“Qu’est-ce que vous faites, mes amours?”I ask as I stroll up, stopping just short of Mason’s foot.
He squints up at me through the sun. “You know I don’t understand shit when you speak French.”
I grin. “I was asking, what are you guys doing?”
“Just checking everything over. Gonna take it for a spin in Italy and have to make sure it runs clean.”
I raise a brow. “Why wait till Italy? Wanna go for a ride now?”
His fingers still. “Can we even ride anywhere around here?”
“There’s a dirt track twenty minutes from here. Maybe less if you let me drive.”
“That close?” Alaina asks, tilting her head at me.
“Bienvenue en campagne. We’re living in the middle of nowhere. It’s mountain biking, motocross, lavender, and sheep. That’s what we have.”
Alaina snorts, and I shoot her a wink.
“Sure.” Mason turns to her, hesitant. “You wanna?” But then his eyes drop to her hand, and his brows twitch. “Or we can do something else.”
“Ah,merde.” I smack my own forehead. “I forgot about that. Sorry,Petite.”
She blinks. “What?”
“Your fingers,” Mason states as if it’s obvious. “You need your left hand for the clutch. And you can’t brak?—”
“You wanna tell me what I can and can’t do now?” She asks, her voice sharp as she stands, and the sun hits her, no hoodie, no binder, just a tee and bike shorts that hug her like a second skin.
Damn, she’s hot.
Her thighs are thick with muscle and cut from years of racing, flexing with every subtle shift of weight.
Strong.Beautiful.
“Uh-oh.” I smirk. “You made her mad.”
“No.” Mason puts up his hands in surrender. “But youcan’thold on to a motocross like that. Not properly.”
She folds her arms and pushes her perfect tits up with the movement. “I can hold onto a bike just fine. I’llhaveto next week.”
“But your downhill bike isn’t shooting forward at seventy kilometers an hour,” Mason argues, and honestly, I’m impressed he stands up to her like that. I would have already folded.
I tilt my head. “Good thing we brake with our forefinger and middle finger, or you wouldn’t be racing next week either.”
She turns to me, raises a brow with that smug curve to her lips that hits me right in the fucking chest. “You brake?”
Goddamn.
Fuck, I love this woman.
I’m about to kiss her just because I can and because she’s perfect for me, when Mason sighs and stands, wiping his hands on a cloth, looking biteable.
“I just don’t feel like it’s a good idea.”
“Come on.” I throw my arm around his shoulder. “Don’t be like that. If she wants to go, we go. If it doesn’t work, she sits behind you or me.”
Mason glares up at me. “We’re not gonna make her backpack on a motocross, that’s way too dangerous.”
