A Sprint To His Heart (12 page)

Chapter 12

Mike, the manager of the bike shop, kept me busy, leaving me little time to dwell on Piran. A shipment of cycling shoes, helmets, and gloves had arrived, and I spent three hours sitting at a computer entering the inventory, and then another two hours re-arranging the stock room.

All without a shred of humor, since both Nick and Tyler had the day off.

My shift done, I signed out and walked to my car, debating whether to call Nick. I really wanted to tell him the news about Piran. On the other hand, I didn’t want to listen to Nick tell me a Fae prince would only date an ordinary human girl for sex.

A thought spun to the forefront of my mind, and I halted on the sidewalk, jiggling my keys in my hand. With Piran’s drool-worthy looks, he could attract a far more sexually experienced girl. But he picked
me
. I couldn’t help smiling. Take that, Nick.

I unlocked my car and settled in, then noticed a box wrapped in pale blue paper adorned with a dainty gold bow on the passenger seat. Blue and gold. Piran’s colors. My heart skipped a beat. How’d he get in my car? I glanced around quickly, even checking the floor of the backseat to make sure he wasn’t there, before tentatively picking up the box.

My palms suddenly hot, I set the gift down and rubbed my arms, the back of my neck prickling as if I was being watched, but I was alone in my car. Alone with a gift that weirded me out. I was never one to have an overactive imagination, but the box seemed to be calling to me, like some high-pitched frequency only dogs could hear.

Before I knew what diabolical force had come over me, I groped the box like a beast possessed and ripped off the pretty blue paper. I stared at the red letters appearing underneath.

Dashlane Carbon Air.

My jaw dropped. These were five hundred dollar shoes! I opened the box and lifted the cloth—not tissue paper—separating the gleaming white cycling shoes. In disbelief, I gently cradled a shoe, inhaling the fine European leather. God, they even smelled expensive. I stroked the red cleats on the stiff, black sole with trembling fingers.

My dream shoes ever since I’d seen them in a cycling catalog.
Oh Piran
. . . My heart soared. I removed the glittery gold bow from the wrapping paper and stuck it to my car’s dash. A forever reminder of his thoughtful present. Grinning, I hugged the shoes. Flowers or jewelry might sway other girls, but Piran knew the way to
this
girl’s heart.

No, wait. He was not getting off this easily. I carefully set the shoes back in their box and drove home.

The house empty, the lingering aroma of barbecued chicken wafted from the kitchen. I helped myself to leftovers from the fridge, and found the last basket of strawberries, cleverly hidden in the back of the fridge. Too bad, Kelsi.

Engrossed in reading the newspaper, the chime of my phone startled me and sent a strawberry halfway to my mouth to its demise on the floor. Another chime sounded, and I grabbed my phone. I read the two text messages from Shannon.

“You available? Call me!”

“I’m dying to train with you! You going on the Tuesday night ride?”

I called Shannon, and she answered right away. “Bailey! You riding tonight or what?”

Her wheels whirred in the background. I heard the click of a gear change as she adjusted her riding speed.

“I’m not cleared to ride outside yet. Sorry. Maybe next week?”

“Poop,” she said. “I need my training partner back!”

“Hey, how about we go for ice cream instead?”

“I wish,” she replied. “But I’m racing this weekend. The Holy Hill race. Can’t have any extra pounds. I have enough trouble climbing that hill, unlike
someone
I know.”

I laughed. “Holy Hill is an awesome course. Don’t worry. You’ll kill it, girl.”

Shannon snorted. “I’d feel a lot more confident if I had you there to draft behind.”

“Ha! I haven’t ridden in nearly two weeks. I’d be sucking
your
wheel dust.”

“Doubt it. Ooo, gotta go. We’re riding through Skokie. You know how the cops are here. If you change your mind, we should merge with the Evanston riders in about thirty minutes.”

“Yeah,” I said, a pang of longing in my chest. “Have a good ride.”

She ended the call, and the pang became an ache. I missed being on my bike. Not to mention I could literally feel my hard-earned muscles turning into gelatinous fat.

I stood and hovered near the shoebox resting on the kitchen countertop. It wouldn’t hurt to at least try them on. I removed the shoes from the box—wow, they weighed next to nothing—and popped open the buckles with a satisfying click. After slipping on the shoes, I adjusted the fit. Utter perfection. I twirled around in my kitchen, feeling like Cinderella in her glass slippers.

Except doubt crept all over my happy mood. A normal guy couldn’t afford a five-hundred-dollar apology gift. Was Prince Piran of Sava trying to buy my affections? Was this a sign of things to come? With a groan, I covered my face with my hands. I didn’t want a bunch of expensive gifts from my boyfriend. That just seemed so . . . possessive.

I shook my head, clearing the negative thoughts. It was only
one
gift, and it wasn’t as if he’d bought me a brand new car or anything.

And I did need to break them in.

I carried my bike into the basement and hoisted the frame onto my fancy kinetic bike trainer. Working at the bike shop did have its perks. Half-off wholesale price on returned merchandise. And there never seemed to be a shortage of hotshot weekend warriors thinking they’d cycle their way into shape only to give up a month later.

After turning on the television, I mounted my bike and warmed up for about ten minutes. Then I switched into high gear. Pedaling hard and fast, I barely noticed the show on the television as the desire to win flowed through my veins and energized my muscles.

My feet felt great. I couldn’t wait to race in these babies.

A half-hour later, sweat dripping down my back and my thighs screaming uncle, I backed off and spent the next half-hour pedaling at a maintenance pace.

Once finished with my workout, I showered and checked my phone for missed calls. Piran’s name blinked on the screen, stark and demanding. I took a deep breath and thumbed the Call button. I had no idea what to say to him or how I should talk to him. Things were different now. How could I possibly be myself around a royal prince?

He answered immediately, as if he’d been waiting with phone in hand. “Hello, sweet Bailey. May I see you tonight?”

Hearing the excitement in his voice, I didn’t have the heart to say no. “Sure.”

“I will pick you up in an hour.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

“Bailey?”

I’d almost disconnected the call. “Um, what?”

“You sound distant.”

I sighed. “I guess we need to talk, Piran.”

There was a pause before he asked, “About?”

“Us.” One word, but it held such meaning.

“I know,” he replied, no longer sounding upbeat. More resigned.

Maybe he thought we could just ignore what happened. Maybe he was right.

As promised, he arrived an hour later. His braid slightly mussed, a few strands of hair hung down the sides of his face. In a plain black T-shirt, faded jeans, and untied, gray Vans shoes, he sure didn’t look like a prince. He just looked like a normal guy . . . a totally
hot
guy.

Oh God. I clenched my knees together, resistance weakening.

We walked from my house toward the ice cream shop on Sherman Avenue. Although still humid, the evening air carried cooler breezes while the sun, big and orange, slipped lower in the sky. Piran clasped my hand in his, and my skin awoke at his touch, tingles running up and down my spine.

But neither of us said anything until we ordered our ice cream.

We sat down in a booth and Piran dipped his spoon into his vanilla raspberry sundae. “I do not want to lose you. I am most sorry I could not tell you about my parents.”

“Could not?” I asked. “Don’t you mean
would
not?”

“Yes,” he said, setting down his spoon. Lips compressed, he stared off in the distance.

An awkward silence passed.

I exhaled loudly, and he returned his focus to me. For the first time, I saw loneliness etched in his beautiful features. My shoulders curled over my chest. “I don’t know how to act around you anymore.”

“The same as you always did.”

I lifted my gaze. “If I don’t curtsy to you, will the Fae High Council arrest me?”

He frowned. “This is exactly why I did not tell you who I was.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be sarcastic.” Under the table, I punched a fist against my thigh. “It’s just that…” I stared at my melting dish of lemon custard. “Things are different now.”

He said nothing.

My phone chimed, and I pulled it from my pocket.

“Flatted!! Fell behind. Ice cream still available?”

Crap. Should I tell Shannon no? I texted back.
“Where are you? I’m at Stefani’s on Sherman Ave.”

“I’ll find it. Be there in ten.”

Piran tilted his head. “Flatted?”

I slurped a spoonful of my no longer solid ice cream. “Shannon was out riding her bike and got a flat tire.”

He nodded. “By the way, my mother thinks you are very pretty.”

I bit down hard on my spoon, not quite sure what to think about that.

“I do not think you are very pretty,” he continued.

My mouth fell open.

“I
know
you are very pretty.” Grinning, he dodged the slap to his shoulder. Instead, he captured my hand in his.

I smiled, caressing his long fingers. “Thank you so much for the cycling shoes.”

“Shoes?”

“Ha ha,” I teased. Granted, I hadn’t thought about my dream shoes in months. So how did he know I wanted them? He couldn’t have. But someone did.
Nick
. I gave Piran a sly smile. “You read Nick’s mind, didn’t you? Not sure how I feel about that, but—”

“No, Bailey.” The sharpness in his voice caught me off guard. He withdrew his hand from mine. “I did not buy you the shoes.”

“Then who did?” I asked, taken aback by his less-than-noble behavior.

His mouth twitched. “Perhaps another of your admirers?”

I threw down my spoon. “Seriously?”

He stabbed the remains of his sundae. “I told you how Nick feels about you.”

“Nick can’t afford five hundred dollar shoes,” I snapped.

“Then Jose perhaps.” Piran crossed his arms. “Someone bought you a very expensive present. Someone who knows you quite well.” His eyebrow arched. “Someone who is not me.”

Shaking my head, I pinched my lips together.

“Uh, not a good time?” Shannon said over my shoulder.

Piran’s gaze lifted. Then he stood and inclined his head to her. “No, your timing is perfect. You may have my seat. I was just leaving.”

I stared at him in disbelief as he walked out.

Shannon offered me a sad smile as she sat down. “Sorry if I interrupted.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” I replied, rubbing my temple. What the hell just happened here?

A waitress took Shannon’s order, giving my teammate the skunk eye for wearing cycling shorts and a jersey. Shannon returned the favor with a smug grin and propped her stocking feet up on another chair. She tossed her cleated shoes under the table.

“So what gives with you two? I thought you were tight.”

I sucked in my cheeks. “Well, Piran’s not exactly who I thought he was.”

Shannon raised her eyebrows.

“Turns out that . . .” I tugged on my lower lip. “Piran is . . .”

I gritted my teeth. This wasn’t my secret to tell. He had gone through a lot of effort to hide his origins.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “He’s gay?”

I stared at her. “What? Um, no.” Dropping my gaze, I shrugged, squirming in my seat. “You know guys. They act one way around you and another way around their family.”

“Don’t I know it. You would not
believe
what a mama’s boy Jose is.”

“Really?” I wrinkled my nose, unable to picture tough-guy Jose as a mama’s boy.

Shannon swirled caramel over her spoon, emitting a quiet sigh.

Did she still like him? Damn. And here I’d thought their break-up was just because of his cheating. Maybe Mama Arcañes was more of a hard-ass than her son.

Shannon brushed a strand of reddish hair from her eyes. “Speaking of Jose. Did you hear? The United States Anti-Doping Agency has banned him from racing for five years.”

“Five years?” I gulped. “I didn’t think they could ban someone for that long. That will ruin his racing career.”

Her mouth twisted. “Guess he should have thought of that before he got in the doping business. And Coach says Mia is banned for a year, plus she lost her contract with Team Ibsy.”

Now that I couldn’t help smiling about. “We won’t have to deal with Mia for the rest of the season?”

Shannon pumped her fist, and I laughed. She tossed her empty sundae cup in the trash, then turned and studied me with narrowed eyes.

“What?” I asked, suddenly wary. I’d already told her I had nothing to do with Jose’s blood doping.

“So what is this about an expensive present?”

I let out my breath. “Yeah. Someone gave me a pair of Dashlane Carbon Air cycling shoes. Left the wrapped present in my car. No card, no note.”

My friend’s jaw dropped. “No way.”