Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 111278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Now, she was just going to ride like the wind. She’d ride for an hour or two, to begin with. She didn’t want to overdo it.
All she had to do was get on the bike. And not fall off.
“How long since you rode a bike?” the guy asked.
“A while. But you never forget.” She shot him a cheery smile and grabbed her bike, wheeling it out to the parking lot. Perhaps it might be best to find somewhere a bit more secluded to ride. A nice country road would be good, right?
If she could just figure out how to get the bike into her car. Finally, after putting her backseat down, she managed to get it in sideways.
Only issue was that the trunk wouldn’t shut.
“Stupid thing,” she muttered. She walked back into the bike shop. “Hey, do you sell rope?”
“Uh, we have some bungee cord,” the guy replied, looking nervous.
She didn’t know why. “That would work. Relax, I’m not planning anyone’s demise with the rope or anything.”
“Uh, I wasn’t thinking that. Before.” He nervously pushed his glasses up his nose.
Honestly, some people had no sense of humor.
“You’re not trying to tie your bike to your car, are you?” he asked.
“Of course not. What kind of an idiot do you take me for? I’m just going to secure the trunk so the bike doesn’t fall out.”
“I’m not sure that’s any better,” he muttered.
She didn’t know why he was worried. She had this under control. Walking back out with the rope, she secured the trunk, proud of herself.
Easy. This was going to be so much fun.
It was hell.
She groaned as she pulled herself off the ground. This was the third time she’d fallen off the bike.
Apparently, everyone had lied. It was all a giant conspiracy. A person does not inherently remember how to ride a bike.
Or maybe it’s just me.
Her stomach was growling with hunger pains. Her new sneakers were rubbing her feet in all the wrong places. And, oh God, the chafing.
Why had no one mentioned the chafing? She was sweaty and itchy, and her butt hurt.
Bike seats were seriously uncomfortable. Why didn’t they make them all plush and soft? And there had to be something defective about this bike. Or why else did she keep falling off the damn thing?
Still . . . she guessed she was making progress. Her car was, well, a good mile back.
“Damn, only a mile? How long have I been biking for? Fifteen minutes!” She let out a scream of frustration.
This was terrible.
With a sigh, she turned her bike back toward her car. There was no way she was going any further today. But she refused to let this break her.
She could do this.
Climbing back on, she set off again. Okay, maybe she had this now.
Sure, her lungs were burning for air, and her butt had gone numb—which was kind of a blessing—but she was moving. And she wasn’t wobbling.
At least, she wasn’t until a truck appeared on the horizon.
Just stick to the side of the road.
But as the truck grew closer, panic filled her, and she ended up heading into the middle of the road.
She screamed as she fell over. Her entire body groaned in misery. Great. Now she had bruises to add to the chafing.
Perfect.
Oh my God! It was going to run her over. She was going to die. All she could do was scrunch her eyes shut.
But when nothing happened, she opened her eyes, sucking in a breath.
Okay. Not dead. That was good, right?
There was the sound of a truck door closing and heavy footsteps growing closer.
Uh-oh.
“Are you dead?” a rough voice asked. It sounded like it was slightly broken. Or maybe just rusty from disuse?
She stared up into the glaring sunlight at the huge man looming over her. He was wearing a faded red and black flannel shirt and had a long brown beard.
He crossed his arms over his chest, giving her an impatient look. “Well?”
“My eyes are open, so no.”
“Dead people’s eyes are usually open.”
“Ew. Gross. I’m talking to you, so I’m not dead,” she grumbled, trying to push herself up so she was sitting. The world spun and she took a long, slow breath.
You’re fine.
Just bruised and embarrassed.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“Pretty sure I’m one giant bruise. Are you going to offer to help me up?”
“No.”
Wow. Blunt. And rude.
She kind of admired that. Shit. What was wrong with her? She managed to get herself onto her feet and stared at the big mountain man. That’s what he looked like. Even his truck was huge and kind of rustic looking.
“Looked your full, girl?”
“Wow. Are you always this grumpy?”
“Only when a foolish girl falls off their bike in front of me. Got somewhere to be. You okay, or you going to faint?”
“I’ll be fine.” She picked her bike up, wincing at the scrapes on it. “Shit. I don’t think I’m going to take up bike riding as exercise.”