Page 62 of Head Over Wheels

‘It’s not personal,’ he insisted, turning back to the path with finality.

I wanted to keep him talking, but he pushed off and we settled into a rhythm again, which felt strangely like riding together online.

‘We’ll have to tell her about the fake thing,’ I mumbled. ‘She won’t be happy, right?’

‘Nope,’ he replied immediately. ‘What about your mum? Is she going to ask? Is she even in Europe?’

He couldn’t have known that the simple question made my spine freeze up. ‘She doesn’t come to Europe much these days. I’ll put her off somehow. She’ll probably be horrified. I promised her I’d focus and not get distracted this year.’

‘Bothof your parents push you?’

‘In their different ways,’ I said quietly. ‘Kind of “good cop, bad cop”.’ I swallowed heavily, hoping he wouldn’t pursue the topic.

‘Well, it won’t be long and you’ll be winning everything again and you won’t need me.’

He spoke brightly, but his words dug deep under my skin.For the briefest second, I wondered what it would be like if my losing streak continued – and so did this romance. Thisfakeromance. With a commitment-phobe. No, I didn’t belong here on a tandem bike with Seb, no matter how good he looked in a white T-shirt and a pair of supple old jeans.

‘It’s so… domestic here,’ I commented, changing the subject as we meandered along a narrow river.

He paused, as though deciding whether to let the topic drop. ‘There’s nothing that will kill you in Belgium, unlike in Australia,’ he joked lightly. ‘We have to make our own excitement.’

His excitement would not include me. Shaking off my stupid thoughts, I pointed out a family wrestling with a temperamental boat that had got stuck in the bushes. ‘You might have to learn to canoe after you retire,’ I teased, my tone dripping with mocking. ‘To guide all the guests at your fucking B&B.’

Chapter 25

Lori

‘It’s like an arranged marriage, but without the marriage?’

I’d known this odd discussion over dinner with every woman in Seb’s family wouldn’t be fun, but I was squirming in my seat before we’d even explained ourselves in a way that made sense. I wasn’t sure what was worse: Albertine’s persistent misunderstanding or the daggers Rôsine was shooting with her gaze. More concerning was Seb’s sister, who was still looking at me as though I were joining the family.

His little niece with her messy plaits piped up with something in French, to which Rôsine replied firmly. Denise stifled a smile.

‘Alice doesn’t speak English, but she understands more than we think,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘She just asked if Uncle Seb was getting married.’

It was my turn to choke on a roast potato.

The way we were sitting around the big scarred table in the kitchen didn’t help either. I was certain my chair wasdrifting closer to Seb’s as we faced the austere features of his mum and grandma, with Denise obviously enjoying herself on one end and her daughter gleefully arranging our marriage on the other.

‘It’s not anything like a marriage, Mamie,’ Seb said through gritted teeth. His elbow brushed my forearm and then stayed there as though for solidarity – or the same pleasant tactile sensations my skin experienced at the touch.

‘Nothing good ever came of marriage in this family,’ Albertine added emphatically. ‘So you’re having a fling privately and also having another fling publicly.’

I’d never seen Seb’s complexion quite that shade of scarlet. He glanced at me, the pressure of his arm growing, and all I could think about was the private fling. We hadn’t discussed that angle of the fake relationship. I held my breath as I met his stormy gaze, suspecting he was thinking about the same thing, but with reservations I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear.

‘It’s less complicated than some of my relationships,’ Denise pointed out, shooting us an amused, sympathetic smile.

‘How long are you staying?’ Rôsine asked, cutting straight to the practical stuff I wasn’t ready to deal with.

‘Maman, Lori’s a guest—’

‘It’s a fair question,’ I said, cutting him off.

Another stormy look. He dropped his arm, but then snaked it along the back of my chair and all my hair stood on end. ‘But first we’refriends– right? You’re welcome to stay.’

Albertine humphed. ‘Friends who—’

‘I’ll clean up!’ Rôsine interrupted her. Seb mumbledsomething about helping her before rising from his chair. His palm touched down between my shoulder blades and the breath left my lungs as though the light caress had been a blow. The stroke of his fingers along the back of my neck as he removed his hand was enough to set my skin on fire, my body growing heavy.

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