A Touch of Frost by Rhian Cahill

A Touch of Frost by Rhian Cahill

Author:Rhian Cahill
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781925375527
Publisher: Rhian Cahill


CHAPTER 8

Jack

I carry two mugs of steaming coffee to the living room and place them on the upside down suitcase that serves as my coffee table. Elle hasn’t returned from the bathroom so I take a seat, grab the remote, and flick through the channels while I wait.

I stop on a sports network that happens to be playing a motorcycle race. It isn’t until I hear the commentator mention Roland that he realize it’s the class Elle’s brother rides in.

“Hey, Elle,” I call over my shoulder. “Your brother’s on TV.”

She doesn’t answer, but the race is so engrossing I sit on the edge of my seat. The bikes speed past the cameras, dipping low into the corners, jostling for position, and spinning-off into the sand as they fight for the lead.

I cringe when a rider takes a header over his bike, turning cartwheels in the air before landing with a thud, the bike barely missing him as it performs its own gymnastics routine and crashes into a wall. Both had to be traveling close to three hundred kilometers an hour.

“Shit. That’s gotta hurt.”

“What?” Elle asks behind me.

“Wait. They’re bound to replay it.” I use the remote to point at the screen.

Elle watches for a few seconds. “This is a rerun of last month’s race.”

“Did he win?” I ask.

“Ricky?” She nods. “Yeah. But it was close. Only a bike-length in it.”

“Where is he in the standings?”

“He finished the season on top.” Elle drops down beside me. “He’s determined to outdo dad.”

“Tall order.” I can’t think of a harder task the guy could set himself.

“The competitive gene lives on.” She reaches toward the mugs. “Which one?”

“Left. Do you think he stands a chance?” I ask as I lean over to grab my own coffee.

Elle takes a sip before answering. “Everyone’s got a shot, but I think Ricky has a better than most chance. He’d got Dad’s DNA for a start and the best damn coach in the world.” She grins, her lips at the rim of her mug.

“Your dad’s helping him win?” I figure a good parent encourages their children to succeed, but would someone as celebrated as Mark Roland want anyone, even if the guy is his own kid, beating his records?

“Ha! Dad wants the Roland name stamped so firmly on the record books that no other name appears.” Grinning, she shakes her head. “He’ll probably get his wish too.”

“Yeah?” I like the way she smiles when she talks about her family. Her eyes lit up and love seems to pour off her like a tangible thing. Like you can reach out and touch it—grab it in your hands.

“Yep. But I don’t want to talk about racing anymore. Switch it over to something else.” She waves a hand at the TV.

I do as told and we are soon watching, of all things, When Harry Met Sally. We’ve come in partway through and within minutes the famous ‘faking it’ scene is rolling across the screen.

Neither of us speak while Meg Ryan ‘gets off’ and Billy Crystal watches.



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