Page 227 of Rogue Riders Duet
Even when it’s hard.
I swallow the lump in my throat and meet Élise’s steady, patient gaze.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll go.”
TEN
Hiccup.
Dammit.
The whir of my rear wheel spins steadily beneath me as I’m perched on my bike at the top of the mountain, locked in the final few minutes before call-up to the last race of the season, and trying desperately to find the zone.
But of course, Finn won’t shut the fuck up.
“You’re grinding like a retiree at a Zumba class,” he says, arms folded as he leans against a tent pole, smirking like he knows exactly how to get under my skin.
“Finn,” I snap. “Shut it.”
He just chuckles, unbothered. “You gonna make me?”
I don’t even hesitate. I unclip, swing off the bike, and stomp toward him. “Yes. Yes, I fucking am.”
“Oh shit.” Finn’s eyes light up as he pushes off the pole and takes off running across the warm-up zone. “Catch me if you can, Al!”
The entire prep area is full of juniors on rollers, coaches on radios, mechanics with torque wrenches, and everyone stops to look at the commotion Finn and I are causing.
I chase him anyway because fuck them.
They already hate me, might as well give them a show.
Finn’s laughter rings out, bright and stupid, and I grin despite myself while we zigzag through the maze of tents and trainers. I even knock over a couple of cones as I barrel after him.
“Stop, you damn children!” Dane’s voice follows us. “This is not the fucking place!”
I glance over my shoulder and laugh at him, but Finn is still just ahead, his red cap flipped backward, blond strands bouncing as he dodges a mechanic. I nearly catch him, but then I skid to a stop when someone rounds the corner and steps right into my path.
Mason Payne.
Panting, I look up at him, but he doesn’t move, just tilts his head a little, eyes dragging down and back up like he’s scanning me, before there’s a tug at the corner of his mouth—a barely-there smile.
Heat blooms in my cheeks, and I’m about to look away when Finn barrels back into view, grinning like an idiot, and scoops me up and over his shoulder before I can escape.
I squeal, pounding my fists against his back. “Finn!”
“You’ve got a race in five, baby girl.” He’s already walking back toward my bike. “Can’t have you spending all your energy trying to murder me.”
“Put me down!”
“Say please.”
“Fuck you.”
“That’s my girl.”
“I swear to God,” Dane pants, his chest heaving as he finally catches up, “I’m going to staple your feet to the ground, Speedbump.”
I’m pushing myself halfway upright, and the blood is roaring in my ears from the run and the view, which, unfortunately, includes Finn’s very smug ass.
