A little farther down the mountain, I spot Greer crouched beside a nasty off-camber line, fingers skimming the dirt as if he’s reading braille. The man has been racing for so long, I’m pretty sure he could ride half the circuit blindfolded and still make it look smooth.
I like the guy. He’s fun. Bit of a legend. Kind of like amountain biking grandpa, if your grandpa had killer flow and could outdrink half the roster.
Maybe we can grab another beer today. Plus, I want my shirt back from Radek.
“Fancy seeing you here, Luc,” Finn says with a scoff without looking up.
What crawled up his ass?
Dane Crews stands next to him, arms crossed, inspecting the trail as well. He has that quiet kind of confidence only legends can pull off.
“Why?” Dane asks his friend, flicking a glance at me.
Finn straightens, his posture rigid as he answers him without looking at me. “Luc thinks track walks are boring.”
“They are.” I shrug.
Someone moves behind them, and I notice a third figure behind Dane. Hoodie up.
Huh.
The kid is quiet this time, but he had a mouth on him at the last race. Snapped back at me without flinching, seeming not to give a shit who I was. Which,bold move.
But he is bold, isn’t he?
Dropped half the field last weekend without blinking.
“You don’t look for a line before you go down?” the rookie asks skeptically.
Figures he wouldn’t keep the comments to himself.Again.
He’s even smaller up close and without the helmet.Petitindeed. Looks like someone should’ve packed him with the junior division, not sent him to take third in the big boys’ World Cup, but then again, hedid.
I tilt my head, giving him a grin that usually gets under people’s skin. “Where would be the fun in that?”
Finn answers again without looking at me, his tonesaying more than his words do. “He means he prefers flying blind and praying for miracles.”
“Pfft. I make miracles look good.” I don’t know what’s up with Greer. I thought we had fun partying last night, but he’s ice cold today. Shaking it off, I hold out a hand toward Dane. “Luc Delacroix. I know who you are, of course. Honor to meet you,mon ami. But I’m very sorry, I’ll be taking my fourth overall title this year, and nobody will talk about you anymore.”
Dane laughs and shakes my hand. “At least you’re polite about it.”
Beside him, the rookie mutters, barely loud enough to catch, “You wish.”
I blink. Slowly.
“You want to say something,seven?” I ask, all teeth and sweetness.
He shrugs. “Already did.”
Cocky little shit.
What’s his fucking problem?
“Come on, Al. Let’s figure out the next section.” Dane nudges him to move, probably because I was starting to look at the rookie like I was mentally mapping out where to aim first.
I’ve got a bit of a reputation for letting my fists handle my translation issues.
Dane and the rookie drift ahead, and I fall into step with Finn.
