Page 393 of Rogue Riders Duet

He’s trying to look all confident, calm, and devastatingly hot, and it would be working, except a tiny pink nose twitches beside his ear, followed by a second, and a third, and then a fourth.

I bite my lip, hard, to keep the laugh down, because while Finn is being all heroic and steady, his hoodie is doing its best to strangle him under the combined weight of four tiny rats.

Luc was very sure Bristol was a boy when he bought him for Mason’s birthday.

Spoiler alert—she is not.

Honestly, it’s on brand. I mean, this is the same man who thought I was a guy for the better part of a season.

Thanks to that little misjudgment, we’ve got rats everywhere. Everyone has one now. It’s like a plague but adorable.

Mine is named Phoenix, a little white and dark brown fluffball who’s currently curled into the crook of Finn’s neck, nestled right up against Quebec, his all-white rat with a superiority complex. Their mom and dad are sleeping beside them, as if Finn is just another spot for a race-day nap.

And they’re not the only ones.

Piper has one. So does Dane, though he pretends he doesn’t like his, even though we all heard him coo at it last week. Otis usually carries his around like a lucky charm, tucked in his pocket whenever he’s not racing.

Right now, his is with Jim, who’s not only obsessed with his own little guy, but also with everyone’s. He even built them a full-on rat palace in the new team bus, complete with hammocks, tunnels, and a damn miniature ramp system.

It’s excessive but also kind of amazing.

After the Great Rat Surprise of the season, we made sure they were all fixed. Spayed. Neutered. Whatever the official term is for making sure Luc never accidentally starts a rodent dynasty again.

And that honestly feels like the most responsible thing this team has ever done.

Finn grins at my laughter before he brushes his nose against mine, and the weight of everything suddenly goes quiet.

“Kick their asses,” he whispers, and then he kisses me so soft and certain that everything stills. Well, until⁠—

“Hey!” Luc calls out, feigning outrage. “I heard that!”

Mason snorts. “Yeah, Greer. Way to stay professional. Very motivational. Inspiring for all your athletes. You’re so not playing favorites.”

Finn smirks, unbothered, and peels himself away from me. Then he steps over to Otis and holds out a fist. “Hit that.”

Otis fist bumps him with way too much enthusiasm. He loves the Offspring song Finn chose as his melody.

“I’m heading down now,” Finn announces, reaching out to steal Luc’s sunglasses right off his face and sliding them on as he backs toward the gondola station. “Gotta be at the finish when you maniacs come through.”

“Hey!” Luc calls after him. “What about us, coach? No pep talk? Nothing inspirational?”

Finn lifts his hand lazily and flips Luc off over his shoulder without breaking stride. “There’s your inspiration.”

Luc cups his hands around his mouth. “We love you, too, Papi!”

I’m still snickering when an official walks over, headset crackling. “Fisher’s up next. Delacroix, Payne, Crews, you’re on deck.”

“Okay, let’s do this, team!” Otis hops off his bike with a little flair and struts with it toward the start line after the official.

I watch him go, a fond smirk tugging at my lips.

Hiccup.

Dammit.

Mason turns, eyebrows raised. “For real? You’re that nervous?”

I shoot him a glare. “You’re not?”