27 Ways to Mend His Broken Heart by Shari L. Tapscott

Author:Shari L. Tapscott [Tapscott, Shari L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-09-01T16:00:00+00:00

18

Well, it’s official. I spent fifteen hundred dollars on a bike I will never, ever use again.

Why do people do this for fun? It’s torture, plain and simple.

“How are you doing?” Kyle calls. He’s waiting for me at the top of a hill, taking a long drink from his water bottle.

It’s a warm day for mid-winter, and he’s stuffed his jacket in his pack. His burnt orange, long-sleeve tee is fitted but not tight, and it skims over the muscles I got a good eyeful of earlier. He looks healthy, strong.

And me? Not so much. I thought I was mostly in shape, but apparently, I have no muscle. Well, I must have some somewhere because they’re screaming at me now, asking me why I’d subject them to this cruel and unusual punishment.

I suck in a gasping breath when I reach the top and nearly topple from my bike when I lower my foot to the ground for balance. My water bottle sticks in its holder, and I almost give up on it.

“You’re doing good, Kaylee,” Kyle says, all optimistic like. I sort of want to punch him.

He’s safe because I can’t swing my arm.

“I hate you,” I say as I finally force my water bottle out of the holder. “So much.”

He laughs. “Seriously, though. It feels great, right?”

“Loathe you.”

“I’m not going to get rid of my Jeep or anything—let’s not be crazy. But, man, this is awesome.”

“I want to push you down this hill.”

“What do you think?” he goes on, completely ignoring me. “Should we add this to our hiking rotation? Maybe try to fit a bike ride in at least once a week?”

Sometimes, he’s like talking to a rock.

“Yeah,” I find myself saying because he’s Kyle, and I’ll do anything for him. “Okay.”

He grins. “Really?”

“If we must.”

At least it’s pretty out here. The air is crisp and fresh, and the canyon is so quiet. The sun is low in the sky, creating that golden hour before everything goes gray.

Kyle eyes me, looking like it’s just dawning on him that I’m close to death. “If you can make it back to the Jeep, I’ll break out that coffee.”

“What if I can’t make it to the Jeep?”

“Then I guess you’ll spend the night out here.”

“And they say chivalry is dead,” I answer, making him laugh.

By some miracle, I do manage to make it back, though my legs feel like gelatin when we get there.

I stagger off my bike, half dismounting, half falling with flair. Once I’m safely on the ground, I pull off my fingerless riding gloves and unbuckle my helmet. I’m sure my hair is flat and sweaty, but I don’t even care. I’m just glad we’re done.

The sun has slipped below the horizon, and I grow chilly as soon as we stop moving. I rub my arms to keep warm and open the back door, looking for my pullover. “Where’s this coffee you promised me?” I ask, but then I stop because I just now notice the small cooler Kyle tucked behind my seat.

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