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She gazed up at Trent, who was massaging his shoulder. “I’m sure they’re going to love your performance.”
He smirked. “It will make them laugh and we definitely overpowered the other team, at least. For the good of the dog population in the city, you’re up next.”
She laughed. “Maybe that’s the only singing assignment. So, what’s the deal with your shoulder? I know you mentioned you couldn’t throw anything?”
His smile faded and he retreated a step. “It’s an old injury but sometimes when it’s cold like this, it aches.”
“One of your dangerous spy missions?” Despite his withdrawal, she was curious to learn more about him.
His jaw tightened. “Car accident.”
“Oh no. Was it recent?”
“No, three years ago.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down. “It ended my career. I used to pitch for the San Francisco Giants.”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” Her heart cracked for Trent.
Her brother Cameron’s military career had ended because of an injury and his life was forever changed. Her brother had been fortunate enough to start fresh in a new career. Had Trent?
His expression became shuttered, and he gazed off into the distance. “Why would you?”
She bit her lip. If Trent was anything like her brother, he’d share with her in his own time. Her phone buzzed, saving her the challenge of trying to find words to comfort him. She stepped closer to Trent and opened the message.
Leg #2:Rent two bikes from the bicycle stand three blocks from the water. Ride to the Golden Gate Bridge and take the bicycle lane across to Sausalito. Order a red drink at Barrel House Tavern. Have the bartender snap your photo and submit to receive your next clue when you finish your cocktail.
“Cycling, I can handle. Let’s do this.” Camille forced a smile. Maybe a bike ride would give them both a minute to catch their breath and return to even ground. The last thing she wanted was to cause Trent any more stress.
CHAPTER4
“Let’s head over to the bike rental. And thank god there’s no singing involved this round.” Trent smiled down at Camille, eager to lighten up the mood again.
Why had he only told Camille about losing his career and not losing Polly? People tended to react strangely when he shared that he was a widower. No, it was better to keep it light for right now and not reveal too much. For all he knew, she might take back her ex and he’d never see her again after tonight.
Her lips curved up. “Yeah, it would be tough to sing and cycle across the Golden Gate Bridge.”
“And dangerous to the wildlife.” They hurried down the busy sidewalk, Christmas carols blaring from the bustling shops and scents of clam chowder and sourdough mingling with the salty ocean air.
When they reached the bike rental shop, a few competitors dressed in red were already in queue. Once it was their turn, they selected bikes and helmets with attached reindeer antlers.
Navigating the crowds and crossing the iconic bridge would be enough of a break to steer the conversation back to the competition and focus on having fun. Live in the present moment, and all that.
“Follow me, Dasher.” Camille mounted her 10-speed. She looked cute with her long blonde hair framing her face beneath the antlers and glittery green helmet.
“Lead the way, Vixen.” He winked. They proceeded single file along the marked bike lane, and he managed to keep his eyes on the road––mostly––but he couldn’t help but admire her heart-shaped butt.
When they reached the entrance of the bridge, the noise was deafening between the traffic and the gusts of frigid wind off the choppy, white-capped bay. Together they sped up and made it across in twenty minutes. When they reached the other side, she gestured toward a spot where they could actually talk over the noise.
“Sausalito isn’t too far. The Barrel Tavern is right on the water. You okay still following, or do you want to lead? I’d hate to disrupt spy protocol.” Camille smirked.
“I’ll allow it this time. You’re an excellent spy’s assistant.”
She took off down the hill and called over her shoulder. “Now that’s a compliment I’ve never heard before. Follow me.”
He stayed close behind, enjoying the crisp breeze and the sunshine on his face. Sausalito managed to elude the fog that often cloaked San Francisco. The charming streets of the small town appeared, twinkling lights and ornate wreaths decorating the Victorian storefronts and unique cafes.
Camille signaled she was turning toward Barrel House Tavern, when a car peeled around the corner, narrowly missing her. She swerved to avoid the reckless driver and flew over the handlebars toward the sidewalk. His heart rate accelerated and with a burst of adrenaline, he slammed on his brakes, tossed the rental bike aside, and sprinted to where Camille was sprawled on the cement. He knelt next to her, and his gut twisted into knots.
“Camille, are you okay?” His pulse thundered in his temples and his hand shook when he brushed it along her narrow shoulders.
