A High-End Finish(42)

My front tire wobbled over a patch of pebbles in the road and I had to strengthen my grip on the handlebars to keep control of the bike. I rounded another curve and now I could see the meadow a few hundred yards away. I steadied my nerves, knowing I would have to swerve quickly to angle the bike through one of the breaks in the row of barriers.

I counted the posts, held my breath, and veered sharply right. My thigh slammed against one of the steel barriers and I felt my jeans rip, but I didn’t care. I’d made it through the break and hit the open field with a jarring bump. The bike and I continued to bounce across the wet, uneven ground until my front wheel hit a gopher hole and abruptly ejected me.

As I flew through the air, my only thought was Don’t land on your head. Don’t land on your head. I was wearing a helmet, but that wouldn’t be enough to protect me at this velocity.

For a few seconds it felt like I was moving in slow motion. But then I hit the ground fast, breaking the fall with my hands and left shoulder. I tumbled another few yards in an awkward somersault before skidding for a few feet on my hands, arms and stomach and finally collapsing in the muddy grass, facedown.

I lay unmoving, my cheek pressed against the wet, grimy ground, for a few long, humiliating minutes.

I wanted to cry. The palms of my hands were already stinging and I knew they had to be scraped bloody. I could feel the cold grass against my knees, which meant that my jeans had ripped there, too. My chin had taken a hit, as well, because my jaw was stiff and my neck felt jarred.

But I could breathe, so chances were that I hadn’t broken any ribs or collapsed a lung. A small victory.

I heard car brakes squealing along the highway, but ignored them.

After a minute, I lifted my left shoulder an inch to test whether it was broken or not. I did the same with both arms and legs, and then arched my back slightly to make sure I hadn’t damaged anything else too badly.

Sudden footsteps pounded on the ground and a man yelled, “Are you all right?”

I was alive, so yeah, I was all right. I held up my hand as well as I could, given my awkward position, and waved to let him know I was conscious.

I hoped it was a friend or even a stranger, because then it wouldn’t matter that I wasn’t exactly looking my best. As long as it wasn’t someone horrible from town who would ridicule me and make sure everyone knew about this.

You’re an idiot, I thought, and shoved those concerns aside. Because who cared what I looked like? I was alive. Hallelujah.

Still, I had to look awful, what with my face caked in mud and stained with grass and dirt. But again, who cared? It wasn’t like I was trying to impress anybody with my grace.

It must’ve been quite a sight, though, to see me flying off my bike and landing in a heap. Pure elegance. Ugh.

I flinched when a warm hand touched my back. “Hey, are you okay? Can you move?”

“I’m fine.” I struggled to push myself off the ground and managed only to make an oof sound.

“Fine, huh? Hold on,” he said, pressing his hand down more firmly. “Don’t move yet. Can you tell if anything’s broken?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Let me check.” His hands moved gently up my back, along my spine, across one shoulder, then the other, and down my arms. He had a firm, expert touch, but still managed to be gentle, like he did this sort of thing every day. I’d never felt anything so wonderful in my life. Which was a little pathetic, but I wasn’t going to complain.

“Really, I’m okay,” I said.

“Yeah, I think you are,” he said. “You took quite a leap there. I passed you on the road, but then I caught a glimpse in my rearview mirror from the top of the hill. You really went flying.”

“And all in front of an audience.”

His chuckle was deep, sexy. He continued to rub my back lightly. “Can you turn over for me?”

For that amazing voice, anything, I thought dreamily, then wondered if maybe I’d hit my head after all.

He helped me roll over, his arm cradling my back to cushion me until I was settled on the ground. That’s when I got a close-up look at him for the first time. And almost groaned out loud.

It was MacKintyre Sullivan, world-famous author and newest resident of our little village. Oh, lucky me.

He was so much more handsome than his book covers portrayed him. Everything about him was more intense, more striking than those posed Photoshopped pictures could’ve ever revealed. His hair was darker, richer, short cropped, and utterly masculine. He always looked so dangerous and serious on his book covers, so when he flashed me an easy smile, it was startling. His teeth were white and straight and his soulful dark blue eyes actually twinkled. He had a shadow of a beard, which gave him a rugged, heroic look that made me want to crawl into his strong arms and stay for a long, cozy nap.

Good grief. Where were all these fanciful thoughts coming from? I had definitely hit my head on something.

He shifted his weight until he was sitting companionably on the ground next to me. Shoving up the sleeves of his faded forest green cable-knit sweater to reveal tanned, muscular arms, he gently brushed my cheek with his fingers to get rid of some attractive dirt clods or weeds that were still stuck to my skin.

“So, what happened here?” he asked.

“My brakes gave out.”

“You were going awfully fast.”

I sighed. “I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t stop.”