Chapter 17
Leesa
‘The sign wasn’t a prank,’ Colin insisted with a groan that caught me in the gut. ‘The men’s team is flying out to Canada from Amsterdam, so I came to support you guys. To support Lori.’
My bullshit radar was off, since part of me insisted he was telling the truth – the same part that had recently decided, in an inexplicable turn of events, that he was hot.
‘To support Lori with a “Go Leesa” sign?’ I pushed. ‘There was something on the back, right? An insect to scare me? A spider?’
The colour in his cheeks confirmed my suspicion. ‘It was your last race,’ he said quietly.
‘Huh, I was aware of that too!’ And Colin Gallagher had had a part in the disaster my last race had turned into.
‘Shit,’ he said under his breath. ‘I tried to apologise. I really didn’t mean—’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I cut him off.
‘It does to me! If this is my last chance—’ It was his turn to cut himself off.
‘Your last chance to prank me?’ I finished for him doubtfully.
As though a screen was raised over his face, he shot me a sudden smile, intent and a little bit dark. ‘You got it,’ he said with a wink.
My gaze dropped to his little pout. My mouth was parched, my heartbeat misbehaving.
He’d just admitted to a stupid prank that had gone so very wrong.
I should have hated him; one part of me was imagining screaming and pounding on his chest. But another part of me pictured that as a prelude to something like…
a kiss, where I could pull his hair and scratch up his back.
The way he was looking at me, all heat and intent, made me think about the thin line between enemies and lovers.
God, what was wrong with me? I couldn’t reconcile it, Lori’s gangly younger brother and this slow, liquid charm he’d turned on me.
I gave a desperate swallow as subtly as I could. As though hitting a final nail into my pride, he licked his lips.
‘You know I only pick on you because you’re hot.’
This was a new torment. Were these the strange effects of a general anaesthetic? He seemed to be closer all of a sudden and I didn’t mind it.
‘Do you think we should kiss, Kubicka?’