Page 24 of Fool Me

“I like sweet drinks. Honey-lavender lattes are my weakness,” she says when the teen in front of us steps forward.

“I’m an Americano kind of guy.”

“Not black coffee, I’m surprised,” she says, craning her neck to look up at me. Her eyes are filled with the kind of mischief I’ve come to fear, but on her, it’s a good reckless. A measured amount, a safe amount—hell, maybe even a fun amount.

“I might have been born in Wyoming, but after eight years in Houston, I learned some things.”

“Like an appreciation for fancy coffee? I guess youcanteach an old dog new tricks.”

“Old?” I scoff, folding over her so I can see her face better. She’s flirting with me, teasing and poking. It’s easy and forgetting what this is would be so easy. “How old are you that you’re calling me old?”

“I’m just a spring chicken at thirty. You’re practically ready to be put out to pasture next to me.” We’re still speaking in hushed tones, and to onlookers, it probably seems sweet.

Heat gallops through my veins at the thought of proving her wrong and showing her how much energy and stamina I have. “Or maybe I’m like a barrel-aged bourbon—decadent, complex, refined. For all you know, I’d be the best thing you’d ever tasted.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath before I add, “If I were bourbon, that is.”

We step forward, Marcy’s eyes bugging out when she spots us, like she just got the scoop on the town gossip before anyone else.

“Morning, Doctor Altas. Harlowe. This is new.”

“Kind of,” Harlowe says with an indifferent shrug.

“Can we get an Americano and a honey-lavender latte, please?” I release Harlowe, stepping up alongside her and fishing out my wallet.

“Both iced?” Marcy asks.

“Yeah, that’s good for me,” Harlowe confirms.

“Same here,” I add.

Marcy points between us. “You know, this is cute. I think I like it.”

Untamed laughter starts in Harlowe’s belly as her lips spread in a wide grin. “Glad you approve.”

Damn, she’s captivating. Even knowing this is all a lie, I’m convinced she’s enjoying every second of it. And I can see how she and Canyon ended up together. She’s got this bright, dazzling exterior with a cutting center. Witty, maybe a little dark. She’s dynamic and interesting.

When our coffees come out, we walk past the pink picnic tables to head toward the river that sits along the backside of the ski resort, giving guests at the lodge a stunning view and the occasional chance of moose sightings.

Luckily, the riverbank is empty aside from us. Harlowe sits on a boulder embedded into the soil along the water’s edge and I join her.

“That’s my place right there.” She points to a purple house across the river and up the opposite bank. A fish jumps, sending ripples through the water as I take it in. The eclectic cottage can’t be more than five hundred square feet. Somehow, it suits her—whimsical and one of a kind. “Purple is my favorite color . . . in the spirit of getting to know one another.”

“Noted. I’m partial to anything earthy.” There’s a beat of silence I’m not quite sure how to fill. Do I ask her about her favorite food or movie? “How do you see this working? Beyond coffee orders and now favorite colors, we don’t really know each other. Convincing the whole town that we’re in love is going to take more than that.”

“We get to know each other. Same way we would if it were real.” Her gaze shifts, the only hint that she’s not entirely sure. “It’s not like we lack chemistry.”

So she felt it too. “Is that so?”

“Stop. Don’t be a shitgoblin—that’s your brother’s job.”

Ah, there it is, the storm rolling in that neither of us is talking about. It’s the one thing that could derail this.

“Remind me again why you want to do this?”

She chews her plump bottom lip, her eyes soften, and I see fear swimming in the blue of them. “He’s coming after my future—my peace. I earned the Incident Commander job with the time and work I’ve put in. Beyond that, and my education, it’s my legacy. My dad had the job before . . . and he just wants to waltz in and take it all, disrupting my entire life. And truthfully, I’m afraid he might be able to. Search and rescue is still a male-dominated field, and despite your brother’s many faults, he’s still mostly well-liked. He smiles, opens his mouth to let the bullshitting and ass-kissing flow, and everyone forgets the times he was a crap team member, or the promises he broke.”

“He gets chance after chance and all he does is waste them,” I agree.

---