Page 31 of Faking the Shot

The apartment’s doorman was a huge hockey fan and happy to keep their secret, especially when offered a couple of tickets to a game. Zac’s generosity, unnecessary as it was, because Michael was trustworthy as all get-out, had been another nice indication about the man. His request for Michael to call him “Zac” showed his humility. A good man.

She drew down her helmet, propped on her sunglasses—the temperature might be cold, but there was still some glare in the sunny conditions—and after a few wobbles found her biking legs again.

Oh, she loved this. She didn’t go biking nearly as often as she liked. That’s what happened when people recognized her, but also what she was kind of counting on today.

She hadn’t ridden along the Seawall for years, even though it was the city’s most popular cycling path. Six miles of Seawall, it was a beautiful path to ride, almost completely flat, and usually packed with tourists and casual riders. But even though it was a sunny day, the fact it was November, and noon on a weekday, and pretty chilly at only nine Celsius, meant that less tourists would be around so she figured it was a good chance to ride the Seawall and be seen, but not betooseen. It would provide an opportunity for exercise for both of them, because she didn’t want him to feel like he had to change his plans too much, and given the upcoming months would involve lots of rain, as winter always did, the chance to get vitamin D and get out into the fresh air was helpful.

She crossed the last street, and soon found him waiting just above the Nature House, overlooking Lost Lagoon. Well, not waiting like she’d expected. The man was stretching, and it was obvious he was an athlete, as those muscles showed he was very fit indeed. She swallowed. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be recognized, and they’d be busted before they began.

“Ready?” she called. She didn’t want to linger. She was already feeling cool, and had to keep going.

“I’ll catch up.”

“Okay.” That would probably look better anyway.

She cycled through the tunnel under the road heading north out of Vancouver, and pumped the pedals as she turned left to join the path along the Seawall. Cyclists shared this with runners, and the beautiful day meant that there were a few out. Which was good. Someone might recognize them and take their picture, then they could play the game of confirm or deny.

The path led past the Rowing Club, a beautiful brown and white timber building, that possessed an awesome view of the city skyline. Hundreds of boats were moored in this section of Coal Harbour, and on a day like today it was just beautiful. She was so lucky to live here.

“Hey.”

“Oh!” She startled, her bike wobbling, then she corrected. “You found me.”

“Wasn’t hard.” He smiled. “I just had to look for the prettiest bike rider on the path.”

Hmm. Sometimes when he said stuff like that, she wasn’t sure he was taking this friends thing seriously enough. Which meant she would have to work harder to remind him that this was platonic. Unless he was just entering the spirit of their relationship a little more fervently than she’d expected.

“It sure is a beautiful city,” he said, gesturing to the skyline.

She smiled at him. “That’s what I was just thinking.”

The blue skies and buildings were reflected in near-still blue water, the trees holding Fall color adding pops of red and orange to the varying greens. In the distance, the hills and mountains rose majestically. Already, she could see a few topped with snow. But for now, apart from the cold temperatures, and the beanie-wearing walkers, they could almost be in summer.

They passed the Royal Vancouver Yacht Club, and she wondered if he’d ever sailed.

“Do you sail?”

He glanced at her. The path wasn’t quite wide enough to ride two abreast, but in this section, with so few other path users around, they could. “I’m more of a skater than a sailor.”

Even though he had muscles to rival Popeye.

“You?”

“I once acted in a movie set on a yacht, and discovered I am not really a fan of smaller boats.”

Container ships moored in the harbour, waiting to take their goods to faraway lands. Vancouver had long been considered the gateway to Canada’s west, with so many of its natural resources shipped to the rest of the world. And with its location on the Pacific Rim, there was a reason the city’s Chinatown was Canada’s largest.

They passed the military base, and she quickly detoured to take photos of the totem poles, just like any other tourist, then rejoined the path that led around to the lighthouse at Brockton Point. By the time they reached the Girl in Wetsuit statue she was needing a drink, so she paused at the nearby SS Empress of Japan Figurehead replica.

Zac pulled up beside her, drew out his own water bottle. “Doing okay?”

“Yes.” She slurped down her water. “I don’t think we could have a better day.”

“Maybe if it was slightly warmer.”

She eyed his bare legs. “Says the man wearing shorts.”

“I’m used to ice, so this is warmer than my usual.” He eyed her legs, clad in black leggings and Converse high tops, but said nothing.

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