Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
“So what the hell is going on with you and your head mechanic?” I volleyed playfully.
His smile was instant, firing his eyes, and I could tell he was thankful we were talking like we always did.
“What brought him all the way here to me?” I added.
“He doesn’t know I got a job offer yet,” he answered, closing in, garment bag in one hand, huge Louis Vuitton duffel in the other. “And he was worried about me racing again without you there.”
“I see. And when do you plan to tell him what’s really going on?”
“Any second now,” he said as he sat down close to me on the top step, putting his two articles of luggage on the step below him.
We were silent, just the two of us sitting together.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” I said, rolling my head sideways to look at him. “Why didn’t you just tell him about it as soon as you got it?”
“Because for one, it means the job, if he wants it, will be a lot different than the one he has now. He wouldn’t work for me anymore. He’d work for my new employer.”
“And for two?”
“When I first mentioned it to him, he thought it was too dangerous.”
I snorted out a laugh. “You got a job offer scarier than what you do now?”
“Potentially,” he hedged.
“Jesus, doing what? Riding your bike through a mine field?”
“Test driving.”
“So, close, then?”
He laughed softly.
“When did this happen?” I asked.
“Last month. We all heard that this guy, Archer Del Toro, was gonna build a new bike.”
“Okay.”
“But it’s a joke, right, nothing serious. Word on the circuit is that he’s a playboy. Fast bikes, faster women, you get the idea.”
“Sure.”
“Thing is, though,” he said as he leaned all the way back against the concrete, hands clasped behind his head, long, hard muscled body stretched out beside me, “everything changes when we see Klaus Stein walking around the paddock with him, talking to guys and then checking the pit.”
“Who’s Klaus whoever?”
“He’s the bike designer behind innovations in—”
“No.” I stopped him. “Don’t dazzle me with examples of stuff I have no clue about. He’s a bike builder from Germany with a name like Klaus, right?”
“Yeah.” He grinned up at me.
“Like, one of the top in the world?”
“Uh-huh, he’s totally respected by MSMA.”
I didn’t care what that stood for. What was important was what the conversation was building to. “And so what does this have to do with you?”
“Well, since I can’t be racing all over the world anymore because I’ve got plans for us, I made sure I was there, in Del Toro’s face, the next time I saw him.”
“Plans?”
“Yeah,” he said, rolling his head to his bent elbow as he reached for me.
I took his hand and relished the strength and warmth, the electric tingles running through my body from just a simple touch.
“I told my manager before we parted ways that I don’t want to ride competitively anymore,” he explained, his voice gruff.
My stomach fluttered. “Why not?”
“I need a job with more of a set schedule, so you’ll know when I’ll be home so you can plan your life with me in it.”
I nearly swallowed my tongue. “You tell me you love me on the phone, and now you just expect to move in?”
His gaze was on our fingers lacing together. “Yeah.” He wasn’t really listening to me. The hooded eyes, the trace of a smile; it was our skin together that had him so entranced.
I didn’t even want to move; I was so afraid I would startle the exotic creature and he would run away. I exhaled as the world slowed and everything fell away except the two of us.
“You look tired.”
He didn’t say I was wrong.
“You’re not sleeping.”
“I haven’t slept since you left,” he replied, sliding his hand up to my wrist.
I mirrored the action, having to slide closer to him, pressing my hip into his side and twisting my upper body so I could look down at him. He had beautiful forearms, strong, with roped veins I found very sexy.
“So… tell me about the guy,” he ventured.
“That was subtle.” I chuckled.
“Brian.”
I looked down into his face. “Nothing to tell.”
“What does that mean?” His gaze lifted to meet mine.
“It means that he wanted me to pick between him and you.”
He nodded. “And you told him to go fuck himself.”
“It’s done.” I left it at that. “He also said that I’m basically dead inside.”
Sitting up quickly, he turned to face me. “You? Dead inside? He’s obviously never seen you bounce in your chair over three scoops of rocky road.”
His eyes were so dark, so warm, and having him close sent twinges of sizzling heat through me.
“You don’t think that, do you?” I checked.
“No,” he promised, leaning close. “You fight with me at the drop of a hat. Dead is not the adjective I’d use.”