Timberline

by Skye McNeil

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  Published by The Hartwood Publishing Group, LLC,

  Hartwood Publishing, Phoenix, Arizona

  www.hartwoodpublishing.com

  Timberline

  Copyright © 2017 by Skye McNeil

  Digital Release: April 2017

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Timberline by Skye McNeil

  After leaving heartache in the Midwest, Jessamine Davis ventures to the mountains of New York City to pursue her dreams of editing best-selling novels. At the top of her game, Jessie sees no pitfalls in her future until a wedding invitation makes its way from Colorado. After her assistant mistakenly sends her RSVP, which includes a plus-one to attend her ex-fiancé and sister’s wedding, Jessie searches for a picture-perfect date to drag across the Rockies.

  Asher Whitaker is in a writing slump. The words that usually flow screeched to halt a year ago. Hoping to gain inspiration, he takes a part-time job at his favorite coffee shop. Nothing could have prepared him for the unusual meeting with a gorgeous tea fanatic. Despite his reservations, Asher agrees to accompany Jessie to a week of family time on Mount Princeton.

  Hilarity ensues as the two strangers attempt to pass off their faux relationship to the onslaught of her family. Torn between wanting to keep her distance from the ex-Army Ranger turned barista, Jessie begins to feel something other than repulsion for the opposite sex. Asher isn’t the typical Wall Street type, so her attraction to him startles her. With his bold tattoos and teasing demeanor, Asher mirrors everything she didn’t think she craved in a man. His dimpled smile and tall stature puts her at ease and creates havoc in her celibate mind.

  Between fishing and four-wheeling, Asher’s connection to Jessie deepens along with the tall tales he spins regarding the real reason he left his mundane side job. Every hour he spends at Jessie’s side only furthers his desire to be more than a boyfriend. Yet, his secret identity holds him back from fully disclosing the truth.

  Though they had ulterior motives for their hiatus, the two discover something greater in each other.

  In a moment of irony, Jessie discovers who the tattooed barista truly is—a well-known author of novels that leave women weak in the knees—but more importantly, the man she was supposed to sign with her publishing house before leaving New York City.

  Jessie’s time spent with Asher forces her to choose between being scorned by love or transforming her heart for the future.

  Dedication

  For Grammie and Granddaddy: Thank you for giving me the opportunity to fall in love with Colorado in a way only our Timberline can provide.

  Chapter One

  “Well, Angie, I have some bad news for you.” Jessie Davis tilted her head to the right.

  “You hated it?” The woman in her forties whispered from the seat across the desk.

  Jessie pushed the giant stack of neatly printed pages confined by a binder clip away from her. “In truth, I loved it.” She paused for a moment. “Most of it.”

  Angie rolled her eyes and huffed. “Which part now?” Her voice was lined with annoyance, a common occurrence for the author at the top of the New York’s Best Seller list.

  “The happily ever after bit,” Jessie said, lowering her eyes to the manuscript. “Everyone in this story gallops away in the sunset.” She fingered the pages and pointed. “Even the freaking mailman goes home to find his wife miraculously cured of cancer.” The woman sporting a crisp cobalt suit coat sat back in her oversized office chair. “I wanted to stab my eyes out.”

  Laughing a deep and hearty tone, Angie retrieved her beloved manuscript. “Oh, you are such a cynic, Jess.” She stood and offered her editor of three years a smile. “Maybe you need a little happily ever after in your life to make you a believer in love.”

  Jessie also stood and gazed out the tenth-story window. “Come now, Ang. I’ve pushed through every one of your books with scathing reviews. It makes you a better writer, but I will never convert.” She swung her gaze back to the older woman in her office. “I prefer realism, you know that.”

  Smoothing her hair, Jessie still didn’t understand why her bosses, the Miller brothers, insisted on her being the editor for the famous Angie LaRue. The woman wrote romance. Sappy, heart throbbing, disgusting stories which made women swoon with lust. Not only was she in charge of Angie, but she was also the head of the romance department at Brecon Books. It was ironic, as Jessie deplored anything to do with romance novels. Well-written autobiographies and historical nonfiction overloaded her own bookshelves. Surveying her office, Jessie’s eyebrows raised at the plethora of romance titles lining her shelves. This was not what she had in mind when the job promotion from her Chicago office to the main office in the heart of New York came across her desk. Yet, this was her dream job. The big time. To her detriment, the promotion came with one hitch. She would be the editor for bestselling romance novels.

  Straightening her shirt and then her spine, Jessie thought back to the fateful day when she accepted the offer. The Miller brothers chose her because she could be thorough in her editing. Many a time, she sent authors crying from her office. She was known for her honest brutality when it came to writing. Her personal life? Not so much. It was an adjustment from her comfy Chicago shindig, but the abrupt change was worth it on more levels than she cared to reflect upon.

  “Jessie?” Angie’s voice startled her from the inevitable rabbit hole she’d slipped into.

  “Yeah, sorry. What?” She met Angie’s warm brown eyes that reminded her of fresh chocolate chip cookies. Without warning, she craved any type of chocolatey goodness.

  “Should I tell my publicist the book will be out by next Christmas as planned?”

  Jessie crossed to her computer and perused the calendar. Her client’s book releases shone back at her. She needed to thank her assistant for her diligence. Making a mental note to do something special for the woman who organized her life, she nodded. “Yes. I’ll have Bridget send the links when the time is closer. Let’s try a pre-release too. Your fans are clamoring for this one, so I suspect a boom in sales just in time for the holidays.”

  Angie’s smile broadened and she dragged the Louis Vuitton purse onto her shoulder. “Perfect!” Her phone jingled from within the purse and she rifled through the purple perfection. “Oh, I need to get going. I have a meet and greet with the Governor’s wife in half an hour. I hope my driver can get me there in time.”

  Jessie checked out the window. The busy streets of New York City loomed below, waiting for the next victim of road rage. For as long as she had known Angie, her driver was never late. The author ran on schedule, which was the main reason Jessie pretended to adore her books. Well, that, and they weren’t bad if you were into lovey-dovey stuff.

  “All right. I’ll talk to you later. I have a new writer arriving in ten minutes, and I can’t wait to destroy young dreams,” she joked with a hint of cynicism.

  Resting her fingerti
ps on the door handle, Angie paused. “I hope you find a special someone, Jess. Love doesn’t have to be a tragedy.”

  Jessie expected her body to bristle at the blatant reference to her ex. She still couldn’t believe Angie managed to pry personal information out of her. When her posture remained poised, she felt relieved. Maybe she was over that piece of shit she once called the love of her life. Settling into her chair, she replied, “I don’t have time for a relationship, Ang, I’m too busy making you rich.”

  “And I should thank you for it, but I would trade one of my successes for you to fall under a handsome stranger’s spell,” Angie proclaimed with a wink.

  “You’re a romantic. Save it for the books,” Jessie called out as her number one author sashayed through the door. She sat in silence for a minute, contemplating Angie’s words. It would be nice to have someone beside her at the movie theater. The number of times she could go alone before the usher felt sorry for her dwindled by the day. When she grew perturbed with the pity glances, she moved to another theater until the pattern repeated itself. A never-ending rotation of solitude. Her life was neat and orderly. Unexpected was not in her vocabulary.

  An instant message window popped up in the corner of her screen, informing her of the arrival of her latest writer-wanna-be to make it to her desk. She didn’t even want to rehash the work of art the writer was about to cry over.

  Clicking away at her screen, she sighed. In all honesty, Jessie was happy with her solitude-driven life. Designer clothes filled her closet and she lived in an upscale apartment on the top floor. Love wasn’t an emotion she needed. She applied a new layer of red lip gloss to her lips. Even if the Chinese restaurant down the street brought the usual order of spicy chicken lo mein every Thursday night without the need for a phone order. “Hey, someone cares,” she joked to the silent room.

  A quick rap on the door paused her hands. Stuffing her lip gloss into a desk drawer, she stood and fluffed her hair. Walking to her office door, she swung it open. A mousy-looking woman sporting jeans and a scenic beach shirt met her gaze. Life was fabulous for the twenty-nine-year-old editor who hailed from Colorado. The handsome stranger Angie spoke of would mess up her tidy life, but for now, she was content to give fashion advice as well as book advice to those who walked through her door.

  »»•««

  “Is there anything else scheduled for today, Bridget?” Jessie asked an hour and several tears from a prospective client later. Though, the manuscript was intriguing, the amount of editing needed prior to release overwhelmed this particular writer. It happened often in the publishing line of work, but Jessie was confident she could help the budding artist emerge all the better.

  The perky blonde clicked the mouse on her computer. Jessie couldn’t help but feel envious of the young woman’s flawless beauty and China blue eyes. If Bridget wanted, she could be a model or actress. Why she chose publishing was beyond Jessie, but she was thankful Bridget was attached to her hip from day one. She made her workdays fly by without consequence.

  “Other than all the submissions?” Bridget glanced up and giggled at the frown on Jessie’s somewhat freckled face. No matter how much contouring and makeup she slathered on, the spots refused to be hidden.

  “Yeah, except those horrendous things. I’ll deal with them at home when I have a glass of wine.”

  “Then no,” the assistant advised after studying the screen once more.

  Jessie spun on her three inch pink heels with a nod. Imagining uncorking her favorite Ménage a Trios red wine in a few short hours kept her focus clear. Bridget might be the closest thing she had to a friend, but wine was a close second.

  Before she reached her office, Bridget’s voice stopped her. “There’s an invitation here for you, though. You may want to see it.”

  The way those words tumbled from the twenty-four-year-old’s mouth made Jessie’s palms sweat. This was the invitation she had been waiting five years to receive. Cautiously, she made her way back to the cubicle. Bridget handed her the flower-scented lace invitation without further ado.

  Forcing her icy fingers to move, she accepted the missive. Scanning it, she noticed the envelope was postdated last week. She had to commend her assistant on that note. Over the years, she’d learned to keep certain things from her boss for obvious reasons. This was one of the ones she prayed would get lost in the mail.

  After reading the calligraphy on the return address, Jessie broke the seal and slid out the cream invitation. A butterfly letterhead intertwined the initials of the happy couple. Swallowing the resentment in her throat, she read the information without a sound.

  “Well?” Bridget inquired, hovering too close for Jessie’s liking. The two of them were more friends than the traditional boss and employee combination, but the blonde still knew how to push her buttons.

  Setting the invitation on the desk, Jessie grasped for a calming breath. It didn’t help like the yoga guru proclaimed it would. Inside, she was falling apart at the seams. Her gut pitched and dropped like her first meeting with a horrendous client.

  Forcing her attention to the waiting woman, she figured an explanation was warranted. “My sister is getting married.” Her voice hitched. “In two weeks.” She checked the date. “Wait, no, one week.” Her palms seemed to drop sweat now as she concluded, “And she’s marrying my ex.”

  Bridget’s gasp filled the office to the brim until people started popping up from their cubicles like prairie dogs to watch the gorgeous blonde. It was a common office occurrence. “Are you serious?” she sputtered, her eyes bugging.

  “Ironically, yes. It’s true.” Jessie glared at the invitation which should’ve been hers, not her younger sister’s. Never in her wildest dreams did she think her sister, Bobbi, would steal her guy while she was interviewing for her current job in New York. Needless to say, she was anything but joyful when she caught them making out on her couch when she arrived home with the good news about her promotion.

  Shaking her head at the thought of Bobbi and Tommy locking lips, Jessie snatched up the scented invitation that overwhelmed her senses and tossed it in the garbage bin. “Bridget, will you order me a pizza, please?” she requested in a hushed tone. Her favorite thin crust pizza lathered with feta cheese, mushrooms, grilled chicken, and pineapple was what she needed at the moment.

  She snapped her eyes at the lingering spectators and narrowed them into slits. Almost in unison, the employees ducked back to their desks without another whisper.

  Not waiting for Bridget to confirm her this day sucks order, Jessie straightened her shoulders and walked to the largest office on her floor. She earned it even if it took shredding her heart to receive it. Once inside, she leaned against the door and shut her eyes. “Next week. Great.” But of course, her sister would choose her birthday weekend as the wedding. “What more can she do to make my life miserable?” she grumbled to the bookshelves.

  Bridget’s heels echoed nearby and Jessie groaned when she heard three knocks on the wood. Stepping away from the door, she harnessed inner tranquility and opened it. She knew what to expect next. They’d been a team for years, and her assistant was anything but coy about feelings.

  “I put a rush on your order. It will be here before you know it,” Bridget informed her boss as she stepped into the office, shutting the door behind her.

  “Super, thanks, Bridge,” Jessie replied as she plopped down at her desk. The organized mess offered her no comfort.

  “So, then I take it you’re not going to the wedding,” Bridget guessed, her voice small.

  “No,” barked the editor, shuffling through her folders. She needed to do something with her hands or her phone might end up on the sidewalk.

  “Why not? I mean, other than the obvious.” Bridget sat without ceremony in one of the chairs opposite her boss. “Bobbi is your sister. You don’t want to miss her big day.”

  Jessie let out a forced chuckle. “There will be more for me to attend, don’t worry. Bobbi is not a ‘one and done�
� type of girl.” The paper in her hands crumpled when she met Bridget’s eyes. “I have no desire to go to her fairytale wedding and see her marry my ex the day after my birthday. It’s not my idea of a good time.” She reluctantly dropped the query letter. “Plus, the celebration is an entire week before the wedding itself. If that’s not hell, I don’t know what is.”

  Bridget toyed with her silver hoop earrings, which were much too large for her small oval face. Somehow, she managed to pull them off without being a fashion disaster. “I know it’s a sucky situation, but if you don’t go, you’ll regret it.”

  Jessie waved off her statement. She would feel no regret staying home with her Russian Blue cat, known as Bleu, instead of watching her sister and Tommy suck face for a week. “Nope.”

  “Hey, what if you got a super-hot date to go with you?” suggested Bridget, reviewing the invite again. Jessie sighed when she realized it had been fished it out of the trash. Meddling was Bridget’s favorite past time, if the last blind date Jessie’d endured was any indication.

  “It says you can bring a plus one.” She waved it in the air. “You should do it! Oh, I can see you now. Your ex will be so jealous when you show up with some corporate attorney who bathes in liquid gold.”

  Offering her right-hand woman a disbelieving glare, Jessie let out a loud breath. “No, Bridge,” she commented with firm enunciation. Her birthday week would not be spent in the Rockies with her family. It would be spent at a lavish spa in the greatest city in the world. She would then slide into her silk pajamas while she sipped copious amounts of wine.

  Bridget kept rattling on about her faux date until Jessie could take it no longer. She hadn’t become Brecon’s top editor by mooning over a guy who looks good in tennis shorts. “Shouldn’t my pizza be here by now?” she interrupted as Bridget raved about moonlit walks in the mountains.

  “Oh, right. I forgot.” Bridget stood and skipped to the door. “I’ll send your RSVP to the wedding,” she sang as she strutted.