Page 23 of Fool Me

I can barely hear Canyon muttering, “What the hell,” over the beating of my heart and the din of the bar.

When we get to Phantom, he drops his hold on me. “We’re going to need to come up with a plan or this won’t work. And I don’t think either of us wants this to backfire.”

“Yeah, that would be bad.” Everyone finding out that this was all just a game would be worse than if we had done nothing. “It’s not too late to back out,” I tell him.

“Is that what you want, to give Canyon the power back?”

“No.” I lean against Phantom. The sound coming from Jude’s swells, and without looking back, Altas steps in, caging me against the body of my SUV.

“Meet me for coffee tomorrow morning at Powderline and we’ll figure it out.” The noise fades and he steps back, the night air rushing in to cool my heated skin. His hand wraps around the handle of my door, pulling it open.

“Go home, Harlowe. I’ll see you at nine.”

I hate that he uses my name, instead of calling me Clover again. I don’t know where it came from, or why he picked it, but it’s all I want to be called from now on.

I get in. He closes the door but doesn’t step back until I’ve turned the key and Phantom’s engine rumbles to life. My palms wrap around the steering wheel to keep me from reaching out and opening the door to be near him again. With one last look, I put my SUV in reverse and back out.

I don’t even turn on the radio for the drive—my thoughts are loud enough. I just kissed my ex-boyfriend’s older brother and I know I’ll never have another first kiss that compares to the feel of Atlas’s lips against mine.

CHAPTER

EIGHT

ATLAS

Meeting for coffee in the heart of Summit Square was the worst idea I could come up with. The blame lies solely on the fact that there was no blood left in my brain to come up with a more inconspicuous plan after that kiss.

There’s a chance Harlowe won’t even show up—that she regrets our kiss last night. Although, she doesn’t strike me as a woman who acts rashly. Once she commits, I imagine she’s all in. Just like she was last night when her fingers sunk into my hair and she pulled me to her.

Her plan might have been half-baked, but that kiss was not. It was hotter than it had any right to be considering she did it out of spite, jealousy . . . I’m honestly not sure what her motive was—something I plan to sort out this morning.

Last night replays in my head as I wait at one of the pink picnic tables, just like it has for the last twelve hours. I should have known better than to stop in when I saw that powder blue paint job. Considering how heated I was after dinner with my family, going straight home would’ve been the safer option. But when I walked into Jude’s and spotted her across the bar, there was that damn pull to her I couldn’t ignore. Something about hersmirk and tough exterior is like catnip for me. She’s trouble and I’m a glutton for punishment.

I didn’t expect to lay my trauma bare for her, right there, in the middle of the packed bar. And I certainly didn’t expect her to kiss me. What I can’t get over is why a kiss just for show has taken up every spare thought. All I’ve been able to think of since is doing it again—just to see if it’s as good the second time.

For fuck’s sake, the woman wants me to be her fake boyfriend. The level of petty she’s asking me to be is tantamount to declaring war on my brother. I might be seen as the responsible Kane brother, but with Canyon being back and Harlowe giving me those big, sky-blue, pleading eyes—I’m feeling impulsive.

If she tells me this is all a ploy to make my brother jealous, our little game is going to be over before it gets started—that’s my hard line. Using each other to avoid the fallout from Canyon is one thing. Being used so she can make him jealous because she still has feelings for him would be something else entirely.

A group of women my mom’s age walk past, sitting together at the table next to mine. Everyone is out enjoying the farmer’s market; I couldn’t have picked a worse place to do this. If there’s any hope of fooling the town into thinking Harlowe and I are together, we can’t be overheard plotting how to do it.

I’m about to pull out my phone and check the time when I spot Harlowe stepping off the curb in front of Gear Up and Get Out—the sporting goods store. Her pale blue sundress ripples around her hips and her long hair blows behind her in the slight summer breeze as she checks for traffic before jogging across the street to the park where Powderline Donuts is.

Hot damn, she’s pretty.

Long tan legs eat up the space between us and I wonder if they’re as smooth as they look. She’s wearing a smile that doesn’tlook like regret when she stops in front of me, holding out her hand.

“A good boyfriend would know my coffee order and be waiting for me with it,” she teases quietly when I stand to join her.

“Noted.” I laugh. “Maybe if you had let me make you coffee before you left the other morning, I would know,” I say loud enough that I’m sure the table next to us hears.

Those pretty blues turn into saucers and pink crawls up her chest. And I think I enjoy making my brazen, fake girlfriend blush. It’s exhilarating. Harlowe is bold, beautiful, unforgivingly herself and making her nervous is a rush.

She leads me to the line in front of the donut truck, but instead of standing next to her, I pull her to my front, wrapping my arms around her from behind. Bringing my lips to her ear, I steal some of her confidence in this plan and whisper, “I hope that wasn’t crossing the line, but it’s crowded as hell down here this morning. If we’re doing this, we need to sell it, starting now.”

She tilts her head, lips curved into a brilliant smile. “It was diabolical, and it worked. They heard you.”

I nod, my stubble brushing against her heated face. “I’m not good at being the dramatic brother, but after we get our coffee, we can walk down by the river and come up with a plan—a story, whatever.”

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