Timberline

by Skye McNeil

  Checking his watch, Asher took a drink of beer and set the empty can down. “Not even an hour and they haven’t made a dent in the pile,” he observed, grabbing her glass. “Want some more?”

  Bobbing her head in the affirmative, Jessie watched him weave through the crowd enraptured with the overflowing pile of bows Bobbi broke throughout the ordeal. According to their grandma, each bow they broke represented the number of children their marriage would bring. So far, Bobbi broke at the very minimum fifty, so Jessie wasn’t sure how accurate her grandma’s fables were.

  “How is everything going?” her mom asked, sneaking into Asher’s seat.

  “Other than being bored off my ass?” she said with a cheeky grin. Dawn offered her one of those mom faces, the one used to make people run for cover. “Fine. Everything is going fine. Asher and I are doing great, Bobbi is fondling a blender, and Tommy looks like he swallowed a ghost, so everything is fine.”

  Dawn managed to give her daughter a side-hug. “I’m impressed with Asher. He’s such a gentleman, and from where I’m sitting, it looks like he treats you right.”

  Remembering the last few days, Jessie nodded in agreement. Asher did treat her like a gem, though she still hadn’t gotten to explore him without the possibility of an interruption. Returning to New York couldn’t come soon enough. After all this was over, she would have someone to share a bed with in her small apartment. The thought warmed her more than the wine buzzing in her system.

  “He is one of a kind,” she admitted. “I’m lucky to have met him.”

  “I’ll say.” Dawn took a drink of what Jessie assumed was iced tea. Her mother didn’t drink unless it was schnapps and solely in the winter. “Will we hear another wedding announcement on the horizon?” she hinted, nudging her daughter with her elbow.

  “Mom, we haven’t even dated very long. I don’t know if he’ll screw up my birthday yet,” she said.

  Dawn’s face turned white. “Oh, shit. Your birthday is tomorrow,” She slapped her leg. “Oh, Jess, I’m sorry. We don’t have anything planned.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jessie lied. “I’m not a kid anymore. This weekend is about Bobbi. I’ll have my own someday too.”

  “That’s the spirit. Who wants to be another year older anyways?” Dawn joked as Asher returned to them. “Don’t forget our girl’s birthday tomorrow,” she reminded with a pushy grin.

  Asher’s eyes whisked from Dawn to Jessie at firing speed. “No, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with a smile.

  Once her mom was gone, Jessie spoke. “She was kidding. You don’t need to do anything for my birthday.”

  Asher rested his hand on her thigh. “I’m your boyfriend. I would be a horrible one if I forgot your birthday.” Leaning close, he added, “Why don’t we sneak upstairs for a while and I’ll give you an early present?”

  Her eyes now bulging, Jessie swallowed the wine in her mouth before it slipped out. Any gift involving Asher had to be stupendous. Her eyes flickered to his mouth. And tasty. Very tasty.

  “I could use one of those,” she hinted so Asher grabbed her hand.

  Trying to remain unseen, the two skirted the group still locked on the bride and groom. Without hassle, they crept up the stairs and into the bedroom. Asher turned the lock on the door once he saw they were safe.

  Jessie’s stomach fluttered with anticipation. If he was suggesting what she thought he was, she wanted to keep herself under control. “So, is my present in the closet?”

  Asher stayed by the door, his hungry eyes following her slow steps toward the bed. “Nope.”

  “Hmm, all right, how about the dresser?” she guessed, kicking her shoes off.

  He shook his head. “Not quite.”

  “Then where?”

  Pointing his finger to the bed made with precision, Asher nodded. “Right there.” He glanced around the room. “Or anywhere, honestly. I’m not contained to one piece of furniture.”

  Desire flooded through Jessie at his insinuation. Before she could respond, Asher’s arms were around her, guiding her to the bed. He lowered her to the cushioned expanse. His hands disappeared under her shirt, causing Jessie’s breath to hitch. Even his hands on her skin felt like heaven.

  “I would be okay with experimenting,” she said, his head hovering at her lips.

  “Good,” he muttered and closed the distance to her.

  Opening her mouth to him, Jessie gasped at the intensity of his kiss. His hands discarded her shirt and bra with ease, then made their way to her throbbing nipples. Yanking at his pants, she couldn’t contain the shaking involved in her act. She was no nun, but it had been more than a year since she crossed this invisible line with a man. Her body pulsed for him to touch every inch of her, but his actions stopped all of a sudden.

  “We can’t do this,” Asher said, pulling away from her lips.

  Although he remained clothed, Jessie felt annoyed. What red-blooded man would refuse to indulge in a woman who wanted him?

  “Why not?” she demanded when he rolled off her. Already she missed his warmth almost as much as his lips.

  Asher swung off the bed and paced the floor. “There’s more you need to know.”

  “I’m sure it’s no big deal.” She stretched out on the bed and crooked her finger to him. “It won’t change my mind about you.”

  He stopped pacing and shoved his hands through his short locks. “You say so now, but I’m not so confident.”

  Holding up her head with her fist, Jessie crossed her legs. “I’ve heard some pretty crazy shit. I’m sure I can handle it.” She doubted anything he said would daunt her. Her focus wasn’t on words at the moment. She lowered her eyes to his rumpled shirt, displaying a peek at his six-pack abs and wished he would hurry his confession along so she could jump him.

  “I know you’re a romance editor.”

  Jessie stopped the grin on her face. “Ah, I see.” She moved to a seated position. “I should have told you. I’m sorry for not telling you the truth. I don’t blame you if you’re mad.”

  “No, you don’t get it,” Asher said, taking her hands in his. “I’m not mad. Not at all. I understand why you did it. You hate romance books, so it’s peculiar you’re the head editor.”

  Narrowing her eyes, Jessie cocked her eyebrow. “How did you know my job title?”

  Asher dropped her hands and scratched his shoulder blade. “My agent told me.” He let out a breath. “He also told me you work for Brecon Books.”

  Jessie braced herself for the inevitable. Once someone learned who she worked for, a plea for nudging their work along wasn’t far behind. It happened more often than she cared to admit. “And you have a story you want published?”

  “What? No, of course not.” He dropped his gaze. “Okay, well, not entirely.”

  “I’m going to stop you there,” she said, holding up her hand. The knot in her stomach grew. Standing, she crossed to the dresser and pulled out a shirt.

  “Jess, please let me explain.” Asher raced to her side, his face etched in regret.

  “No, I won’t let you explain,” she snapped back. How could she have been so stupid? He let her believe he cared. All he wanted was a way in. Well, she wasn’t going to allow him to manipulate her emotions any longer. “I need you to be my pretend boyfriend until tomorrow.”

  Asher’s brow knit tighter and his voice lowered. “Mina.”

  “And then we’ll go back to New York City, and I’ll never see your face again.” She slammed the drawer closed. “But since you played the doting boyfriend so well, I will make sure your manuscript is given to an editor.” She grabbed her cosmetics bag. “And I can assure you, it will not be me.” Asher reached for her, but she yanked out of his way.

  Slamming the door shut behind her, Jessie ran down the hallway and slipped into the bathroom. “Breathe. Just breathe,” she repeated to herself.

  Leaning her back against the door, tears dripped down her cheeks. “I’m such a fool.” She closed her eyes and wis
hed the pain she felt was just from last night’s tequila. Feeling this kind of agony a second time sent her spiraling to Chicago all over again. “I’m stronger,” she told herself. Glancing to the mirror, she saw the truth. New York hadn’t changed her gullible nature, it only changed the face of the man who railroaded her heart.

  »»•««

  “Come on, Mikey, answer the damn phone,” Asher pleaded as the ring tone chimed in his ear. It had taken him twenty minutes to find a cell signal and he was damned if he didn’t get in touch with someone who didn’t hate his guts. Voicemail picked up, so he dialed the number again. Jessie had it all wrong. She hadn’t let him finish before barreling down the hallway.

  Asher shifted his weight against an evergreen tree as he waited for his agent to answer. Of course he’d gone after her, but talking to a bathroom door wasn’t his idea of explaining himself. It didn’t help that the entire living room heard their squabble. He didn’t want to let the last cannon loose for everyone to hear. Closing his eyes, even now he heard the muted sobs from the other side of the door.

  “Dammit.” He cursed at the phone. He would blow Mike’s phone up with calls until the bastard answered.

  Asher didn’t bother talking to her family. They were too busy with the wedding shower to pull him aside. Plus, most of them had already left for the mandatory horseback riding. The few stragglers didn’t pay him any mind when he snuck out the front door, his cell phone in hand. He would make good on his word and continue to be her boyfriend, both pretend and real, but he needed to prove he wasn’t a blood-sucking writer in search of a publisher.

  “Hey Ash, what’s happening? How are the Rockies? Did you get some Rocky Mountain high? I could use a little of it right now.” Mike chuckled at his joke. “Ready to come home?”

  “Shut it, Mikey,” Asher growled. “I screwed up and now she hates me.”

  “Um, what? The girl who convinced you to go to her sister’s wedding as her pretend boyfriend now hates you? How did it happen? I mean, you didn’t sleep with her, did you? Sex would ruin things right away. I mean, she must have been terrible too.” Mike let out another chuckle, but Asher didn’t find him witty today.

  “No, I didn’t fucking sleep with her!” Asher yelled, running his hand over his head. “I think I fell in love with her.”

  Mike coughed on the other end of the line. “Hold up, you love her?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” He rehashed the latest details of his Colorado vacation in a hurry. By the end, Asher’s stomach was even more in knots and he hated himself a little too. “Mike, did you hear what I said? What should I do?”

  “Hmm, quite the story.” His pal hummed over the line. “Tell her the truth. She will understand why you kept it from her. I mean you’re already a well-off author,” Mike reminded him. “You don’t need her connections, though Brecon does pay better royalties.” His last bit made Asher grit his teeth.

  “I don’t care about any of it.” He glanced up to the cabin. By his guess, he had enough time to make it to join the riding adventure through the forest. “She’s different, Mike.”

  Mike snorted. “Uh huh, right. They always are.”

  Asher frowned and shook his head. Neither helped at all. “No, you don’t get it. I was in a writing slump when I met her. I was working at a goddamn coffee shop for inspiration. When I met her, it all changed. If I had a laptop up here with me, I would have a new manuscript within a week. It’s incredible. Being up here with her is mind-boggling in the best way possible.”

  “There’s an interesting thought,” Mike interrupted his Jessie-fest. “This girl is your inspiration. Your muse.”

  “What? No.” Asher refused the suggestion. Relying on another person for inspiration in his profession was suicide. It was a recipe for disaster. Fatal attraction. All of it.

  “Ash, you know I love you, so I’m gonna remind you of this little fact. I’m your agent, and I’m in charge of keeping you paid.”

  Asher didn’t like the direction of Mike’s tone. The man always had a trick up his sleeve. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t. You’ll mess this up even more for me."

  “Oops. Already tweeted. Hashtag ‘AJTakesAMuse’ hashtag ‘KinkyinKolorado.’ Oh, I’m such a genius.” Mike started laughing at his literary puns, but he was alone.

  Gripping the phone, Asher cursed a string. “What the hell did you do?” he ground out, his fingers turning white.

  “Bud, you’ll thank for this,” Mike assured. “Oh, look, you’re trending already. Damn talk about fast. You’re a popular guy. Welp, gotta run. Two thousand replies aren’t going to answer themselves.”

  Before Asher could curse the man back to whatever hellish planet he’d crept out of, the call dropped and he was alone in the woods once more. Panic ensued when he lost all cell signal. Failing to retrieve his Twitter feed, Asher chucked the phone against a tree. To his relief, it didn’t break. “Stupid shatterproof case,” he grumbled, picking it up.

  Sooner or later he would have to face the music. The sound of female laughter filled the air. “I may as well get ahead of this.” No doubt, someone in the Davis clan was on Twitter. It would take mere minutes before the pieces fell together.

  Determined to book the next flight to New York, Asher shoved his phone into his pocket. Whatever Mike sent into the Twittersphere, Asher was sure to regret. “She won’t want any part of me after this,” he told himself, tramping back to the cabin. Jessie was as much of a dream as the entire week.

  Chapter Twelve

  The vast Rocky Mountains loomed on all sides as Jessie swung up on the stunning ebony mare. A slight breeze ruffled the French braids Bobbi insisted the entire wedding party wear during the ride. Jessie’s tan Stetson settled atop the masterful twists, yet she couldn’t appreciate the girlish throwback. Her thoughts swirled around the man two horses behind her.

  Glancing over her shoulder as casually as possible, Jessie’s eyes swiped over him. Asher arrived late to the ranch and she couldn’t help but notice his cell phone attached to his left hand. No doubt plotting his next move, she thought, staying as far away from him as possible. To her amazement, he didn’t tuck tail and run. Instead, he walked up to her and stood. No explanation. No apology. He stood there in silence and continued to pretend he was her boyfriend. Pretend he liked her. Pretend she meant something to him.

  The trail guide made a joke about the altitude and everyone laughed. Everyone except her. And Asher. She didn’t hear his deep chuckle which confiscated her memory. Maybe he left. She hoped, but when she glanced over her shoulder again, the tall veteran sat astride the painted horse. Damn.

  From her viewpoint, Asher mirrored a badass cowboy with his Stetson, light blue Wrangler jeans, and button-up paisley shirt. The top two buttons were undone, displaying a hint of his chest tattoos.

  As if sensing her scrutinizing, Asher’s green eyes swung up and pinned her in her place. He hadn’t shaved. She picked as much up when he first arrived. His scruff intensified the Western persona and made Jessie uncomfortable in her attraction to him.

  Remembering their quarrel, she swiveled back to face the trail. Her cheeks burned with wrath and longing. Why couldn’t I spill my tea on a boring stockbroker? She mourned as the trail guide pointed to Mount Princeton in the background. If she had any sense at all, she would fake a break-up right there so she wouldn’t have to endure Asher’s distressed eyes another minute longer. They haunted her almost as much as what lay unsaid between them.

  “Jess, keep up,” her mother yelled from ahead.

  Jessie snapped out of her trance and looked around her. Indeed, she had fallen behind the rest of the horses. Too far behind, she noted when she realized she was in front of Asher. Moving her heels into position to hurry the horse along, Asher’s quiet voice paused her action.

  “I’m sorry, Jessie. I never should’ve kept the truth from you. I was afraid you would take it wrong if you found out.”

  Her horse snorted as if reading her mind. “Wh
atever. It’s fine.” With a gentle nudge to her horse’s belly, Jessie made it five feet before his horse caught up.

  Grabbing the reins of her horse, Asher stopped their progression up the trail. “No, it’s not fine. I feel horrible about being deceitful to you.” He let out a breath. “But not as much as I will soon.”

  Jessie’s eyebrows rose. “What do you mean?”

  Asher’s eyes perused the ground as they reached a clearing in the hills. “They’re going to check their phones soon, so I’ll make it fast.”

  Observing their entourage, she saw he was right. All of the riders held their phones out like beacons. “And what are they going to find out?” She didn’t like the way his shoulders dropped in embarrassment. Dear Lord, was he a porn star? Why else would he be ashamed?

  “The day you ran into me on the platform, I was on my way to meet with an editor,” he revealed, pushing back his hat. His eyes held worry. “From Brecon.”

  “What?” Jessie gripped the saddle for dear life.

  “I’m A.J. Whit. I was on my way to meet you,” he finished in a hushed tone.

  Too startled to say anything, Jessie froze with her hand on her hat. If he was A.J. Whit, then he didn’t need her publishing connections. He already held them in spades. Why, she should be the one groveling for his help, not the other way around.

  Opening her mouth, words wouldn’t form, so she clamped it shut. An array of questions flooded her mind at his quiet confession. “A.J.?” she spit out, her voice foreign to her ears.

  “They’re my initials. Asher James. Whit was my nickname in the Army,” Asher explained in full.

  So far it made sense, but why he didn’t tell her still nagged at her. It wouldn’t have made a difference. Or would it? “And the barista bit?”

  Asher shook his head and chuckled. “I was in a bit of a story hole, so I asked if they would let me try my hand at being a barista. I hoped to write a story about a coffee shop, but the idea went sideways when I met you.”

  He slid to the edge of his saddle and cradled her cheek in his hand. “Once I met you, I couldn’t think about anything else.”