Page 7 of Don't Brake My Heart
But it wasn’t me pulling on the tight Lycra skinsuit this time. I didn’t even want to touch a bike.
‘Yep. I had those days too,’ Wil said with a smile. ‘You’ll need to meet with Tony and the directeur sportif to go over some conditions, but you know all about how things work. Tony was looking forward to catching up.’
That made one of us. I knew he’d be all father-like and comment on how good I looked – likely without meaning it – and I didn’t want to hear it. Plus, I couldn’t be certain how much he knew about what had happened in September.
That was when I heard it – that voice, coming from right behind me.
‘Fancy meetin’ you here.’
My throat closed and goosebumps whooshed up my arms. Here was the guy who’d brought down my entire career – okay, I knew that was unfair, but it was still difficult to swallow the bitterness he triggered in me. Worse was the kernel of confusion – the memory of what had happened after my last race and how I’d felt… something that made no sense.
I tried to turn around, opening my mouth to speak, but only an inarticulate wheeze emerged. Oh, God, it was worse than I’d thought.
Wil came to my rescue. ‘Colin! Good, you’ve come straight to see me. You remember Leesa from the women’s team? What a coincidence, she’s back with us.’
He swallowed audibly. ‘I don’t believe in coincidences. Leesa must be back where she belongs.’
His words cut a tear somewhere only he could touch, stirring everything up. Forcing myself to face him, I found those dark blue eyes on me and an open-mouthed half-smile that strongly suggested he was remembering something different about me from what Wil had mentioned.
But, as my eyes dragged themselves to the familiar shape of his mouth, I noticed the bristle of hair above the top lip.
‘What is that fluff on your face?’ Oops, that probably wasn’t the best thing to say the first time I’d seen him after… everything.
He straightened, which only drew my attention to his eye-popping body, lean and strong with muscle definition up the wahoo – cords and ridges down his chest, scars raised on his skin. Whatever his flaws, no one could accuse Colin Gallagher of not taking his fitness seriously. My gaze snagged on the oozing wound on his elbow and then the rip in his jersey, exposing a scrape and a hint of more tight muscle on his abdomen.
‘What happened?’
He waved a hand in front of my face. ‘Just a little altercation with the road. Nothing Doc Angie can’t patch up – unless you want to give me a hand with that?’
Phew, I needed to work up some immunity to him. He was good-looking at first glance, but the shock of his deep voice ramped him up to devastating. At least so much shit emerged from his mouth that I had a chance. A couple of days and I’d be back to busting his balls like before.
Rubbing his fingers thoughtfully over the moustache, a shade redder than his hair, he gave me a world-class pout. ‘But don’t you like the ’tache? I thought it gives me a certain… je ne sais quoi.’ I knew he could actually speak decent French, so he either had a terrible accent or he’d mangled the pronunciation on purpose.
‘You look like a serial killer.’
He laughed, propping his hands on his hips. ‘Is that a compliment?’ he drawled with a wink, ducking his head until he was a little closer – close enough to suck some of the air out of my lungs. ‘Who would I be killing at this altitude?’
My composure.
‘I’ll leave you two to get re-acquainted,’ Wil said with a smile, hopefully as oblivious to the churning undertones between Colin and me as she appeared.
When she’d left, his smile was back. ‘Re-acquainted?’ he repeated with a lift of his brows.
‘Colin, can you drop the act for a moment. We need to talk.’ Without thought, I grabbed his forearm and steered him towards a table.
‘What act?’ he prompted as he sank into a chair. Palms up, arms wide, he continued, ‘What you see is what you get.’
Fuck my life.
‘You know what I’m talking about.’
‘If you mean when I brought you a cake and I asked if we could—’
‘I mean it!’ I snapped. ‘If we have any hope of a good working relationship, I need you to be an adult about this!’
‘Because I’m a boy in a man’s body who likes making trouble for other people for his own amusement, right?’
There was still a wobble of a smile on his lips, but the accusation in his words struck me in the chest. ‘If the shoe fits,’ I said defensively.
