Page 35 of Heart of the Race

SEVEN

My house was cozy and I loved it: the warmth in the soft browns and creams, uncluttered but not sparse. I could tell he liked it when he closed the door behind him and inhaled deeply.

“Feels like home in here.”

He could have said nothing better. “Lemme show you⁠—”

“Where’s your room?”

I walked him from the living room, which was the center of the house, past the guest bathroom, by the guest bedroom, and five steps down what was not even a hallway. I pointed out my office and finally got to my bedroom with the tiny bathroom attached.

“So where is your job?”

He put his duffel and garment bag on the overstuffed wingback chair next to the window. I sat in it sometimes and watched the rain.

“It’ll be all over the world. I’ll travel a lot. Lots of courses, lots of conditions, but all of them closed. I’d be the only guy on whatever road I was on. They’d make certain.”

“And this builder is going to make a bike to rival Honda and Yamaha, Ducati or Kawasaki? That’s their plan?”

“Yeah.”

“Where is the company based out of?”

“Spain.”

I nodded. “I see.”

“Corsica Elemental.”

“Okay.”

“They named the bike the Arrow.”

“So the Arrow by Corsica Elemental.” I considered the sound of the name. “I like it.”

“Me too.” He took a step forward. “It was like the answer to everything. Who knew one good thing would so quickly lead to another? Everything’s falling into place.”

“Why do they need you to run the TT?”

“Just to make sure I’m the guy they want.”

“Fearless.”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll have the ability to what, invest?”

“Take payment in stock options, yeah.”

“If the company goes public, that could be a lot of money.”

“And money’s good and helpful and you need it to retire on, but—” He moved again, closing the distance between us. “I’m thirty-one, you’re thirty-two. We have time to figure that out too.”

“Jesus, Varro,” I said after a moment, when I realized he was staring into my eyes.

“Jesus, Varro, what?” he asked, taking the final step, reaching me, lifting his hands to my face and tilting it back so there was no looking away.

“You were running away from me.”