Page 150 of Rogue Riders Duet

“So, how’re you finding France? Bit of a change from the States, huh?”

“It’s good.” I shrug, keeping my gaze ahead, pretending to focus on the rocky outcrop we’re approaching.

“Good.” Isla’s smile curls. “Did one of the big teams finally snap you up after that win?”

“Still running privateer,” I say, letting the words hang.

She hums. “Makes it all the more impressive, really. I don’t think there was ever a privateer who won a World Cup run. Winning like that without a full support crew behind you. Alone.” She drags out the word, watching for a reaction.

I give her none.

She presses closer, her shoulder nearly brushing mine as we round a corner. The trail dips into a loose gravel section, roots sneaking out from beneath the earth.

“Need a line suggestion?” she teases when I come to a stop, her voice dipping lower. “Wouldn’t want to see you wash out after such a big win.”

I bark a laugh before I can stop it, shaking my head. “I think I’ll manage.”

“You sure?” She leans in anyway, her voice a purr right near my ear. “Could always take a private session. I’m told I’m very hands-on.”

I jerk slightly, heat rising under my skin. Not from the flirting, but from the rage sitting just beneath.

Is that what she did with Mason?

But I force a smile, turning to face her fully. “Appreciate the offer, but I think your hands are better off on your own bars.”

“Isla, you’re trying to coach the rookie now?” Isaac Raine’s voice comes from behind her, and my chest goes tight, but I school my face as he strolls down the trail from the upper section, his line spotter trailing a few steps behind.

“No coaching.” Isla flips her ponytail, smiling back at him. “Just offering a little guidance.”

Raine’s eyes flick to me, settle there, and for a second, it’s like we’re the only two standing on this mountain.

“Little Crews,” he drawls with a smirk, and I hate that he uses a variation of the nickname Luc gave me. “Hell of a run in Austria.”

I nod once, tightly. “Thanks.”

He cocks his head, the smirk turning into a lazy grin. “Didn’t know you had it in you. Thought you’d flame out after Poland. Guess I was wrong.”

The dig lands softly, but it lands. My jaw ticks, but I don’t bite. “Guess you were.”

Isla hums a laugh, stepping just a little closer to her brother’s side, brushing her shoulder against his like she’s part of him, the way she always has been.

Raine scans the trail, nodding toward the berm ahead. “Watch yourself here. A lot of guys come in too hot.”

He doesn’t say like you will.

Doesn’t have to.

“Appreciate the concern, but I’m not planning on going down.” I keep my gaze steady on him because when they fall, it’s going to be a long, hard drop.

Raine’s eyes stay on me, sharp enough to cut, but his lips are still in that easy, effortless grin of his. “We’ll see how long you last, rookie.”

“Long enough,” I fire back, my voice flat, even though my pulse is kicking hard beneath my skin.

“Come on, Isaac,” Isla coos, looping her arm through his like we’re all just having a friendly chat. “Don’t scare him off before race day.”

Isaac doesn’t respond or even glance her way. He just gives me one last look like he’s already figured me out before turning to the trail again. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Isla lets go of her brother and reaches into the side pocket of her pack, fishing out a marker and uncapping it with a pop. “I’m giving you my number.” She reaches for my wrist, and it takes everything in me not to yank my arm back.