Page 38

Lori

Craning my neck over the gathered crowd, I held my breath waiting for my first look at the Harper-Stacked riders for the Tour de France.

My heart was looping in my chest, the beat so irregular I’d probably alarm a cardiologist right now and it had nothing to do with the Grand Départ tomorrow from this beautiful city on the Adriatic Sea, or the excitement of the team presentations currently under way.

It wasn’t my fitness, either. I’d just come down from three weeks at altitude training as though my career depended on it – and bickering comfortably with Doortje and trying not to resent Leesa Kubicka for being so damn clever and talented. I was in the shape of my life.

But right now, I was about to see Seb again and I suspected it would not be pretty.

I was in Trieste for the first two stages in Italy and Slovenia and I’d follow the team back to France until stage four.

In other years, I’d followed the team around and helped Dad and I was almost sorry I couldn’t this year, except that I’d never be sorry the organisers had finally introduced a women’s event with the same branding, starting when the men’s Tour finished, after a century of men-only competition.

The crowd cheered the next team to emerge from the arcade of the historic building across the square and they wheeled their way up onto the stage, their bikes extensions of their bodies.

Music played and the announcers spoke a chaotic mix of languages as the riders waved and threw signed caps and water bottles into the crowd.

I thought I caught a glimpse of blue and garish orange through the arches of the arcade signalling that Harper-Stacked was up next.

And then I heard a voice, which was definitely not the one I’d been desperate to hear. An arm slipped around my waist to give me a light squeeze.

‘Have I missed it? My flight was delayed.’

‘Mum?’ I said, whirling and stumbling. My heart sank, thoughts about winners and losers shooting through my brain as I imagined my parents fighting – or ganging up on me – or fighting about me.

She hesitated, studying me. ‘Is everything all right?’

My foot drummed on the floor of its own accord. ‘I didn’t know you were coming.’ I obviously hadn’t inherited Mum’s ability to keep a secret.

‘Colin didn’t mention it?’

I shook my head. ‘How long are you staying?’

‘You could just say “hello”, Lori. I was worried you wouldn’t be happy to see me. You’re so much like your father.’

‘Are you here to see Dad?’

She looked away. ‘Not exactly. Your brother invited me to come. It’s his first tour as lead rider. I’m not sure what your father will say about me turning up, but we’ll see.’

‘What do you mean you’re not sure what Dad will say?’

‘I don’t think Colin told him I was coming either.’ I expected her to look sheepish, but there were tight lines at the corners of her mouth. ‘You know your dad and I haven’t been…’

She gulped before she could finish the sentence or I could process anything about what she’d said that I wanted to understand. I already knew anyway, somewhere deep and dark inside me where I stuffed things I couldn’t deal with.

Over the loudspeaker, the announcer bellowed in French and Italian and although I could get by in both, that day it sounded like a bunch of gibberish, until he said with a flourish, ‘Harper-Stacked!’

I made out Colin across the square, doing wheelies, the charming idiot, for the cheering fans. The rest of the team filed out after them: Nellie and Derek, Amir and Lars and the others.

I recognised Seb as soon as he rolled out – last. Despite the helmet and sports sunglasses, the gloves and the team kit, I knew his shoulders, the way he sat effortlessly on the bike, as though he operated it with his thoughts.

Mum continued, oblivious, ‘I assume your father’s blaming me for everything. I don’t expect you’d understand, the way you gravitate to him. I’ve only ever tried to guide you to what’s best for—’

‘Mum!’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘Maybe I wouldn’t gravitate to him so much if you gave me the tiniest indication that you liked me as a person and not just a winner!

’ Her jaw dropped, but I didn’t waste time enjoying it.

I shoved my fingers into my mouth and whistled as loudly as I could. ‘Seb Franck is a smoking hottie!’

He looked up and that was all it took. I melted on the spot. The crowd would be picking bits of me off their shoes all evening and I might never reach a solid state again after he’d looked at me as though I was the sight he’d most wanted to see in weeks. I knew the feeling.

Next to me, Mum was gaping, but I ignored her, taking off in the direction of the barriers.

‘How can you say that?’ she huffed, bustling after me. ‘I love you, Lori.’

‘You’ve got a funny way of showing it!’

‘I just want you to meet your enormous potential.’

‘What about how I am right now? Is that good enough for you?’ Recovering from injury, messed up over a guy, restless as usual and belligerent as hell. But a mother should be the one to fucking love me. ‘Are you going to watch my Tour as lead rider?’

Her hesitation spoke volumes. ‘I didn’t think you wanted me involved.’ She had a point, but I didn’t want to concede it. ‘I know you’re struggling now, but you can be so much more. What is going on with that boy?’

With an indignant snort, I hurried ahead. Nothing would stop me finding that ‘boy’ and Mum knew nothing about how I worked inside.

The presentation had wound down, the announcer still speaking over the chaos as the crowd milled at the barriers. I pushed through, not caring what my elbows connected with or whether I should wait until the team arrived back at the crappy hotel.

Finally, I caught sight of him signing a child’s autograph book.

I leaned over the barrier and, as though he knew I was there, his gaze connected with mine and there was that smile again.

As soon as he came close enough, I grabbed at him, my fingers slipping on the Lycra as I wrapped my arms around him.

Thankfully for my dignity, he snaked an arm around me and lifted a hand to my hair.

And he kissed me without hesitation as though he’d thought of me as often as I’d thought of him, as though he’d spent the past two months waiting for this, picturing it with a dreamy smile, even though I wasn’t sure if we were still just faking it – if we’d ever been faking it.

The gloved hand in my hair tightened and a shiver shot through me.

His mouth moving, hot and deep, on mine was more than I’d remembered.

I brushed my thumbs over his cheeks and noticed he’d trimmed his beard short.

Rubbing my thumbs in the bristles, a grin grew on my lips and I planted another kiss on his mouth, a big, wobbly, smiley one.

Tilting his head, his kisses grew softer as well and I was falling to pieces, right there at the barrier, while the sun set over the Adriatic.

‘Hey, you,’ I said, with rare eloquence.

‘Hey.’ His voice was soft, curling around me.

But then I heard my brother calling, ‘You can stop now! The camera crew left before their footage could only be shown on adult websites!’

That made Seb pause, his fingers gentling.

With a sigh, he stepped back, fumbling under his chin to unclip his helmet and sweep it off.

Glancing around, I located the camera crew, chatting as they packed up their equipment.

Then my gaze settled on my mother, standing a few metres away, her expression frozen.

Ouch, I should have kept a better hold of myself.

‘Lori, are you going to introduce me to your—’

Fake boyfriend? Fuck buddy? Casual lover? Text-message bestie? Inappropriate distraction? I took a deep breath and gave the only answer I could.

‘No.’

Seb

There was something fraught in Lori’s expression as we ate dinner back at the hotel. While I was grateful she hadn’t dragged me to a table with her family, there was obviously something she wasn’t telling me.

Seeing her after two months had been potent, an unexpected mix of completely normal and desperately wonderful. Then I’d remembered the camera and with that, the ambiguous nature of our relationship.

She’d kissed me because she wanted to. Even I wasn’t stupid enough to think it had only been for show. But the Tour was still supposed to be the end of our performance. Her mum had been watching too and I didn’t know what that meant.

Paola Gallagher was still shooting glances in our direction from where she sat with Tony and Colin. Lori ignored her completely and everything she’d ever flippantly mentioned about her former triathlete mother whirled in my mind.

Lori ate quickly and I did the same, wondering, hoping we would get a chance to talk.

‘Do you want to… go somewhere?’ I ventured as she scooped up the last of her rice.

‘Do you need to rest?’

I shook my head with a faint smile. ‘There’s an easy walk to a little chapel up the hill. That’s our vibes.’

‘Our vibes are not grizzly relics and religious buildings, Seb,’ she said. ‘I’ve got an idea.’

‘O-kay,’ I replied, struggling to interpret the unexpected intensity in her expression.

Following her out of the dining room, I took her hand, slowing our steps through the lobby. ‘Are you in a hurry?’

‘Yep. To get out from under all of those eyes. You aren’t?

‘I suppose, but I was enjoying… this.’ I squeezed her hand, remembering with a warm glow her drunken admissions back in Liège that she’d probably be horrified to remember in detail.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said with a chuckle, drawing me towards the lift. Whispering in my ear, she continued, ‘You won’t have to take your hands off me for a while yet.’

My mouth went dry. Standing in the mirrored lift, meeting her gaze on several different angles, my mind raced with the sudden change of direction. ‘You have a single room,’ I guessed.

Her nod was enough to send heat racing up my spine.

I could still picture her in high definition, baring her throat as she arched on my small bed at home, awash with need.

My cheeks heated and my knees lost strength as I remembered what she’d coaxed out of me the last time we were together like that.

I was a darker ego, a deeper self when she offered me her body and it would have scared me except that she somehow held me together while I let it all out.

But there was still something in her eyes, in the slight wobble of her jaw. I suspected she didn’t want me to see it.

Catching her eye in the mirror as the lift ascended, I let her see my thoughts in the rise of my chest, a lick of my lips as my gaze wandered over her soft skin, the curve of her throat.

The slow perusal was torture for me too and I had to squeeze her hand hard so I didn’t reach for her already in the lift.

But as much as I wanted to close the door of her room behind us and reacquaint myself with all my favourite places on her body, I wanted her to tell me what was going on first.

After hurrying down the corridor together, she got the door open and a moment later she was reaching for me, biting her lip and tugging me against her.

Pressing her tight into the door and opening my mouth on her neck until she whimpered, I resisted the urge to devour and instead settled my hands firmly on her hips.

Then I whispered in her ear. ‘What’s wrong, Lore? Talk to me.’