Timberline

by Skye McNeil

  After scurrying from Perkatory, she put in an hour of cardio and then worked on her ass. Or lack thereof. Squats coupled with weights promised to assist in plumping her butt. She was still on the fence about the whole thing, but her glutes did ache with satisfaction.

  A hop, skip, and a shower later, she was waiting for Asher to make his debut at the clothing store. For some reason, he insisted she wait for him before entering the establishment.

  Since their arrival, Jessie struggled between wishing he would hurry up and hoping she would accidentally on purpose become trapped in his arms once more. No, Jessie, don’t go there, she told herself. She couldn’t get attached to the way his touch echoed lust through her body.

  “Tada!” Asher announced with exuberance as he strutted out to where Jessie sat mulling the next week.

  Raising her eyes to him, she almost tipped over the wine. When had she become so clumsy? He looked fabulous. The dark suit looked as though it was tailored for him alone. The craftsmanship and attention to detail was enough to bring her to her feet. “Wow. It’s perfect.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” he said with a smirk. “Because I wasn’t about to try on another damned tux. Those things are not my style.” He reviewed the suit in the triple-paned mirrors. “This is right up my alley.”

  Not altogether sure what he meant, Jessie crooked a finger to the sales associate. “Please package this suit and any accessories he wants.” She turned to the man staring at his reflection. “We need to hustle to the airport. I don’t want to miss the flight.”

  Asher checked his watch. “You’re right. I’ll change real quick and we’ll be on our way.”

  Before Jessie could shuffle back to finish her wine, he asked, “Why don’t you like the tattoos? Most girls go crazy for them.”

  Caught off-guard, she stammered, “Uh…uh, what?”

  Unbuttoning his shirt, Asher pulled it off and pointed to his arms. “My tats. I saw you staring at them at the coffee shop. You don’t like them, do you?”

  The words in Jessie’s mouth fell back down her throat when he exposed a torso sculpted with care. She couldn’t tear her eyes off the hard lines she’d never suspected he possessed. “Tattoos, right. Tattoos are fine.”

  Asher grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, but not before she got a proper view of three tattoos on his chest. One had two tribal arrows crisscrossing while the other two looked like military ink.

  “You said you were in the military. What branch?” she wondered before she could stop the question.

  “Army Rangers for six years.” He retreated to the dressing room and reappeared seconds later, now wearing his pants. Linking his arm with hers he teased, “And that concludes the snippet show, where you learn about the lunatic you’re taking to your sister’s wedding. Stay tuned for more startling surprises, folks.”

  Jessie couldn’t stop the giggle from erupting within her. He was funny, something she didn’t suspect when she ran into him on the subway. Getting to know him was not an option. He was a decoy, nothing more, and she needed to keep reminding herself of that factoid. The one string attached to this venture was she had to help him find employment when they returned. That was it. No becoming friends. No coffee dates. Nothing.

  As if sensing her inner recoil, Asher unlatched his arm from hers. “I bet you have some facts about you I would find interesting.” He stopped walking as they reached the cashier. “Such as your deep-rooted hatred for ink.”

  Jessie whipped out her credit card and handed it to the cashier. “I don’t hate tats. I have three.” She pushed the card into her wallet upon payment and tried to ignore the playful grin on his face.

  “Now, this is intriguing. Where might they be?” He poked her side.

  “Nowhere you will see.” She handed him the bags. “Are you ready?”

  Asher tossed the garment bag over his shoulder. “All set.” The handsome smile he shot blinded her more than sunlight as they stepped outside.

  Jessie demanded her heart stop racing, but it was no use. What little she knew about him, she liked. Had her mind not been set on a Wall Street type of boyfriend, she may have given this barista a fighting chance.

  Motioning to the cab waiting out front, she held in a surprised smile when he opened the car door for her.

  “I figure I may as well start to act the part of the doting upper-class boyfriend,” he explained.

  Jessie slipped inside the cab and kept her eyes on the road when he joined her. The car eased into traffic and she pulled out her phone to keep her idle fingers busy. Bridget promised to keep her updated with any relevant news during her absence. Though all the blonde had done thus far was ask questions about Asher. She clicked on another email. Oh, and inform her A.J. Whit rescheduled the sit-down for the week after she returned from her impromptu hiatus.

  Ignoring the pestering queries, Jessie tucked her phone away and focused on the soft strains of Coldplay in the background. To her delight, her artificial boyfriend didn’t attempt conversation the entire ride to the airport. In fact, he kept his attention on the passing scenery, though in confidence she wished he would stare at her a little. She was wearing a brand-new outfit.

  When the cab pulled up to the airport entry, Jessie stared out the window. Panic filled her mind, crippling her ability to move. Her hand shook when she reached for the door.

  “Do you want to give me any additional details before we get on the plane?” Asher needled, leaning over to her.

  Opening up to this stranger didn’t sound appealing, but the alternative would leave him out of the most important part of their charade. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but don’t judge me too much.” Asher’s face clouded, so she explained. “My sister is marrying my ex.” She bit her lip, knowing she needed to clarify. “My ex-fiancé.” Understanding flooded his face. “But wait, there’s more.” She attempted a chuckle, but it came out mangled. “They hooked up on my couch, and I walked in on them.”

  An unchecked tear drifted down her cheek, and Asher’s thumb wiped it away. “It’s humorous. I got back from an interview and found them when I opened the door.”

  Asher’s face twisted in pain at her story. “I’m so sorry. No one deserves what you went through. Especially, someone as wonderful as you.”

  Snorting at his kind words, Jessie wiped her face with the back of her hand, knowing she would have to redo her makeup. “Yeah, because you know me so well.”

  She grasped the door handle and shoved her emotions deep. “Since that’s over with, let’s go hop on a flight to paradise.” Not waiting for him, she stepped out and retrieved her bags from the cabbie.

  Stomping into New York’s finest airport, JFK, Jessie made a beeline for the luggage counter. Getting frisked by airport security sounded like more fun than tearing open the wound formed by the two people who once claimed to love her.

  »»•««

  The commercial airplane taxied down the runway while Asher studied the sports magazine in his hands. It was opened to an article about baseball, a subject that enraptured him a majority of the time. Any words he read were lost to him. He couldn’t keep his attention fixed on anything with Jessie so close. She smelled like books. Freshly printed books with a hint of lemon. He might have been able to handle karma’s bitch-slap if she wore her hair up in a bun again.

  Swiveling his eyes to her in a stealthy manner, he steadied his breathing at the sight of her mildly curled hair, which fell below her shoulders by a good four inches. That, coupled with her deep blue blouse and tan capri pants that exposed toned calves, sent him reeling. Today, Jessie didn’t look like the uptight executive who spilled her tea over them both. She looked normal. Well, normal for a New Yorker. The knowledge that she wasn’t born and raised in the city startled him at first. Her go-getter temperament and drive was typical for the bustling hub. Not many outsiders thrived under the circumstances. Many moved to the suburbs to escape the havoc, but she admitted to living in the heart of the city that never sleeps.

 
“What did you say you do for work again?” he pestered when he realized they never touched on the subject other than her offering to get him a job. He was shocked at her proposition, but then again, she knew him as a barista and that was all. He would never accept her job offer, but she didn’t need to know yet. Though he didn’t want to divulge his mainstream of income, he was interested as to hers.

  Jessie tucked a curl behind her ear. “Oh, I um.” She stumbled as if in search for the right words. “I work in the publishing sector. Nothing too fancy. Books, magazines, websites, etc.”

  Asher let his face relax, but only slightly. The little research he did online of her was somewhat satisfactory. In her personal life, she was an internet ghost, save one social media account which was marked as private. As to her occupation, Brecon Books boasted her as an established editor. Her titles varied were predominately romance, but a few mystery, and non-fiction titles had her name attached to them. A stray thought filtered through his mind, but he shoved it aside. Jessie didn’t recognize him, so she couldn’t be the editor who was supposed to meet with him from the publishing house.

  “What about you? Is barista your sole job title?” Jessie asked, shuffling through pages of the latest fashion magazine.

  “As a matter of fact, no. I’ve dabbled here and there with other professions,” he clarified, skirting the whole truth. She didn’t need to know the reason behind his coffee shop experiment. It would make things awkward.

  “So a nomad hippie?” she asked with a disconcerting tone. “They will love it.”

  The seatbelt sign flipped off, so Asher turned in his seat to face her. If she knew the truth, her family would love him. He didn’t like to deceive her, but the exposure on the other end was a far cry from the quiet getaway he longed for. “Yeah, it’s not a very stable occupation, but I’m fond of it.” She flipped another page. Her cavalier nature unnerved him. “Since you’re not a fan of me being a barista, what should we tell your relatives? Should we make up a profession? I can play along.”

  Closing the magazine, Jessie eyed him from head to toe. As a rule, he would encourage such exploration, but the way her icy blue eyes slid over him was in no way seductive. “You’re an actor too? I guess it works to our advantage.”

  Asher opened his mouth to explain, but slammed it shut as she continued. “Nothing pretentious. My mom will look you up online the instant she hears your name, so a quiet profession would be best.”

  Asher grinned at the thought of a maternal form of Jessie. He pictured her now as a warm and nurturing type who had a bit of a stalking tendency when it came to the men her daughters dated. “Don’t worry. There isn’t much online to find about me. I’m not very active on the social media platforms. I like my privacy,” he concluded in partial truth. Her mom wouldn’t find anything about Asher Whitaker that wasn’t positive. Without a doubt, she would discover his military history, but it wouldn’t be so bad.

  “So do I.” She unbuckled her seatbelt. “It looks like we have one thing in common.”

  “Oh, I’m sure there’s more than one.” He plastered a grin on his face and it deepened when her face turned a shade of red. “Anyway, my occupation.”

  Jessie tapped her index finger against her knee, deep in thought. “You were in the military, so what about a facet off that? A security company or military recruiter?” she proposed with a hopeful smile.

  Thinking over those options, Asher figured they were safer than business. He was horrible at business. He had Mike to deal with the money side of things. “I could pass for a recruiter.”

  “Perfect.” Jessie produced a book from her oversized satchel and handed it to him. “This should give you a rundown on what you need to know, although, I’m certain you already know most of it.”

  Staring at the thick book, Asher held in his surprise. It was apparent that she’d thought this through last night. She managed to find a book on his fake career named The Basics of Recruiting. The humor wasn’t lost to him on the title either. Opening the bright green cover, he sucked in his breath. He could pass as a recruiter without reading this mumbo jumbo, but she seemed adamant he read it. “Thanks, Mina. It was real nice of you.”

  Jessie’s blue eyes darted to his face at the nickname derived from her full name. “It’s Jessie not Mina.”

  “Whoa, calm down there, Mina. Why the temper? It’s part of your name after all,” he prodded, skimming her features with his eyes. She was frustrated at his attempt at a nickname. He’d never met a girl named Jessamine before, and though he was surprised she chose Jessie instead of Jessa as a nickname, he liked to play with names. It was one of his favorite parts of his real job. The way her eyes turned to fireballs was irresistible.

  “Because he called me Mina.” She somehow seethed through clenched teeth.

  Asher understood the dilemma, and right off hated the man who turned Jessie to stone. It wasn’t fair of her ex to monopolize her future. He liked the nickname and he wouldn’t stop because another man tainted it.

  Leaning toward her, he lowered his voice. “The best revenge is to move on and be happy. If your ex sees a new man calling you the same name, one I know you secretly love, he will accept the fact you’re over him.” Opening his mandated book to a new chapter, he added, “Plus, I like the name.”

  He watched as her face went from prissy to understanding. “My dad wanted boys, but he didn’t get them, so he named us. Jessie for me and Bobbi for my sister. My mom was the one who fancied the names up so people knew we were girls.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “I don’t know why I told you. Just forget it and read your book.”

  Asher watched with vigilance as she jammed ear buds into her diamond-studded ears. The accidental tidbit told him quite a bit about his week-long girlfriend. She didn’t want to be a woman with a flowery name. She wanted to be mistaken for a man. A woman whose desire was to run with the big dogs of New York City.

  He smirked when she all but scooted to the edge of her seat as though her insight somehow changed his perception of her. It did, in reality. Her slip up still resonated through her slender frame. The more he learned about her, the more Asher was enthralled. She would make an excellent story character.

  Settling back into his seat, he skimmed the pages of the book which was altogether worthless. He was positive his date had also stuffed a book about the security profession in her bag, in case he opted for the other route. Holding in a grin when she mouthed the words from the song playing in her ears, Asher did his best to mind his own business. When she crossed her legs and sat upright like a jolt of lightning hit her, his focus was on her alone. “Everything all right?”

  “The list. I forgot to go over the list with you,” was her stammered reply.

  “What list?”

  Her hands dove into her carryon and produced a notebook with scribbled handwriting in black ink. “I wanted to go over some ground rules for this week.”

  Intrigued by her incentive to write out rules, he set his homework aside. “All right, shoot.”

  Jessie licked her lips and kept her eyes on the book. “No ifs and or buts on not sleeping together.” She looked up and explained, “My family has this rule where you can’t sleep in the same bedroom unless you’re engaged.”

  Asher couldn’t help but insert, “We could pretend to be engaged.” The flush on her cheeks was worth the glare that followed.

  “No.” She ticked the sentence off her list. “I’m not a real touchy feely type of person, so limiting our physical interactions would be appreciated.”

  Crossing his arms, he shook his head. “Well, I’m a very hands-on person. If your relatives are supposed to believe we’re together, some touching will be required.”

  She narrowed her eyes but then relinquished her prude statement. “Fine, but minimal.”

  “Unless you beg for more,” he said under his breath.

  “What was that?”

  Asher hid a smirk. “Nothing, Mina. What’s next?”

  It was clear
the use of his nickname aggravated her, but she didn’t correct him. “My mom is nosy, so try not to make up some outlandish story about us.”

  “Duly noted.” He pointed to the next one. “No showering together? What? Now, that’s just irresponsible.”

  Jessie’s face smeared in panic. “What? It’s not on there.”

  “Oh, so we can shower together to conserve water? I know it’s important in the mountains.”

  Her eyes flashed annoyance. “Not what I meant when I put ‘abide by mountain rules.’” Lickety-split, she scribbled more words after the sentence. “Yes, we need to conserve water and the like, but not by doing so together.”

  “Mhmm, you say so now.”

  “Asher, be serious.” Jessie offered him a stern glance.

  “Proceed.” He held out his hand, giving his approval.

  For the next five minutes, the beauty next to him rattled on about the dos and don’ts of the week ahead. Well, five days, but who was counting? It was clear Jessie was a control freak, and her tendencies didn’t stop when they flew over the Midwest states.

  By the end, he was somewhat peeved at her requirements. “If I’m getting this right, you want a perfect boyfriend for the week. Sound accurate enough?”

  Jessie stuffed her notebook into her purse. “In essence, yeah. I mean, not too perfect though, because they’ll see through you.”

  “Right, because that would be horrible.” He let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know why you want perfect, Mina. No one is perfect.”

  “It’s what I want,” she said, her mind obviously set on that fact.

  “And now I know why you’re single,” Asher pointed out, settling back into his seat. He didn’t bother to look over at the expression of malice which covered her face. It was an intentional jab. She desired perfection in an imperfect world. Though sad, it opened his mind to the real reason why her fiancé cheated on her.

  The pilot announced their turbulence over the intercom and Asher buckled his seatbelt. He was in for one hell of a ride, beginning with navigating the dicey waters running through Jessie’s veins.