Page 24 of Revved up & Ready

“There’s no racing version of break a leg?” I ask.

“Not officially, but a lot of people will say ‘rubber side down’,‘stay on the bike’, or‘head down, butt

up.’”

“Head down, butt up? What does that have to do with racing?” I ask.

“If you’re doing it right, your ass almost never touches the seat during a race,” he says, sliding his hands into his jacket pockets.

My brows lift in surprise. “Must take a lot of strength.”

“It does,” he says, voice dripping with amusement. “Part of the professional athlete thing.”

Professional athlete.I’ve never thought of him that way, but I guess it’s true. I know motorcycles are heavier than they look, and he has to lean his all over the track. Maybe all the tight, sinewy muscle I saw on his torso this morning wasn’t just for show.I wonder what the muscles on his legs look like.

A mischievous smile turns his lips. “My personal favorite isride it like you stole it.”

“Huh?” I ask, blushing like he’s heard my thoughts.

“Things to say to me before a race,” he reminds me. “My favorite isride it like you stole it.”

I giggle.There is no way I’m saying that to him.“Okay, Cam.” I lift my hand toward the garage. “Have fun. Stay on the bike.”

“Thanks, love,” he says, reopening and walking out the door.

Still, all I can think is—Don’t crash. Don’t crash. Don’t crash.

Chapter 5

Cam

The cutest –caption from Cam’s social media post–a picture of Sadie sipping coffee in their backyard,March 1st

“How’d you do?” Luke’s voice comes through my phone.

Shutting the door to my hotel room, I answer, “Sixth.”

“Sixth? That’s—” He stops himself. “What happened?”

We both know that’s the worst qualifying placement I’ve had in twice as many races.

Qualifying is crucial. Each rider gets a set number of laps alone on the track the day before the race. Then, our best lap time is ranked against the other riders to determine our starting position for the actual race.

Sixth isn’t terrible, but it’ll make it tough to get podium—top three—and it’s not a great start for my first race on superbikes.

Rebuilding my reputation is important, but none of that matters if I don’t dominate this season.

I blow out a breath and explain to my best friend that I had a couple of decent laps but blew a tire on the last one.

“Shit,” he says.

“Yeah, shit,” I agree. Kicking off my shoes, I fall backward onto the bed.

“Ludlow?” he asks.

“First,” I answer. Ryan Ludlow grew up on the track with Luke and me, but when Luke stopped to start spinning wrenches, Ryan and I stuck with it. He moved up to superbikes a year before I had planned to, and he won the championship the last two years.

Luke doesn’t comment on Ludlow, just asks, “Hart?”

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