“The quad’s fine. You ejected and it didn’t turn over. We can keep riding if you want.”
Blaze swiveled his gaze to Colette’s face. She looked worried. Upset. Her forehead was creased into a nasty frown and her eyes were luminous and swimming with tears. Her nostrils flared with each rapid breath she took. It was funny, looking at her with her helmet on. All he could see was her nose, eyes and lips, but that was enough.
“You up for more riding, Colette?” he asked as he started to pick himself off the ground, one bone at a time.
He felt fine, other than the bleeding gashes all over his arms, packed with rocks and grit. At least he hadn’t landed on one of the giant cactuses edging the trail. Life hadn’t exactly taught him to look for the silver lining in shit, but this was one of those times…
“Oh my god! Your arms!” Colette gasped. She forgot all about hating him and edged forward. Her cool palms landed on his upper arm, right below a particularly nasty gash. “Oh god. Oh shit. I- ugh. I’m not good with blood.” Colette’s chest heaved double time and as much as he liked her hands on his arms, he didn’t want her to pass out again or worse, puke all over him. And probably herself, with that helmet on.
“I’m good,” he assured her. “If you want to keep riding, we can keep riding. If not- maybe John here has a first aid kit. I can get this washed up, stick a few bandages on it and I’ll be fine. Then we can see about finding that tea room.”
John cleared his throat, his version of not laughing in Blaze’s face. Yeah, he’d pretty much handed over his man-card big time by spilling off his bike and talking about tea, but hell, seeing the slow smile blossoming over Colette’s sweet bow lips was worth it a thousand times over.
“You can’t ride like that! You’re bleeding all over! You need more than just a first aid kit. Those cuts should be disinfected and- and- I don’t know- stitched up?”
“Don’t need stitches, but I can patch you up. Lucky for you, I spent a lot of time overseas. That kind of thing makes you tough.” John spat again. He left it at that, purposely, or not so purposely, vague.
Blaze stared at Colette. She stared back.
“You okay with going back?” he finally asked. “Sorry. This wasn’t much of a date. We were just starting out. You didn’t even get to see the river at the end.”
“I don’t care,” she offered quickly, but not too quickly. She sounded like she meant it. “That looks like it hurts. I wouldn’t want to ride like that, no matter what’s at the end of the trail. We should go get it cleaned up before you get some weird infection and your arms drop off.”
“Would you still find me attractive?” he deadpanned and shot her a wicked grin. Being that it was smothered by his helmet, he doubted she got the full effect.
She rolled her eyes and sighed. Okay, so maybe she did.
“I don’t find you attractive now,” she ground out. “I doubt that armless would be much of an improvement. If you’d happen to fall on your face and your tongue gets ripped out, maybe I’d find you palatable then.”
“I thought you liked my tongue,” he shot back.
He forced himself off the ground and brushed dust off his jeans, wincing as the movement stung the gaping cuts on his arms. That fall was going to leave one hell of a bruise. He could practically feel the yellows and greens, blues and blacks forming all down his side, over his hips, and up his back. He’d have to check his chest for road rash but his arm seemed to have taken the worst of it. His jeans, worn as they were, prevented the skin on his legs from suffering the same ill fate as his arms.
Fucking t-shirts.
He shouldn’t have wanted to show off for Colette. If he’d used common sense and put on a jacket, maybe he’d have some of his dermis left.
John stalked off, not waiting to hear any more of the tongue comments between them. Colette stalked after their instructor, but not before she flipped him the bird.
So much for getting some TLC from the woman who was going to be his. And not just in the bent over his desk or one-night stand kind of way.
Maybe he had hit his head. Blaze took a tentative step, which was hard to do, given that the wind felt like it had been punched out of his lungs for the second time in less than ten minutes. He watched Colette’s hips as she walked away. Watched her mount up effortlessly and sit down on her quad, proud and straight. She started it and steered it around like a pro.