Page 140 of Rogue Riders Duet

My thoughts are still tangled up in all the things I want to do to him when Petit’s breath evens out, his body sagging heavier into mine, sleep finally pulling him under.

My lower back protests the position and the weight on me, but I wouldn’t move for anything right now.

Toulouse stirs and crawls out from my hood. He stretches, then pads down to curl up in Petit’s lap. He yawns, tiny teeth flashing, and curls tighter into a ball, tail flicking once before he dozes off again.

“Like father, like son,” I murmur under my breath.

Neither of us is good at giving space, and neither of us knows how to back off when someone needs us.

Petit claims Toulouse is gross. He says we’re not friends.

But that’s the thing about my son and me, we’ll keep showing up, inching closer, and refusing to back off.

Until Petit figures out what we already know.

That he wants us right here.

And we’re exactly what he needs.

TWENTY-FIVE

“Putain, t’es tellement beau.”

Luc’s lilting voice faintly registers before I even feel myself waking, his words threading through the haze of sleep in that syrupy French that should be illegal.

I don’t know what it means, but the way his fingers sweep gently across my forehead, brushing back stray hair, makes me want to stay exactly where I am, warm, soft, and wrapped in a smell that’s too good, like clean cotton and something distinctly Luc. Sunshine and trouble.

Then he chuckles, a soft rumble against my ear. “Come on, none of those cute noises anymore, you’re driving me mad over here. Wake up, bébé.”

Cute noises?

My eyes blink open, and Luc’s face comes slowly into focus, his smug grin already locked and loaded. “How are you feeling?”

I groan, pushing up onto my elbows, my body protesting every inch. “Where am I?”

His grin widens. “In my bed.”

That jolts me upright, and I scan my surroundings. It’s cozy, with wide windows cracked open, and the walls are warm wood lined with shelves bearing an array of haphazardly stacked racing trophies.

“Wait, we’re already in France?” I blink, trying to piece the hours together, but it’s a blur. I think I only woke up once, somewhere in Switzerland, dragged myself upright just long enough to use the bathroom at a gas station, only to stumble back onto the bus and collapse into Luc’s waiting arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. I don’t even remember falling asleep again, just the feel of his heartbeat against my cheek and the way his fingers curved protectively around my spine.

Luc leans back against the headboard, arms folded behind his head, looking far too pleased with himself. “Bonneville, oui. We’re at my maman’s house. She insisted on making us dinner. I was going to let you sleep longer, but Dane wanted to get the bus to the pits before the light went.”

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, trying to stand, big mistake. Pain flares sharp and hot through my hip, radiating down to my lower back, curling around my abdomen.

“Fucking hell.”

Periods suck. Whoever designed this system should be fired.

Right into the sun.

Luc is already at my side, steadying me with gentle hands. “Here.” He grabs a small backpack and hands it to me. “Piper left this for you. Pain meds and water. You can use my en suite. It’s right there.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, forcing myself to my feet and half-stumbling into the bathroom.

The en suite is small but bright. And thank God, there are pads tucked into the backpack. Piper is a saint!

Once I’m done, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. The dark circles under my eyes aren’t as brutal as they’ve been lately. I look almost human. Almost rested.