Page 46 of Head Over Wheels

I wanted her to win. I also wanted her to stop and let me wrap her in a towel and usher her into a steamy shower with scented soap and clean up every inch of her. As she juddered over the cobbles, her expression twisted, I wished I couldcreate some kind of telepathic bond using chunky metallic props where I could take the pain from her.

But she could handle the pain. She was tough, and had I ever seen anything so beautiful in my life? I certainly had never looked at someone andwantedso much. What if I hadn’t turned her down in Siena? She would probably hate me by now, she’d had such continuing rotten luck.

But as the gold chain glinted in a weak flash of sunlight, my skin felt too tight as I imagined her hanging it around her neck and thinking of me, of that evening in Siena.

She would tease me so badly if I ever told her what I was thinking. But maybe she’d kiss me afterwards – or maybe I was dreaming. I felt Colin’s gaze on me and, when I risked a quick glance at him, I suspected I wouldn’t even need Lori to tease me because her brother was about to take on the task – with relish.

But before Colin could say anything, the commentator cut in with a cry. ‘Oh! What is going on here?’

Chapter 18

Seb

‘She’s slipped! Is it a loose stone? No, she’s dropped her chain.’ My heart in my throat, I watched her leap off the bike, leaning over the frame to grab the slipped chain. ‘That’s poor timing, but we’ve seen it again and again on these surfaces. Gallagher isn’t even today’s first victim of the cobbles.’

It was helicopter footage now, hovering over her as she wrestled with the pedals but, because she was capable and hot and utterly amazing, she got the chain back on in a few seconds. Just as the peloton swooped past, she threw her leg over the saddle and set off again, Doortje hanging back to help her get up to speed.

Watching her standing on the pedals, my eyes wandering the lines and curves of her body and remembering her skin under my fingertips, my mouth, I had to have a firm word with myself to settle down, especially given that Colin was in the room.

‘Come on, Lore,’ I couldn’t help muttering. I needed herto put me out of my misery. It was so much worse than racing myself, which made me uneasy.

She and Doortje weaved their way painstakingly through the pack while I tugged at my hair. The breakaway had lost time against the peloton. She could still do it. She was wearing my necklace; shehadto succeed.

Colin was mercifully silent. But when the commentator grew animated again, we both shot off the beds to peer more closely at the screen.

‘There’s a ruckus in the peloton! Someone’s gone down – more than one. They don’t call the Paris-Roubaix the Hell of the North for nothing. The peloton has ground to a halt, but Laura Colombini has escaped – there she goes. Given Gallagher’s luck this season, I’m expecting— Yep, there she is, off to the side. What is—?’

‘Fuck!’ Colin bit out.

If she’d moved off the road, that wasn’t good. It might mean medical intervention. I couldn’t breathe. What if her back injury caused more problems? I saw flashes of her skin behind my eyes again, but in a different context: the puckered slash of scars on her arm and her back.

The camera zoomed in on her as the nearest team support car pulled up and one of the assistants jumped out. The next minute, I had to flinch and cover my eyes as she yanked her arm at a strange angle.

‘Dislocated shoulder,’ the commentator confirmed – unnecessarily for me. ‘If she can get it popped back in, she might still finish, but I think this is the end of Gallagher’s chances of winning this one. Bitterly disappointing.’

‘You can look now. She got it back in,’ Colin said flatly.

‘Putain de merde,’ I cursed under my breath, watching her climb back on and start pedalling. I’d had my share of dislocated shoulders – enough to know it hurt like hell. To finish another five sections of cobbles with her hip scraped and her shoulder throbbing, she’d have to be superhuman.

Colin’s phone vibrated and he glanced at the message. ‘The DS is telling her to DNF.’

I nodded, awash with relief, even as I knew she’d hate to abandon the race. On the screen, she rolled to a stop, her head hanging. Then, because Lori never did anything by halves, she ripped her earpiece out and flung the cable to the side of the road with an angry flourish.

Covered head to toe in mud, she let her bike clatter to the ground, giving it a swift kick, and then another when that obviously wasn’t enough. When an assistant went to her, she shoved him away before grabbing her shoulder with a howl of pain.

‘Ah, fuck, it’s popped out again,’ Colin said grimly.

Pressing the balls of my hands into my forehead, I wanted to get on my bike and race to Roubaix right then. She turned to me when she lost and that didn’t feel like such a bad thing if she’d let me wrap my arms around her as she yelled and cried and let it all out.

I glanced at my phone, wondering if she’d believe me if I told her I was so impressed with her fight today and that meant I was allowed to text her.

‘Dad’s not going to be happy,’ Colin mumbled and I turned,realising only then that I was leaning over the laptop, propping myself up on my knees. ‘She’s supposed to race the Amstel Gold in a week.’

‘She can’t stop a peloton crash.’

‘No, but she’s stubborn – and got stuck in her own head. She lashes out when she’s down. She’ll regret it tomorrow.’

That sounded familiar.

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