Page 14 of Fool Me

It’s still my favorite playlist when I want to push myself. And today, I need the distraction of a workout that takes all my focus and energy. I don’t want anything left in the tank to devote to Canyon or the stress over Echo’s scare. I want to shut out all the what-ifs from both and just sweat for the next forty-five minutes.

And I do just that, cranking my music, tuning out the world and pushing myself until I can’t go anymore.

Legs shaking, I walk over to the back room where Dad always starts and ends his session with his trainer. My headphones hang around my neck and I’m covered in sweat. My mission to workout so hard I can’t think of anything else leaves my brain feeling just as drained as the rest of me.

“Harlowe?”

I turn toward the sound, my attention snagging on the leg press machine, and the person using it. I’d spent hours with Atlas the other night, but seeing him now is like seeing him through fresh eyes.

Maybe it’s the endorphins from my workout, or maybe it’s the cutoff shirt he’s wearing, but my god the new vet is hot. Andnot just a little hot. Dr. Atlas is the kind of hot that makes a girl forget her name.

A sheen of sweat makes his tan skin shine under the overhead lights. Corded muscles wrap around his exposed shoulders and down his arm. The hint of a brightly-colored tattoo inked across his ribs peaks out from under his shirt, and thick thighs strain against hiked up shorts, giving me a taste of the quads hiding underneath. He’s not huge, but every muscle is well defined.

Atlas wipes his hands on his shorts, standing from the machine and joining me. Brown hair that’s longer than I realized curls forward over his forehead, and sparkling amber eyes track over me like he’s seeing me for the first time too.

Damn, how did I miss this the other night? The new vet in town is a living, breathing thirst trap. My haze of panic must have blinded me to it, but I’m seeing him now.

“Hey, Atlas, are you playing hooky from the clinic?” I ask, trying to sound more casual than I feel.

He laughs, a rich, hearty sound. “Nah, we open later on Tuesdays, so we can take appointments in the evening.”

My gaze lingers on the arm lifting to brush a hair from his face. The veins in his forearms pop and I’ve lost the ability to speak. “I see,” I finally say, but I don’t really see. Nope, I’m too distracted by how ruggedly pretty he is.

“Ready, Harlowe?” My dad’s voice is like a bucket of ice water over my runaway imagination. When he stops beside me he asks, “Who’s this?”

“Dad, this is the new vet in town—the one who took care of Echo the other day.”

“Oh, is he?” My dad leans forward, extending a hand. “Thanks for taking care of Echo until Harlowe could get there. Don’t know what we would have done if something had happened to him. I’m James Corbin.”

“Altas Kane.” He pumps my dad’s hand, flashing me a panty-dropping smirk before he says, “I’m glad I could help. Harlowe did most of the work—getting him cooled down with rags and onto the chopper. That was smart thinking.”

The blood that was just running hot through my veins cools to ice as I process his words. Did he say Kane? It’s his goddamn smile with those straight white teeth throwing my brain for a loop, because I must have misheard him. There’s no way that’s right.

“Did you say Kane?” I blurt out.

“You’re Canyon’s brother?” my dad asks, without any of the shock I’m feeling.

Atlas’s gaze flicks between us before it settles on my dad, his jaw tight. “Of course you know my brother. Small towns.”

I ignore him, pissed I was lusting over him a minute ago. “No, that can’t be right, Canyon told me his brother’s name was A.J.” But even as I say it, the pieces are falling into place.

His jaw ticks before he responds. “Only he calls me that. Atlas was hard to say when he was young. My middle name is John, hence A.J. How do you know my brother?” There’s a new edge to his voice—judgement or disappointment? I can’t quite put my finger on it, but based on what I know about their relationship, it could be either.

“Knew. Iknewyour brother. He’s as good as dead to me now.”

My father chuckles. “Sorry. Harlowe’s not a fan of Canyon.”

Atlas gives me a slow once over. “No need to apologize. He’s an acquired taste.”

“Yeah, like poison.” My voice is dripping with venom.

Atlas chokes on what I think is a laugh, but I can’t be sure because he recovers too quickly. Just like the other night, he doesn’t give me much.

Eager to get some space from the elder Kane brother and this conversation, I check my watch. When I look up, he’s still standing there all sweaty and stupidly good looking, like a chiseled god in that slutty tank top. “We should get going or we’ll be late to meet up with Blake.” It’s a flimsy excuse—we have plenty of time to get home and shower before we have to go to the ranch to train Beacon, Teton County’s newest search and rescue dog—but Atlas doesn’t know that.

Thankfully, my dad doesn’t leave me out to dry.

“It was nice to meet you, Atlas,” my dad says.

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