When we piled into the hotel in Gap at the end of stage 15, I was so upbeat Amir was grumpy with me, although he still hung around to see what was in the box of supplies I’d ordered for my win-Leesa-back-and-maybe-also-a-stage-of-the-Tour-de-France plan.
For the rest day, after our recovery ride, I pulled on my brand-new T-shirt and a pair of shorts and went down to lunch with my chest puffed out like a male duck. I had a lot of practice with swagger that came in handy that day as I wore the shirt with pride, waiting to see how she’d react.
Leesa
I knew something was up as soon as I walked into the dining room for lunch – not only because Colin had already pranked me with nice things nearly every morning, but also because my gaze was drawn straight to him and he was obviously holding something in.
He sat up straight when I saw him and I froze, my mouth swinging open. A flush of embarrassment rose up my chest when I saw what was printed on his T-shirt, but it was already mixed with a shot of gratification. I hadn’t seen that photo in months. I looked rather good with my mouth open in a shout of triumph, one hand above my head in a fist as I crossed the line on my bike in Geelong.
But it wasn’t quite the angle I remembered from the press shot published after I won the Great Ocean Road Race. It was slightly to one side, as though—
When my gaze snapped up to his, I found him looking at me as earnestly as he ever had, brows raised. He gave me a little nod which I took to mean that what I was thinking was correct: he’d taken that picture himself. The flush over my skin became something else entirely.
After lunch, he dragged me into the paved streets of the town, ringed by forested slopes and rocky peaks. With the yellow and ochre render on the houses and the colourful shutters, Gap had a Mediterranean flair, even though it was tucked in the mountains. There were a couple of really nice patisseries where Colin demanded I share my treats and proceeded to devour half of my French custard tart. Then he was so guilty he blew a small fortune on handmade chocolates and thrust them at me.
He took my hand occasionally, his face a study in casual that I didn’t quite believe, but I wouldn’t dare make a comment in case he let go. Arriving back at the hotel, he stopped me before we entered the foyer.
‘Tomorrow or the next day,’ he began, thrumming with familiar energy, ‘I’m going to go for it. Not just a nice, safe attack 20 k from the finish line. I have to go early if I’m going to make up serious time. It could backfire.’
My hair stood on end and I nodded, not entirely sure why he was telling me, but understanding something on a non-verbal level from the way he took my other hand as well, threading his fingers restlessly into mine.
‘Will you scrape me off the road if I don’t make it?’ His eyes glinted with humour and I’d never had any chance of resisting the sparks he sent racing over my skin – and under it.
‘Do you mean physically or mentally?’ I asked.
‘Maybe both.’
‘I think you’re looking forward to it,’ I mused, drawing a grin from him.
‘What, the scraping? Yeah, you can put me back together any day.’
I nudged him with my shoulder, since he had both of my hands and I couldn’t poke him. ‘You know what I mean.’
He gave a thoughtful nod. ‘Yeah, I am. Maybe it’s the underdog thing, but yeah. Maybe it’s your eyes.’
That earned him a stronger shove. ‘It’s your character, not my eyes.’
‘I dunno,’ he disagreed with a cheeky smile. Then he hesitated before peering at me uncertainly and saying, ‘Just don’t go anywhere, okay?’
I stilled. Where would I go when I was following the Tour for myjob?Did he mean don’t go back home? That was something I had not prepared a response to.
‘I mean after the Tour,’ he rushed on. ‘No, I mean— Don’t go without saying—’ He blanched and seemed to reconsider. ‘Don’t go without letting me say—’
‘Goodbye?’ I prompted when he seemed incapable of finishing the sentence. Given the sour taste of that word, I understood why he didn’t want to.
‘I hope not,’ he said under his breath. Grasping my hands more tightly, he managed to say, ‘I’ve got some ideas I want to run by you.’
‘Uh, okay.’ I didn’t know what to make of his heavy hints that could be anything from glue in my hair to jellyfish holding hands – or my wildest idea: that he wanted to carve a place for me in his life.
He looked relieved and lifted a hand into my hair, tugging me gruffly to him for a hug. I fisted the back of his shirt and held on, soaking in the warmth of his body and the mineral scent of him, the dynamism in his muscles and the push and pull of the way he held me.
‘You feel good,’ he said in a gravelly tone.
Then Amir’s voice interrupted. ‘Is that some kind of slow dance and I can’t hear the music?’
Damn this constant audience. I eased back at the disapproving rumble in Colin’s chest. Tipping my face up, I eyeballed him and whispered, ‘Go make your mark on the Tour.’ Then I pressed a quick, light kiss to his lips and slipped inside.
Chapter 38
