Page 170 of Bend

Work.

I can do work.

The sponsor bikes don’t feel foreign anymore. I know which one runs hot, which gets twitchy under hard braking, which rear starts moving around on corner exit, and exactly how far I can push Thorne’s setup before he starts acting like I’ve personally sabotaged his career.

More importantly, I’m starting to understand what each bike wants from me.

Not as instinctively as the ones back home yet, but enough that I’m not second-guessing every adjustment or checking the same thing four times before I trust myself. I know what the guys mean now, even when half of them are absolutely shit at explaining it, and the feedback has gotten smaller with every session.

Yesterday there was still a lot of maybe this and something feels off there.

Today, we’re down to fine-tuning. Half a click here, a little more support there, just enough resistance taken out to give them what they need without chasing problems that aren’t there anymore. We’re not fixing things now, we’re dialing them in, which means we’re close.

Actually fucking close.

I’m leaning over Wolfe’s setup sheet, comparing the notes from his last run against the changes I made yesterday, when he drops onto the stool beside me and starts peeling his gloves off one finger at a time.

“Well?”

Wolfe leans back on the stool, pulling one glove free with his teeth before dropping it into his lap. “Almost perfect.”

I immediately look up. “Almost?”

His mouth curves. “Knew that’d get your attention.”

“Don’t be annoying. What is it?”

He takes a drink of water, still looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Front’s good under braking, but I’m still getting a little more resistance than I want when I transition through the faster stuff. Nothing bad. Just feels like I’m working it harder than I should.”

I glance down at yesterday’s notes and run my finger over the last adjustment we made. “Same place as before?”

“Less than before.”

“So we fixed most of it.”

“You fixed most of it.”

I look back over the notes, then point to the line with my pen. “I can take one more click out. It should free the front up through the faster transitions without messing with the support you’ve got under braking.”

Wolfe watches me for a second, then nods. “Do it.”

“That’s it?”

“You know what you’re doing.”

Something warm pulls low in my chest at how easily he says it.

I set the sheet aside and move to the bike, crouching beside the front end while Wolfe stays where he is, close enough that I can feel him watching without needing to look. I make the adjustment carefully, one click and nothing more, then run my hand over the area out of habit before standing again.

“There. That’s all I’m touching.”

“Happy?”

“I’ll be happy when you come back and tell me it did what I wanted.”

His hand catches lightly at my waist when I step closer, and before I can say anything else, he leans in and kisses me.

It’s quick at first, soft and familiar, but I smile against his mouth and that’s apparently enough encouragement for him to kiss me again, slower this time.