Page 113 of Rogue Riders Duet

And if I don’t race, none of this means anything.

The pain kicks in harder with every step toward the pits, and by the time I hit the edge of Luc’s, every muscle from my hip to my abdomen is in full-blown rebellion. The pills I took earlier might as well have been Tic Tacs.

I’m second-guessing the plan to see Piper and not just drive to the nearest hospital when Luc steps out from the pit tent, laughing over his shoulder at something his mechanic says.

And just like that, the pain pauses.

Or maybe I forget it exists because Luc looks like he walked off the cover of Reckless Idiots Monthly. His shirt has ridden up his waist, exposing his V-lines. His hair is tousled, sunglasses pushed up into his mess of curls. He’s sun-drenched and smiling, and it’s offensive how hot he looks when I feel like a drowned rat.

Luc turns, sees me, and his whole face lights up like someone flipped a switch, making my heart do a stupid flip.

“Petit!” he calls out, already striding toward me. “Was just about to come looking for you.”

I clench my fists at my sides, unsure what to do with my hands. “You were?”

“Yeah.” He grins, slowing as he gets close, reaching out to stroke my cheek with the knuckles of his hand. “Thought maybe you wanted to go out and eat a Kaiserschmarrn. Ever had one? I could bathe in them.”

I laugh. “You could what?”

“Bathe. Full body immersion,” he says with a dramatic hand gesture down his perfectly shaped body. “They’re these fluffy, shredded pancakes? Drenched in powdered sugar and jam. Sweet, buttery, caramelized sin.”

I actually had one with Dane and Finn the last time we raced here. We’d crammed into a corner booth after practice, Finn snatching bites from my plate, Dane pretending to be mad about it.

I shove that memory down hard and fast.

“What do you think?” Luc’s blue eyes twinkle before they heat up a notch. “Or did you come over for another cuddle session? I’m down for that too.”

“No.” I bite my lip, and his gaze follows the movement before he searches the rest of my face, and the flirt vanishes from his face in a blink.

“You okay?” He tilts his head and squints at me like he’s trying to x-ray my bones. “Did you hurt yourself during practice?”

“No.”

I did the bare minimum today, just enough not to raise questions. Skipped the segments where I’d normally push myself and let the others ride ahead while I hung back like I was line-watching, which is total bullshit.

Luc steps closer. “Is the bruise still hurting? Fuck, I haven’t even looked.” He reaches out, his fingers brushing the hem of my hoodie like he’s about to lift it.

“Luc.” I catch his wrist. “It’s not that. Is Piper here?”

His brows pull together. “Why?”

“I need her.”

“Then let’s get her.” He grabs my hand and leads me through the pit, nodding to people as we pass, and I feel the questioning glances, the ones that wonder what I’m doing here, but Luc doesn’t seem to care.

He pushes open the back door to the massage and recovery area like he owns the place. “Otis, get your naked ass out of here!”

“Delacroix!” Piper’s voice snaps from inside. “You can wait for your session like everybody else!”

“I sure can…” Luc says smoothly, “… but Petit Crews can’t.”

A beat of silence follows, then Piper appears in the doorway, mouth already in a frown as she scans me from head to toe. “You okay?”

I shake my head minutely, just once.

Otis emerges from the room behind her, bare-chested, zipping up his shorts. And sure, he’s hot, like real hot. Pro rider hot. But standing next to Luc Delacroix?

Not even in the same solar system.