Page 54 of The Side Road
One article said his legacy was not the time he spent on the podium, but his determination. In a quote, Oliver stated, ‘The only reason I’m here is to win.’ Another newsfeed referenced his mechanical ability; he knew his bikes better than any other rider on the track. He could diagnose an issue before his team knew there was a problem.
His persona on tour was the quiet, shy type. Affable was how the sports journalists described him. The easy-going Australian with an infectious smile and a lovable personality. He held onto that smile even when things didn’t go his way. Underneath, he was fiercely competitive, and the centre stage suited him.
Then, in one of the biggest stories to rock the sport, he retired due to personal reasons. What did that mean…personal reasons? She looked at Snood. He didn’t have the answer.
There was only one more thing she wanted to know: his age. At the peak of his career, he was twenty-five. As her fingers tapped the keyboard, she said, ‘Please, be forty.’ There was no way he was forty. ‘At least thirty-six. Please be thirty-six. Or thirty-five.’
He was thirty-one. Five years younger than her.
Mia closed her laptop. She could talk herself out of this.
17
A HUG
Standing in the shower,Oliver cupped his hands together and caught the water from the faucet. When his palms were full, he pulled them apart and watched the puddle splosh onto the floor. It had been quite some time since his last proper date. He wasn't even sure this was a date; it felt more like a midday rendezvous at a woman’s house.
Dates, when he used to go on them, were like auditions. Usually, this was an audition for sex. He didn’t think sex was on the cards. On a first date, you wanted the woman to like you. He already knew Mia liked him. Most people liked him. Still, he wanted to make a good impression.
It was time to review what he knew about her. Clever, obviously. Her knitting business was impressive, and he found her success alluring. Beautiful, she had amazing eyes. Serious, but she laughed easily. Tash liked her, which was important. The woman rode a motorbike…badly. But she knew her limits. Her safety was paramount, so he would assist her with this regardless of their relationship.
In the shower, he lathered his hair. Washed and dried hisbody. Shaved and then dressed in the shirt that she liked. In front of the mirror, he fussed over his hair. His curls wouldn’t sit right.
‘Relax,’ he told himself. ‘She likes you. It’s just lunch. Lunch with a beautiful woman at her place. The old convent. How bizarre.’
In town, he stopped at the florist. It wasn’t an easy decision. Roses were too serious and daisies too light-hearted. Other red varieties felt too intense, while the white ones looked too formal. He settled on a bouquet of natives in autumnal tones with dark green foliage. Attractive, but casual.
At 11.45, he parked the Citroën outside Mia’s house. In his haste, he had misjudged the time it took to buy wine and flowers. He tilted his head back and stared at the roof of the car. ‘Get a grip. She won’t care if I’m early.’
After collecting his offerings, he climbed out of the car. The house was as he remembered – a post-and-rail fence, a stone façade, a cottage garden, and a bullnose veranda across the front deck. The only change was that it looked half the size. Time had a way of shrinking expectations.
After scaling the steps, he knocked on the front door.
Mia answered, wearing a short, loose-fitting orange dress with capped sleeves. A pair of fluffy socks kept her feet warm.
‘Oliver. My god, you’re early,’ she said.
‘I can wait if…’
‘It’s fine.’
He handed her the flowers.
‘Thoughtful. Thank you.’
‘You look amazing.’
She frowned, uncomfortable with the compliment. Snoodscooted past her and pawed Oliver’s leg. He gave the dog some much-appreciated attention.
As he entered the house, he asked, ‘Shoes on or off?’
‘I don’t mind. Either is fine.’
He kept his shoes on. The look on her face; she was nervous. He grinned at her socks.
She followed his gaze. ‘I’ll find my shoes.’
They headed down the hallway.
