Page 67 of Mountain Impact

“I believed her,” Drake said, sounding half surprised. “What did you think?”

“I believed her as well―and I have quite a bit of experience of people trying to lie to me.”

He barked out a laugh. “I guess you do, Doc. I guess you do.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I wouldn’t want to see her go to prison.”

“She won’t, not if you and I testify on her behalf.”

Drake nodded. He now looked willing to entertain the possibility, which he hadn’t been before. Isolde breathed a sigh of relief. As long as they could be certain Amélie wouldn’t try to hurt anyone else, Isolde didn’t want the woman punished too harshly―not after everything she’d already been through.

Chapter 22

Isolde

Isolde watched Drake’s thick forearms flex as he tightened the straps around the two mountain bikes strapped to the back of his SUV. She could still see the crisp, reddish outline of the fourteen stitches he’d gotten on his arm. It was healing well, but he’d probably always bear the scars.

The black T-shirt he was wearing highlighted the strength of his arms and pectorals. Isolde felt her mouth water as she thought of the muscles under that T-shirt. She wondered if they had time to go back inside for a quickie, or even if they should skip the bike ride completely.

She quickly pulled herself together. She’d been working long hours over the last weeks, and Drake had been incredibly patient with her. The only thing he’d asked of her was that she save this day to go mountain biking with him. He’d planned the outing meticulously, even going so far as to borrow a bike from Tess, Damien’s wife, for Isolde to use. That was the smaller bike hanging from his car, which still looked huge to Isolde.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been mountain biking. You’re going to love it.”

“Uh huh,” Isolde said, noncommittally. She must have been twelve or thirteen years old the last time she’d been near a bike. She was willing to give it a fair shot, but wasn’t as convinced about it as he was.

His use of the word love made her realize she still hadn’t told him she loved him. But she did. She loved Drake. She loved him for his strength and his courage, for being willing to give them a second chance when she’d been too afraid. She might not have uttered the words yet, but she loved him enough to go out of her comfort zone, hence why she was standing outside her apartment at seven in the morning on a Saturday morning.

“Okay. We’re ready.” He smiled at her. “You look great.”

Isolde’s hand went self-consciously to her padded biking shorts, which made her ass look even larger than it already was.

Yeah, right.

Drake laughed. “You’ll be glad for the padding in a bit.”

“Take it easy on me, ok?” she asked, only half joking.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised. “Now come on, get in the car, I want to be there by eight.”

Three hours later, Isolde could confirm two things: that she was very glad for the padding on her shorts, and that the best thing about mountain biking was riding behind Drake and getting to stare at his butt in those tight shorts he was wearing.

The jury was still out about mountain biking, as far as she was concerned. So far, she didn’t know whether it was fun and exciting, or simply nerve-wracking and terrifying.

Drake turned his head to check on her. Although she couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, his expression was more carefree and relaxed than she’d ever seen it before. Suddenly she was incredibly glad she’d come up here with him.

“You’re doing great. Let’s get up to that ridge and we’ll stop for a picnic.”

Music to my ears.

At the top of the ridge, Isolde dropped off her bike. She held on to Drake, her legs unsteady as those of a newborn colt. Her arm and leg muscles burned, partly from the exercise, but partly from how tense she’d been holding herself the whole time.

She took the water bottle he offered and drank gratefully.

“So, how am I really doing?” she asked.

He pulled her into his arms. He smelled of clean, male sweat. “I already told you. You’re doing great. You haven’t even made the mistake most rookies make, of pulling too hard on the brakes.”

“How do you know?”

“You’ve yet to go over the bars,” he deadpanned. “Sit down with me, Isolde,” he said, bringing something large and colorful out of his backpack.