Luckily, the one on the back still worked. A camper van drove around me at a passing place, a little too close for comfort, blasting its horn as it overtook. Probably waking the sheep.
Wobbling, I put my foot on the grass verge.
Just roll straight over me, why don’t you? You’ll get where you’re going three seconds faster, I wanted to shout, but it was already gone.
When it happened a second time, I shook my fist at the vehicle, my entire bike tipping to the left. “Roadhog! I bet you don’t stop at red lights either.”
Only to find Alistair staring back at me from the front seat of his Land Rover, a vein pulsing in his forehead. “What the fuck are you doing?”
8
Alistair
Wearing only a ridiculous sparkly pink helmet for protection, Isla actually had the gall to reply. “Me? What areyoudoing, pulling in like that? I thought I was about to be murdered.”
“Don’t count it out just yet.” I threw my hand out of the window. “That was a blind bend back there, I almost didn’t see you.”
“I cycle this route all the time.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Did the woman have zero self-preservation instincts? My heart felt like it was trying to batter its way out of my chest. “I’m beginning to think you have a death wish.”
“This is a popular cycle route, loads of people do it.”
Yeah, and I’d bet they wore full Lycra like they were prepping for the Tour de France. “Those idiots aren’t my concern.”
“And I am?”
Yes. The word filled every corner of my brain.
For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why I was drawn to this woman.
The only person I’d ever seriously dated was Juniper, and while we were a thousand shades wrong for each other, we’d at least made sense on paper. But Isla was a perfect fucking distraction. When we went at each other like this it was easy to forget how badly my efforts to repair community relations had crashed and burned back there.
Her hands flew to her hips with indignation. The bike wobbled, and she immediately gripped the handlebars. I felt my scowl deepen. How had she lived for this long when even her own lack of balance was attempting to kill her? “It’s the height of summer; do you know how many traffic accidents happen on this road every year?”
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
My fingers tightened on the wheel. I needed to leave. Now. Before my brain fully short-circuited and the ridiculous plan that had been battering around my brain for the past hour spewed forth.
My mouth did the opposite. “Get in.”
“In your car?” Her eyes widened, like I’d just offered to show her my taxidermy collection.
“No, the boot. Of course the car, Lang.”
“Sarcasm. At least it’s an improvement on the surliness,” she said. “But no, I get travel-sick.”
“It’s a five-minute drive.”
“Even more reason for me to keep cycling. I’d hate to ruin your interiors.”
“Is that why you aren’t driving your tin can?”
“One, don’t insult Daisy.” The car had a name? “And two, not that it’s any of your business, but she’s still having a little engine trouble.”
“What kind of engine trouble?”
“The wait-until-payday kind.”
