Page 21 of Don't Brake My Heart
Maybe I hadn’t been hiding as well as I’d thought. ‘Yes,’ I squeaked.
‘Are you sure? The phone seems to be pointed at the floor.’
I hastily raised it again, giving myself a shake, although that didn’t help my temperature, because he looked just as tasty on screen as he did in real life. I had to change the subject before I went up in flames and the soigneur had to sweep my ashes into the trash.
‘Want to tell me about your tattoos?’ As subject changes went, it was out of the frying pan and into the fire, but I’d said it now and had to keep a straight face as he lifted a brow at me.
The strength coach made a few final adjustments to the computer running the stationary bike and excused himself, gesturing for the soigneur to follow, and suddenly I was a little too alone with Colin, who was a little too unclothed.
‘Or… don’t tell me. It’s up to you.’
‘No worries,’ he said with half a smile. His bright eyes were locked on me. Keeping up the pedalling through the warm-down programme, he twisted on the bike to stretch his left arm out for the camera. ‘This one needs no explanation. The five stars of the Southern Cross for Australia. I got it done when I won the National Under-23 title the first time and added the rings when I got selected for the Olympics.’
No one could accuse him of flirting right now, but it seemed he could say anything and I’d feel it under my skin.
‘I didn’t manage the win at Nationals this year, but my sister did. She’s been through hell recently, so she deserves a bit of glory.’
I wanted to ask about his relationship with Lori, but I was scared of going soft on him and he kept speaking anyway, before I had a chance to press.
Straightening, he gestured to the compass, just below where the heartrate monitor was strapped around his chest. ‘The compass pointing northwest for Europe. I mean, from Australia, Europe is northwest on the usual world map projection. This is where my parents come from and where I’ve spent most of my career.’ He looked up suddenly. ‘You’ve been very restrained.’
I had. My feet hadn’t moved even an inch in his direction, even while my eyes had slid over his skin. But he couldn’t have meant that.
Stopping the video, I said, ‘Hmm?’ rather stupidly.
‘You haven’t mentioned my middle name.’
Only about a hundred times in my head. ‘I haven’t looked it up.’
When he grinned at me, it was all cheek. ‘Liar.’
It was completely irrational how that word, spoken in his deep, soft voice, could seep so far into my skin, especially when it was an accusation. When he said it, it felt like praise.
‘It’s not relevant,’ I insisted, hoping he wouldn’t read anything into my breathy voice. Lifting my phone, I started recording again, clearing my throat before asking, ‘What about the dragon tattoo?’
‘You’d better go around the back to get a shot of that artwork,’ he said.
I made my way to the other side of the room, where I could record the rear view for my avid audience. ‘Are you sure you mean the tattoo?’
It just slipped out before I could judge the wisdom of teasing him. He spluttered a laugh and peered over his shoulder at me, making those butterflies in my stomach flock wildly.
‘You can be damn certain this arse is a work of art, d—’ He cut himself off. ‘Probably shouldn’t call you darlin’, right? At least not while you’re recording.’
‘You probably shouldn’t say “ass” either.’
‘You said it last.’
Lowering my phone with a sigh, I marvelled at how quickly this conversation had spiralled out of control when we’d been left alone together. Maybe there had been a potion in that slagroomtaart back in September, because I’d never been this much of a wreck around him before.
‘You still recording, Kubicka?’
‘Yes,’ I said in such a rush that it emerged an octave too high. Staring into my phone screen, the first thing I saw was that dragon tattoo, writhing between his shoulder blades, its wings open and bowed as though in pain. Next to it was a tiny drop of blood, spilled when the soigneur had pricked his ear.
My throat thickened, pondering the image, wondering if there was an allegory hidden there. How did he feel about the upcoming trial by endurance? It was three weeks and over 2,000 miles of hurting, endless opportunities to screw up and only a fleeting few for glory.
My heartbeat echoed in my ears as my thoughts raced ahead to July, when he would carry the future of the team up and down mountains and through every battle on the road. Damn it, I cared. This choking anxiety was one of the reasons I’d decided to retire and I feared it could be even worse, given I couldn’t do anything but watch and feel frustrated.
‘Lees? You all right?’
