I park next to the Kane’s car and let Echo out, who darts straight around to the back to greet Muley and do the weird hoppy dance the two of them do together every single time we come over.

“Hey, Clover,” Atlas says in greeting when I join them on the back patio. He pulls me to his chest and kisses me without hesitation.

“Doc,” I say back, taking my cues from him and swiping one more kiss from his lips. We’re happy, and I won’t hide that to make his parents or anyone else more comfortable.

His presence has me feeling the most sure I’ve been since leaving the store.

“Carl, Phoebe, it’s good to see you again.” I hope they can’t see the strain in my smile.

“You too, honey,” Phoebe says cheerfully. It sounds like she means it, and I want to believe she does because that would make this all easier.

“How’s the new high-speed lift coming?” I ask Carl. He’s an electrical technician at the ski resort. Talking about work is the best way to win him over, and I’m not afraid to use it to my advantage.

Atlas and I listen to him give an in-depth explanation of the upgrades they’re working on during the offseason.

His eyes light up when he talks about how they had to airlift in the new towers, clearly proud of his work.

And I like that Atlas leans closer while Carl talks, casually brushing my hand with his under the table.

We eat and talk—everything is nice, and for a little bit, my nerves melt away. Atlas clears our plates and Phoebe disappears into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with something she calls “lazy peach cobbler.”

“I didn’t have time to do it right,” she says, setting the tray down, “but the peaches were going soft and I figured that was as good an excuse as any.” It all feels very normal.

“It smells incredible.” I reach for the plate she offers.

Phoebe sits across from me and refills her wine before offering me more.

“No, thanks.” My nervous system has only started to regulate from earlier, more wine will only make me jittery again.

She takes a sip, then glances at Atlas. “Your brother mentioned something today . . .”

Atlas stiffens beside me, his hand gripping my knee tighter. I cover it and he relaxes a fraction.

“Mom,” he warns, his voice stern.

“He told me he’s planning to move out.” She pauses as if she was expecting something, but the only noise is Carl clearing his throat like he’s bored with the topic. “He didn’t say it but I think he knows you’re not coming around because of him.” She looks at Atlas first, then at me.

“And?” Every muscle in Atlas’s body goes tense while he waits for his mom to get to the point.

“I don’t know exactly what happened between the two of you, but I know enough to know he hurt you deeply.

” Her focus shifts to me. “Both of you.” It’s more of an admission than I expect from her.

“And I’m not asking for anything, but if he’s moving out because he wants his brother to feel welcome in our home again . . . well, that’s new.”

Atlas’s expression is unreadable, but the way he reaches for my hand under the table—intertwining our fingers like it’s the most natural thing in the world—speaks volumes. We are a team, me and him. Nothing else matters.

Phoebe stands, brushing her hands on her jeans. “I think that’s enough pushing my luck for one night. I don’t have any expectations of either of you where Canyon is concerned, I just wanted you to know. Do with it what you will; it’s the last time I’ll bring it up.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Atlas tells her.

His mom drops her eyes and presses her lips into a flat smile, but it doesn’t quite hide the hurt.

Atlas leans closer, his voice low. “You okay?”

I nod. We still have a lot to talk about, and the news his parents just spilled makes me even more conflicted. I know what Canyon’s capable of, and I don’t for a second believe he’s doing this for his brother or his mom. More likely, he just wants space where he’s not under his parents thumb.