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“I’d love to, but I don’t have my bike with me.” I feel the heat creeping up my neck.Could I have been more unprepared for this day?
“Not a problem. You can try a demo bike.” He hands me another card. “That’ll get you a free rental. I’m partial to Yeti, but Santa Cruz makes a great bike too, and we’ve got both in the shop. Take one out for a few runs. I’ll try to join you after I finish payroll.”
I accept the second card with a nod and head over to the bike shop to gear up, figuring it might make sense to report back on how the park rides. And, okay, I figure I might as well enjoy this perk while I can since it's unlikely I’ll be involved in whatever Carter does going forward.
Lift operators load my bike onto the chair for me, and then it’s a peaceful ten-minute ride to the top of the hill before another set of attendants have my bike waiting for me when I get off.I always preach that you have to earn the downhill, but I could seriously get used to having a motor do all the work.
Choosing a blue for my first run—a warm up—I pedal down a gradual slope before dropping into a series of S curves with berms so high I can lay the bike parallel to the ground as I whip around the turns.Damn, that’s a rush.Then I’m in the trees, floating over a series of rollers that make my belly drop like I’m on a roller coaster. The run finishes in a meadow with sweeping turns where I can pick up speed despite the fact that I'm barely going downhill.
I hit a black run next, balancing on my pedals as I roll over a rocky steep that mimics a staircase. Then it’s onto a dirt section in the trees where roots jut out of the ground to interrupt the smooth flow of the trail. Massive tabletop jumps complete the run, giving me a chance to grab some big air.
By the time I’ve explored just about every run available, my legs are burning and my chest doesn’t feel so hollow. A good bike ride has that effect, wearing me out even as it rejuvenates me. Feeling content, I return the gear and head back to the hotel, intending to shower and order room service. But the quiet of my room feels oppressive after sharing a room with Jace, so I head back to the bar hoping it will distract me for the few hours I have to kill before crawling into bed.
Chapter 6
Becca
Thesunhasstartedits descent by the time I catch up enough to call it a day, making me wonder why I bother with vacation when all the stress it’s supposed to relieve comes back the moment I see all the work that piled up in my absence. The only consolation is that my to-do list is on the mountain instead of some stuffy office. Jackson may get the bigger paycheck, but I’ve got the better job, or so I like to believe.
Tossing my bag in the passenger seat, I go through the motions of heading home, only to realize I have nothing to go home to. The fridge is just as bare as the house itself, and I don’t have the energy to survive a trip to the grocery store. Even if there was food, it’s hard to muster the excitement to cook for one, which is why I’ve rarely done it since Brian moved out nearly a year ago. Looks like I’m eating out again.
“Hey, Becca. The usual?” Jason sets my favorite beer in front of me, a Hefeweizen with an orange slice.
“I feel like I should say no and try something different, but how do I pass up perfection?” I lift the pint glass to my lips and take a sip, closing my eyes as the cool liquid hits my tongue.Why does a cold beer taste so good at the end of the day?
“One Reuben, coming up.” He gives me a playful wink as he keys in my order. “How was your trip?”
“Meh. Don’t get me wrong, it was nice to see my sister and my nephews, but do you know how exhausting little kids are?”
“How old are they?” he asks as he fills a glass from the tap.
“Charlie is four and Henry is two, and aside from naptime they don’t sit still.”
“Too young to ride bikes, then?” He arches a knowing brow in my direction, daring me to admit I didn’t try to stick them on two wheels.
“Yes, smartass, we did ride bikes. And played superheroes. And watched shows about superheroes. And dressed like them.”
“At least you didn’t have to play tea party, although I bet the pink hair would’ve worked well with a princess costume.” He gives a long strand a playful tug.
“Take that back. This isn’t princess pink, it's flamingo.” I snatch my hair and yank it out of his grip.
“Why flamingo?” he frowns.
“Cause those birds are tough as hell,” I recite my favorite fact. In addition to being aggressive when the situation calls for it, flamingos can withstand some pretty cold temperatures, so while they look gentle, they can be fierce. I like to think I’m the same way. They’re also exceptionally loyal, which is maybe why I stayed with Brian longer than I should’ve, but that’s beside the point.
Jason laughs and drifts off to help another customer, leaving me to sit with my thoughts, which aren’t the best company. I’ve been feeling sort of off lately—hence my vacation—although it didn’t have the effect I wanted.
Despite having a job I love, I feel stuck in a rut. Professionally I’ve hit the ceiling, until Jackson retires, anyway. Which likely won't happen anytime soon given that he’s only about five years older than me. Personally, I’m a disaster, still bitter about my last relationship and questioning myself at every turn thanks to Brian’s insinuation that he cheated because I’m “not feminine enough.”
Right after he dropped that bombshell I decided to retaliate with a little affair of my own, and for a moment there I managed to convince myself that I was plenty feminine. My partner certainly thought so, and even though it was just the one night he made me feel better about myself than Brian ever did, despite two years together. That night got me through months of self-doubt, but here I am, still single and unintentionally celibate nearly a year later, which is starting to freak me out.
Part of that is my fault. I’m not good at putting myself out there, and I can’t really expect people to approach me if I don’t look approachable. But—and here’s the rub—maybe guys don’t want a woman who wears bike shorts and sports bras instead of dresses and sexy lingerie, just like Brian said.
No matter how much I try to ignore it, the guy is in my head, and I’m starting to wonder if the only way to get him out is a change of scenery. That’s the real reason I went to visit my sister, to see if a fresh start might get me out of my funk. Only her scenery didn’t do anything for me. I want green mountains, not red cliffs, so for now I guess I’m home?
I take another sip of beer as my eyes wander around the restaurant, landing on a stranger sitting at the opposite end of the bar.Talk about new scenery.Although, he’s not exactly a stranger in the sense that I recognize him from the mountain.
Some people just belong on two wheels, and this guy is one of them. He rides like the bike is an extension of his body, tethering him to the trail despite the fact that he’s not actually touching it. Fast but not reckless, he whipped over terrain a novice would consider a joyride, and floated over obstacles even seasoned riders don’t attempt. I’ll own it—the way he rides made me wet with desire—and that’s saying something because I’m hard to impress. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, strictly because of his grace on the bike, and once I got a look at that face I was done for.
