Page 42 of Fool Me

“Harlowe’s name stays out of your damn mouth. This is the only warning I’m giving you, little brother. Years may have passed, but I haven’t forgotten how to kick your ass.”

I don’t wait for him to respond, turning and opening the door for Harlowe, letting my palm slide down her back just a little lower than necessary. She steps up, joining Echo who’s waiting in the back, windows down, car running, and air conditioning pumping.

When I close the door, Canyon is right there, hot under the collar and clearly not done with me. “You’re supposed to be the smart one. She’s leading you like a calf to branding and you’re too dumb to see it. Harlowe is using you to get me back.”

“I thought I told you to stop talking about my girlfriend,” I seethe, stepping right into his space. “How would it look for that new job you’re after if I laid you out right here in the middle of Summit Square and Sheriff Evans had to come down to break it up?”

He grabs his groceries and steps back, just out of reach, but he’s not done. He never is. “You’ll see. She’ll come crawling to me just like Fiona did.”

The window opens behind me. “Come on, Atlas, take me home.”

Her pleading voice is all it takes to knock some sense into me. I leave my brother on the sidewalk and join Harlowe in the truck. Setting the ice cream down, I lean across the console and pull her to me until my nose is buried in the side of her neck. My heart starts to slow and the anger seeps out of me as I soak her in. “Are you okay?”

I can hear her thick swallow before she utters, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Only she doesn’t sound fine. Her voice is devoid of the heat from earlier—defeated and sad. My heart pinches in my chest because my brother doesn’t shoulder all the blame.

“Am I really taking you home, or did you still want to head out to the overlook?”

“I bet the sunset’s real pretty from your property and there’s a lot fewer people there.”

“I could do without people,” I tell her.

The drive takes all of five minutes, but after the loaded “fine” she gave me, it feels a hell of a lot longer. When we get back, I grab a blanket out of the garage and walk her around the back where there’s a view of the mountains.

I lay out the worn wool blankets and take a seat, patting the ground next to me.

CHAPTER

TWELVE

HARLOWE

Atlas pats the blanket, coaxing me closer. Ignoring the thick tension hanging in the evening air is practically impossible as I take the spot next to him. Once I join him, Echo circles, lying beside me. At least he gets to be oblivious to the restlessness seeing Canyon triggered.

The brown bag crinkles as Altas fishes out the two spoons and our ice cream. He takes the lids from both, placing them back in the bag and hands me mine.

“I know you’re not fine, Clover. Want to tell me why?” He pushes a hand through his dark hair, something I’ve noticed he does when he’s feeling unsure. And I like that he’s comfortable enough to do it with me because I get the sense that most people only get to see the perfectly curated image he wears for the world. The compassionate vet, who’s a bit of a perfectionist and makes all the right decisions. The version of him that takes life seriously to overcompensate for his reckless brother—holding himself back to keep himself safe from being manipulated again.

When I really look at him, I can see it, the sag in his shoulders like the weight of expectations are too heavy to bear. And maybe it‘s unfair to add the burden of my worries, but I don’t think he’ll rest until I tell him what’s on my mind.

With a tired sigh of acceptance, I admit my fears. “What if all of this doesn’t make a lick of difference? What if I don’t get the job? What if you just end up punching your brother and hurting your reputation?”

He thinks about that for a second, his head tilting back like the clouds hold the answers. “I’m choosing to believe that karma is on our side. We deserve good things.” He bumps me with his shoulder. “Our time is coming, Harlowe, you’ve got to believe that, because I do.” It’s not clear whether he’s trying to convince himself or me.

I rest my ice cream on my knee, looking from the view in front of us to him. For a second, I let myself see it, let his faith carry me, and it makes my hair-brained idea a little less crazy. “Sorry if I made things worse back there. He was goading you, trying to get under your skin.” The intrusive thoughts were screaming at me that the crack of Atlas’s fist against Canyon’s face would be music to my ears. Thankfully, logic beat out reckless impulse and I spoke up before Atlas could do something he’d probably regret later.

“Yeah, well, it worked,” he admits with a rough chuckle.

I bump his shoulder back for no other reason than I want to touch him. “You don’t say. The way you defended my honor was a dead giveaway. Very boyfriend-like. I never really pegged myself as someone who would swoon over that possessive alpha male bullshit, but damn. It was surprisingly hot. It’s too bad this is fake, can you imagine . . .” I snap my mouth shut before my vagina runs away with this horny tangent.

Atlas chuckles. “Such a tease, stopping just when things were getting juicy.”

He leans back, stretching his legs out in front of him, a cocky smirk giving away that he’s not all good. One hand braces his weight behind me and other than the slight shift, he doesn’t move, but somehow it makes him feel closer, like he’s almostwrapped around me. Like I could just lean over a smidge and be in his arms.

“Messy doesn’t really seem like it’s your style,” I retort, leaving the rest unsaid. Getting together while we’re faking it would be problematic as fuck.

He ducks his head, giving me all the confirmation I need, and says, “I can’t imagine you need a man to assert . . . What did you call it? That ‘possessive alpha male bullshit’ often.”

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