Page 6 of Fool Me (Timberline Peak #1)

CHAPTER

FIVE

HARLOWE

I’m standing in line at Powderline Donuts, waiting to order coffee and two honey butter donuts, just like I do every Tuesday before picking up my dad for therapy. Normally, Echo comes with, but he’s still home resting after his overnight vet stay last week.

In the early days after the accident, these trips to my dad’s were a necessity.

He had to relearn everything, and we spent hours working with therapists, first in the hospital, and then in the gym.

Now, it’s just something my dad and I do together, like working on my SUV, Phantom, or listening to classic rock while we make dinner at his place. It’s our time.

And every week, I look forward to our donut and gym date.

Today is no different. The sun is shining, but the summer air isn’t oppressive yet and the sky is as blue as can be.

It’s shaping up to be a beautiful day, which is perfect because after physical therapy, my dad and I have plans to work with one of the new dogs he’s training for the county.

It feels like nothing can go wrong.

And not even the familiar voice of my ex’s mom is enough to ruin my morning. She’s lovely, but she has a blind spot a mile wide for her youngest son. Phoebe leans against the corner of Powderline Donuts with her back to me and says the one thing that’s sure to ruin even the best day—my ex’s name.

In a town as small as Timberline Peak, it’s hard to avoid the things you’re running from, especially when they grew up here. But Canyon doesn’t live here anymore, so avoiding memories of him should be easier than it’s proving to be today.

“Can you believe my baby is coming back to town? Good things are happening all around. With Travis retiring soon, maybe Canyon can get the job and settle down here again. I can feel it in my bones, Marilyn.” The excitement in her voice is palpable.

Phoebe Kane places a hand on Marilyn’s shoulder while I listen from my spot in line, frozen in place, refusing to look because that makes this all too real.

My mind runs in circles, trying to figure out why Canyon would come back.

And why would he go after the job he knows I’ve always wanted when he was eager to run from accountability after the avalanche?

I know the answer: because Canyon is selfish and irresponsible, disguised as a good time. It’s simple entitlement combined with endless audacity. He was never interested in the Incident Commander job before he left.

This can’t be happening.

“Morning, Harlowe.” I blink, trying to make sense of what I just heard as I step up to the counter. My ex’s mom disappears back around the corner, never seeing me or the destruction from the bomb she just dropped on my life.

“Two honey butter crawlers, one black coffee, and an iced honey-lavender latte,” I rattle off blankly.

“It must be a gym day,” Marcy, the owner of Powderline Donuts, says, ringing up my order. Fine lines, that only add to her beauty, crinkle around her eyes as she smiles warmly at me. Her sleek gray-blonde hair is pulled back in a long braid as effortlessly cool and casual as she always is.

“Every Tuesday.” My shaky voice betrays me.

Marcy’s smile fades. “Don’t listen to her. Canyon’s not getting that job, you are.”

“You heard that?”

“I hear everything, sweetie,” she reminds me, grabbing two cups and the pen from the pocket on her bright pink apron before scrawling our names across them, her chuncky rings glinting in the sunlight.

Powderline Donuts is in the busiest part of Timberline Peak, where the two-block downtown area of Summit Square meets the ski resort, all set against the park and river.

During the busy winter season, the lines of tourists snake around the pink picnic tables and stretch back toward the hotel entrance.

The pink donut truck is a draw for the selfie-taking crowd, and the gourmet donuts boast locally-sourced ingredients that bring in the foodies who want to try every flavor.

In the summer, when the Timberline Peak Lodge isn’t as busy, you’ll find locals congregating in the green space near the truck to catch up, and the river just beyond is a hot spot for fly fishing.

There’s never a shortage of people—ladies knitting in the gazebo, people out to enjoy the view of the mountains, or families playing in the nearby park.

It’s a hub of activity year round. Hence Marcy knowing everyone’s business.

“Thanks, Marcy.” I bite the inside of my cheek and hand her my card.

Travis didn’t say anything about Canyon coming home, which means he either doesn’t know, or he’s too chicken to tell me. My money is on the latter. He knows exactly how I feel about my ex and he’s not one to engage in the drama.

But damn, a warning would have been nice. It’s not a given that I’ll get the job—there’s a lengthy process the county makes you go through for a promotion—but of the current team, I’m the only one who wants it.

Being Incident Commander is a commitment that not everyone is interested in.

Oftentimes, the role interferes with your personal life, but I’m not everyone, and I want it so badly I can taste it.

I’ve spent the last two years showing them I’m as capable as any candidate they could bring in from another team.

On top of that, the long days and unexpected-drop-everything calls energize me.

Even after the avalanche, I was there, on every mission, pretending that my heart wasn’t broken, focused and ready to help. That has to count for something.

Canyon wasn’t even here.

He abandoned us—me, my dad, and the town for an avalanche team at an upscale resort in Montana.

Phoebe seems so certain that her son is a shoo-in for this job, that he would just outrank me, when I’ve been here, working my ass off. That’s the part that pisses me off the most. It makes my blood boil.

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, my ex wasn’t exactly the type to bring a girl home to dinner with his folks. But in the nine months we were together, I saw them enough around town that I got a taste for who they were and how they saw their son.

From the first time I met his mom, I’d known Canyon was a momma’s boy.

Thinking back, I’d have put money on him being an only child with the way she coddled him.

He wasn’t, although, I don’t know anything about his older brother, A.J.

, who doesn’t live in Wyoming anymore. The two are estranged, but I never found out why.

All I know is that they have been no-contact for a decade and Canyon thought it was stupid.

“There’s an extra treat in there for James. Tell him I said hello,” Marcy says when she comes back with our order.

“Thanks, Marcy. I will.” And I’ll most certainly be asking why she’s giving him extra treats with a smile on her face that says she wishes my dad was picking up coffee instead of me.

By the time I get to my dad’s house and I’m walking up the ramp to push through his front door, I’m jumpier than a prairie dog.

My fist raps against the frame of the screen door as I pull it open. “Dad?” I shout over the sound of classic rock pumping through the house. The sound of it has my lips tipping up. It’s so very him .

Setting the coffee and bag of donuts on the table next to his door, I walk across the living room and turn down the music.

“In here!” his deep voice calls out from the bathroom.

I have to stop myself from asking if he needs help, a habit I picked up in the early days when he came home from the hospital and had to learn how to get around in his wheelchair. I bite my tongue and wait.

Life looks different for him now, and it took a while for him to find routines and habits that work for him, but getting back to work in the field and job he loves certainly helps.

I, on the other hand, am still a work in progress, learning how to best be there for him and when to step back. More than anything, my goal is to support him in a way that respects his dignity and allows me to simply be his daughter.

But letting go of my role as a caregiver, now that he’s recovered from his surgeries and living independently as a wheelchair user, has been a challenge for me. It’s something I have to work on every day.

Like today, I pick him up with coffee, and we ride to the gym together—he does his thing and I do mine. It’s become our weekly ritual, sprung from necessity and reborn into something else entirely.

“Sorry, I’m running late, but I’m ready now,” he says as he maneuvers through the bathroom door.

“Marcy says hi.” My voice is sugar sweet when I add, “She threw an extra treat in for you. Does the local baker have a thing for my dad?”

“Why? Are you hoping for a stepmom?” He deadpans.

My mouth falls open against my will. Shocking me isn’t easy, especially because I know him so well, but that did it.

My dad wasn’t a great husband the first time around, and as far as I know, he hasn’t dated since the divorce.

Honestly, I didn’t think he would ever consider it, but maybe that was shortsighted, because there’s a gleam in his eyes, and I can’t tell if it’s from teasing me or from the by-proxy flirting Marcy’s doing.

His gruff laughter booms through the small living room. “You should see your face. Do I look ready to settle down?” He pushes himself across the room, stopping at my side and swiping the bag from my hand before he pops the donut into his mouth and leads the way out the door to my SUV.

I shut the door, following him. After the avalanche, I brought up the idea of selling Phantom, but Dad sternly told me that was not an option.

“If you’re going to sell Phantom, you’ll sell it to me and no one else,” he’d barked from his bed in the long-term care facility he stayed at for a short while after leaving the hospital.

We built this Scout together. For three summers, after the divorce, we bonded while he taught me everything he knew about rebuilding engines, wiring, and changing out brakes in his garage.