Page 68 of Fool Me

Maybe I don’t want to, and maybe I should tell her as much.

When I come back out, Harlowe is laughing hysterically, folded over in her chair. I glance out toward the pasture whereEcho is doing circles, chasing his tail. After a moment, he drops to the ground with a puff of dust and barks at Muley once.

Starting slower, the donkey mimics Echo’s circles, nipping at her own tail but missing. When she stops, Echo bounces around yipping at her, like he’s her own personal cheerleader. She starts again, this time chasing with a touch more speed until she grabs the base between her teeth. Victory is short-lived because it slips out a moment later and Muley gives up.

“I leave for two minutes and chaos erupts.” But honestly I’m impressed she was flexible enough to manage to trap it at all.

“There’s no way that’s the same donkey you say is perpetually moody.”

“Bruises, Harlowe,” I remind her.

There’s nothing quite like the sound of her laughter, but when it’s just for me—that’s magic. “Pictures or it didn’t happen.”

“I’m not . . . Just, no.”

Mischief dimples her cheeks as her smile grows. “The good doctor doesn’t send nudes.”

My grin follows suit, spreading each time she laughs. “Not of my ass.”

Her shocked face is my reward for the quick retort, but she recovers quickly. Her gaze heats as she takes me in slowly. “You don’t strike me as the type to send an unsolicited dick pic.”

“Consent, Harlowe. We’ve been over this. Always with consent.”

She reaches for the water I brought her, gulping it down. “I recall you mentioning something about that. These pictures, are they posed? Or just a haphazard shot of the goods?”

My eyes narrow on her as I look down my nose at her, making her joyful laughter turn nervous, as I silently ask,Are we really doing this?

“Why are you asking, Clover?”

Harlowe Corbin is flustered, and that stirs the need to push her further to see just how off-kilter I can make the most rightfully self-assured woman I’ve ever met.

She avoids my eyes, scrunching her nose in a way that’s almost too adorable to stand.

“Curious minds and all that,” she mumbles.

I hum my understanding. “Is that all?”

“Of course.” She lifts her burger, taking a bite, chewing slowly. “It’s not like I’m asking you to send me one.”

“Of course not. Why would you do that?”

She moves right on from my question breezing over it and adding, “I’m sure they are very nice—tasteful lighting, artsy—but not for me.”

“No?” I infuse an exaggerated curiosity in my tone.

“It’s not like you’d want me to send you nudes, so no.” She shrugs.

“Harlowe.” I drop the amusement from my tone, setting down my burger. She’s only a couple feet away, just around the edge of the outdoor table from me, but it’s too far.

I reach out and turn her chair, shifting mine so our knees are touching. “I’d cherish any picture you sent me, no matter the state of dress, but if you shared that part of you with me . . .” I pause because I don’t want to spook her, but I won’t be able to hide the conviction in my voice at the next part. “Those pictures would fucking ruin me. I would treasure them and always protect your vulnerability. Understood?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Good.” I don’t move my chair away and neither does she, shifting her plate and body around so that she can eat. Between bites, she tells me about her interview. Including the fact that my brother was waiting and tried to intimidate her. I’m livid and it doesn’t get better as she continues. The urge to punch Blake-the-blond burns down my arms as she shares how he grilled herabout whether her interest in SAR was long-term. The unspoken insinuation that she’d want out when she got married or had kids has my anger doubling on her behalf. “That’s insane and completely illegal.”

Her eyebrows lift. “I’m well aware, but it’s not rare. This is what women deal with every single day.”

She’s almost flippant about it. Like it’s so commonplace that she half expected it. But I guess she did, and that’s why we’re even here.

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