Chapter 7
Colin
I didn’t mean to laugh at her, but she had her face screwed so tight she could have been on the cover of one of the depressing literary masterpieces Amir liked to read. Her curls made freeing the poor insect a strategic operation, especially with Leesa a jittery mess.
But I still had time to appreciate the fact that I had my hands in her hair, the soft, springy curls tickling my skin. A minute ago I’d had my fingers an inch from her breast and the distinct impression she would have let me go higher.
I was screwed. Every course of action would get one of us into trouble.
Even if she’d made the sweetest sigh while my hand was teasing both of us, she’d also said it sucked that she had to work with me.
Excuse me for having a bit of dignity – a little bit.
It had been a close-run thing, not letting the touching go any further.
Now I was wondering if this grasshopper was a lucky creature, since I was allowed to be close to her without the potential to screw anything up.
‘Get it off!’
‘I’m trying.’
She jumped, narrowly avoiding shoving my nose back into my brain. ‘It touched my ear!’
‘Easy.’ Steadying her with my left hand around the back of her head, I swiped with my right until the poor little creature finally managed to free itself and zing back into the grass. I released a deep breath, reluctantly unwinding her hair from my fingers.
‘I promise, there was really a grasshopper and I didn’t produce it from my pocket on purpose.’
She popped one eye open.
‘In fact,’ I continued smoothly, ‘I think this makes me your hero.’
She drew back and eyed me. ‘I think it makes up for one of your previous pranks.’
Six years down the line, it was still true: Leesa Kubicka was way too classy for me. ‘Which prank does it make up for? The fake bug in the light fitting was funny – admit it. I think maybe I’ve compensated for one of the worse ones.’
‘What? The cling-wrap incident?’
‘That was harmless. Like the moustache bet. It’s not hurting anyone.’
‘Except my eyes,’ she mumbled. ‘But admit it: you’re trying to make Derek feel small.’
That pricked under my skin. It made me uncomfortable to think that was her opinion of me, but it was fair enough. ‘I told you it’s not a competition, not really. I don’t care who has the bushiest.’
‘Then why are you making him do it?’
Tension crept up my spine at the prospect of explaining. ‘The kid needs a bit of confidence. Yeah, he’s my support rider for the Tour, but he’s good. I want him to feel like he’s good enough to compete with me.’
She didn’t respond for a long moment. I glanced from my feet up into her face, awaiting judgement, but she was regarding me warily, as though she might believe me. ‘That’s… a worthy reason for mangling your faces with those things. As long as Derek realises it’s ugly.’
‘I tell him every day. But mine is a sexy little dirtbag moustache, so I think I’m rocking it.’
She shot me a doubtful look that was mostly a smile. We’d started walking again at some point after the grasshopper incident, but I hadn’t noticed. I could barely see anything when she had her eyes on me.
‘I’m not sure “sexy little dirtbag moustache” is on-brand for the client. I still think it’ll have to go.’
‘All right, but you’ll only have one chance to find out if it prickles when you kiss me.’
She rolled her eyes and I should have been relieved we were back on even ground with the fake flirting. ‘You need to give up on that joke. We both know you’re not going to let me kiss you.’
I strongly disagreed, but I let her think it.
‘Do you expect me to believe that all your pranks are for a good cause?’
‘I wouldn’t exactly say a good cause, but you know how it is. Training, testing, racing, recovering. It’s intense. It’s gotta stay fun somehow.’
She peered at me as though she knew something I didn’t and it gave me goosebumps. ‘That’s a good point. But what about that sex doll and all the stuff you pulled last year on Seb?’
She was way too sharp. ‘The sex doll was funny, but I admit, programming the wrong destination into his bike computer was low. I honestly didn’t think he’d get all the way up the mountain.
’ It was odd thinking back to a time before my sister and Seb had got together, since it felt like their golden wedding anniversary already.
‘I was getting vibes from him,’ I grumbled. ‘I knew he’d be trouble for Lori.’
‘You know how badly that backfired, right? That was when she slept with him the first time, after she had to go collect him.’
‘Too much information,’ I said with a grimace. ‘I did apologise to him later. He’s practically my brother-in-law now, so he got the last laugh.’
She was quiet beside me for long enough that I could tell she was dropping back into complicated terrain in her busy brain.
I saw my chance. ‘I’m sorry for this morning. When I stopped to think about it, I could see it was a shitty thing to do.’
That got her attention. Her eyes were big and a little sad. The squeeze in my throat was back. It wasn’t fair that she was hurting – that she’d had to leave the sport we both loved because of the patriarchy and it wasn’t fair that there was nothing I could do about it.
‘Are you going to try to tell me it was for a good cause?’
The images from the video I’d made flashed in my mind, along with her graphic descriptor for her career: failure-porn. But telling her she should be proud of herself when she was hurting wouldn’t be productive and it wasn’t my only reason either.
‘I overheard you speaking to Wil yesterday,’ I admitted, ‘about me being your challenge. I… decided to be difficult. This sponsor shit isn’t my favourite either.’
‘I suppose that’s fair.’
‘I’m not a… nice pin-up boy. Even without the moustache.’
‘You don’t have to pretend to be someone else for this gig, Colin.’ Her straightforward tone warmed me.
‘I thought that’s exactly what I had to do. I’m supposed to convince serious people to buy serious gels, right? I need gravitas.’
Her wince was delicate and made me want to smile. ‘That might be aiming too high.’
‘Great, thanks,’ I mumbled with a chuckle.
‘Fun content gets the best engagement anyway.’
‘I can do fun,’ I said emphatically. ‘You’re the one who might need a nudge in that direction, since you don’t like cycling any more.’
‘It’s not that I don’t like—’
I didn’t give her a chance to sink back into uncertainty. ‘I know what you need!’
‘I don’t need a moustache – or a tattoo, or something equally ridiculous.’
‘Tattoos are not silly, and I thought you already had one? Didn’t all the girls get a matching one a few years ago?’
The colour in her cheeks was perfect. ‘I didn’t.’ She didn’t say she regretted it, but I heard it anyway.
I jogged ahead a few steps and cut her off on the path, holding up my hand. ‘Two things you need, apart from a tattoo, which goes without saying. One: to get back on the bike.’
Before she could argue, I wagged my hand in front of her face and kept going.
‘You are music on a bike – art. You’re cutting off your arm to spite your face and I want to go on a ride with you.’
‘I’m not—’
‘Uh-uh,’ I cut her off again. ‘The second thing you need is—’ Fifteen years of pranking my sister and everyone else in range had given me a great feel for a dramatic pause. ‘You need to get me back for this morning.’
God, she was cute when she was indignant. After spluttering inarticulately for a moment, she finally said, ‘We’ve just established how your prank backfired – badly – and your solution is for me to just prank you back?’
‘Yep.’
‘I’m not going to lower myself to your level.’
‘Then think up some classy prank that goes with your fancy words.’
Her only response was a wary look that tried to get under my skin, but I was willing to take that as assent.
‘Working with you is the only upside of all this sponsor shit,’ I continued. ‘I want to make it fun – for you too. A little bit of you for a little bit of me. That’s fair, right?’
She stared at me as though surprised I wanted to spend time with her. I would have thought, after September, that part was clear.
‘Are we good?’
She was too kind to drag out her response. ‘We’re good,’ she said quietly. ‘But I have ground rules.’
I gestured magnanimously. ‘Please.’ Holding my breath, I waited to see how far she trusted me.
‘Firstly, no gratuitous flirting on camera. I’m doing a job here.’
‘What about non-gratuitous flirting?’ I asked with a straight face.
‘All flirting is gratuitous,’ she insisted.
‘I beg to differ, but okay. You didn’t say anything about off camera, so I’m fine with that. What are your other conditions?’
She hesitated for a moment and then said, ‘Don’t push me. I’ll think before I say no, but if I say it, I mean it.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ I said, so damn impressed by how she calmly and fairly set her boundaries.
‘Secondly, you can’t use me as an excuse for screwing up your training. Stick to the rules.’
Okay, that wasn’t what I’d expected. ‘That’s no fun,’ I pouted. ‘You won’t screw up my training because I don’t have a lot of choice in that, but my free time? What’s the harm in a little rule-bending.’
‘Then you’re on your own. You can’t count on me to join in.’
She must have had no idea her words were like a red cape to a bull. ‘Fair enough. I won’t promise not to try to convince you, though.’
‘I suppose I’ve been warned,’ she muttered.
‘And, more importantly—’ She drew herself up.
It seemed I wasn’t the only one who could deliver a dramatic pause and she was prettier while she did it.
‘No more making fun of my middle name. It’s my saint’s name and my grandmother would hurt her knees praying for your soul if she knew. ’
‘Darn, I was going to start calling you Magda, but for the sake of your grandma’s knees, I will refrain. A long, complicated name suits you.’
‘You should have stopped before that last sentence,’ she muttered.
‘Not that you’re long or… complicated. Maybe a bit complicated. Okay, another sentence too much. But I know what it’s like to have an interesting middle name. I suppose I thought it was something we had in common.’
She fought with herself for a whole minute while I tried not to smile. ‘You… have an interesting middle name?’
I simply flashed my eyebrows at her. ‘You can google it and laugh in private.’
‘I’m not going to laugh at your name, especially since that would make me a hypocrite.’
It might have been pushing things, but I slung an arm over her shoulders and leaned on her.
She went still, but she didn’t tell me to get lost, which I counted as a win.
‘You just remember you said that when you laugh. And don’t forget to linger over the photo of me winning Nationals two years ago with my jersey ripped to shreds. ’
‘Why am I not surprised you google yourself?’
‘Now I’ve got you to do that for me.’
She rolled her eyes and shimmied out from under my arm.
‘You do know, right,’ I began slowly, ‘that we’re friends now?’ I let that sink in for a moment, but I didn’t give her time to reply. ‘Come on. We should get back. It must be your jetlag bedtime.’