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A gust of wind pushed her bike toward the shoulder. While she’d been lost in thought, a storm had rolled in. She glanced around, not seeing anywhere to take shelter. She’d just have to push on through it and hope there wasn’t any lightning when she was at the top of the pass.
A couple of miles later, the rain started to fall, rapidly soaking her to the skin. The spray off the road filled her shoes with water that squelched out with each stroke of her pedals. She couldn’t see more than a few feet in any direction, and she couldn’t hear anything but the rain. The wind was gusting so strong it almost knocked her over more than once.
It was awesome. Her heart raced, and she broke out into a huge smile, feeling alive, free, and somehow part of everything. How long had it been since she’d been outdoors in a downpour? Since she’d tasted fresh rainwater on her tongue and smelled the green scent of desert plants gratefully soaking it up? She could remember being sent outside to play in the rain with James as a kid. They’d stomp in puddles and stick their hands under the gutter spouts and dance around yelling like banshees, and then when they were done Mom would meet them at the door with dry towels and cups of hot chocolate. It had been one of Lexie’s favorite things.
This was why she was riding her bike across the country. Not for the miles, not to see the towns, not even to meet the people. Just this. The rain, the wind, the hill, and her legs powering her up toward the summit.
When she crested the top, she didn’t even stop. The rain had slowed, and she was craving the descent. She worked up a little speed, bent over the handlebars, tucked her body into a crouch, and let her hands off the brakes. Inside of a minute, she was flying, her bike computer clocking upward of thirty miles an hour. Her front tire pulled water off the road to wet her cheeks, while the rear threw a spray of wet grit up the center of her back. It didn’t matter. Below her, the Camas Prairie stretched out for miles, the intense bright yellow of rapeseed set off by purple-blue patches of camas flowers. She could see forever, and forever was breathtaking.
Some hick in a pickup truck nearly ran him off the road coming down the pass, and Tom’s bike hit the guardrail hard enough to shear off his derailleur hanger. He’d managed to stay upright, but he had to limp into Grangeville with one gear, his fingers crossed for a bike shop.
On the plus side, there was a shop. But it was a one-man show, and he’d had to wait for the guy to get back from lunch. Which had left him sitting on the building’s front stoop with nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs, watch the midday traffic along Grangeville’s main drag, and hope he could get out of there before Lexie turned up.
No such luck. Just as he wheeled his bike back out of the shop, he saw her—riding into town alone, soaking wet, with a radiant smile on her face. She must have been caught in the storm at the top of the pass. It had been threatening when Tom had hit the summit, but he’d made it down before it broke.
He waited for the smile to fade when she caught sight of him, but instead it widened, and his heart sped up.
How about that? Lexie was happy to see him.
He was pretty happy to see her, too, unfortunately. Her white jersey was plastered to her skin, outlining the sweet curve of her waist and clinging to the divot of her navel. She pulled off her helmet and yanked out her ponytail holder with a few quick tugs, squeezing the water out of the rope of her hair with her hands, then shaking her head like a wet dog. Her arms had broken out in goose bumps from the rain and wind coming downhill. Somehow, she managed to be totally innocent and scorching hot at the same time, his Eve in the Garden of Eden. Tom was uncomfortably aware of her. Uncomfortably hard for her.
You’re not Adam, asshole. You’re the snake.
Either way, he had to get out of the garden before all hell broke loose.
“Where’s Paul?” he asked.
Lexie jerked her head toward the mountain she’d just descended. “Back there somewhere. He was too slow.”
Tom frowned. Of course he was too slow. Pretty much everybody was too slow for Lexie. Everybody but him. Still, she was supposed to be riding with Paul. He’d talked to him privately last night, and Paul had agreed to take over as her riding companion. Now Tom just needed to figure out how to tell Lexie that.
She was peering at him curiously. “Take off your sunglasses,” she ordered.
He obliged, a little amused she was bossing him around. Lexie was a woman who was used to getting what she wanted.
“Come with me.” She stuck out her hand.
He didn’t take it. Even standing out here on Main Street, it wasn’t safe for him to be alone with Lexie. Anywhere else would probably be even worse. “W
here?”
“Just come with me, you stubborn bastard. I want to talk to you.”
That coaxed a smile out of him, and he gave her his hand, knowing even as he did so that she would be his downfall. Her skin was clammy from the rain, but it didn’t matter. If she touched him, he got hard. It was like a law of nature.
She pulled him down the side of the building and around the corner to the back, where nobody could see them. When she had him where she wanted him, she let go, fixing him in place with a glare. “When were you going to tell me?” She didn’t sound amused anymore. She was angry enough to spit.
“When was I going to tell you what?”
“You’re leaving me with him.”
Surprised, Tom crossed his arms over his chest. “He told you that?”
“I worked it out. You look guilty, and you’ve been avoiding me. Were you even going to ask me if I wanted to ride three thousand miles with that blowhard, or is my opinion irrelevant?”
Hell no, he hadn’t been planning to ask. If he’d asked her, she might have said no, and he needed to get away from this woman soon, before he did something stupid, like kiss her. Tangle his fingers in her wet hair. Peel that jersey off her stomach and find out if she had goose bumps there too, and if she didn’t, whether he could give her some with his tongue.
He shook his head. This was why he needed to go. “I was never sticking around for the long haul, Marshall, and you know it. We agreed to this in Seaside. I don’t need your permission to leave.”
