Page 33 of Fool Me

“I’m going to have the elk loin, but can you make sure mine is also prepared in a clean skillet?”

The server walks away and I’m so busy gawking at Atlas that I forget to thank the server.

“Your . . . um, mouth is hanging open.” Atlas smirks.

“What was that?” I ask.

He lifts his shoulders almost bashfully. “I just wanted you to be able to try it if it looked good.”

“No one has ever done something like that for me before.”

“Considering what I know about the guys you date, I’m not surprised. But I’m not about to be just another guy that didn’t give you the things you deserve.” He clears his throat and drops his voice. “No matter what.”

This is fake,I remind myself, because he’s making it easy to get carried away.

Once I recover from my shock, our conversation starts flowing again. Getting to know my fake boyfriend is nothing like I thought it would be. I figured we’d run through a list of boring questions ranging from our favorite color to the first concert we went to.

Instead, I learn how close he is to Ray after years of mentorship. He tells me about Kate’s diagnosis and I see the sadness in his eyes for his friend. I laugh when Atlas tells me he’s afraid of geese. He laughs when I tell him I was once attacked by an overly friendly chipmunk in a high traffic area on a rescue.

When we take a breath and look around, the crowd at the restaurant has dwindled, the two of us lingering like the heavy tension that hangs in the air between us. Neither of us seems to want to be the one to end the night.

But when the waitstaff stops over to ask about dessert or drinks for the second time, we both sink back into our seats, accepting that the night is over.

I reach for my purse, but Altas glares at me from under his furrowed eyebrows.

“Not a chance.”

I’m still wracking my brain for how to reply as he signs the check and stands, holding his hand out to me. “Thank you,” Ifinally say, taking his hand and letting him lead me out into the cool night.

“Maybe for our next date we can go climbing,” Atlas says, pausing on the patio of The Game Room. He’s stalling and it’s cute.

“And I’d love that . . .” I bite my lip, looking from him to the bar across the street. “But I’m not ready to go home yet, can we extend this date first?” I nod toward the door of the bar. The lights from the Tips Up sign—a skier on their ass and their skis crossed—glows like a beacon across the street.

It’s a busy night. I could lie and tell him I want to be seen together, but truthfully, I’m having fun with him and don’t want to cheapen that.

“Just can’t get enough of me?” he teases as we walk toward the bright lights.

“With that kind of cockiness, how can you blame me?”

“Believe me, I can back it up, Clover.”

There’s that nickname again, and damn, it turns me into a pile of mush, same as the last time. Atlas holds the door for me, momentarily dropping my hand.

Indistinct chatter floats above the crush of bodies inside Tips Up. It’s mostly locals, but summer tourists dot the rowdy crowd as well, all blending together out on the floor where couples swing together. In the winter, it takes on more of an Après-Ski vibe, but in the summer people come here for the views out back, and the dancing.

It’s nothing like the intimate dinner we just shared, but being here will certainly get us seen. Which is the goal, after all.

Next to me, Atlas seems to assess the dimly lit bar with the same weariness I am. He wraps his arm around my back, his big palm giving my hip a squeeze.

His warm breath fans over my temple when he dips his head, his lips just a whisper away from my ear, “We’re in this together. Just let me know when you’re ready to leave.”

Something about the reminder that we both have just as much to gain—or lose—makes it easier to slip back into enjoying his company.

“Can you still dance, city boy? Or have you lost your Wyoming roots?”

The first notes of “Adios Cowboy” start up.

“Why don’t you take me for a spin and find out?”

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