Hearts Racing Read Online Free Page B

looked good. If he failed today, it wouldn’t be because of his bike.
    He straightened and smiled. “Seems to be. Thank the techs for me, will you?” Then he turned and pushed his bike out of the shop and into the chilly sunshine, which shone on his bike and played across his hair in a champagne sparkle.

Chapter 5
    Faith had the collapsible massage table set up when LeMond walked in. “Hey,” she said, smiling. “Sounds like your boy had a bit of trouble with the ol’ baseline, huh?”
    LeMond nodded. “DOMS. Happens to the best of us. But this is kind of serious, so . . .” He trailed off and gave a little shrug.
    “What’s so serious? He’s got a training race today, so what?”
    LeMond gave a wheezy laugh. “Just between you and me, I think someone is trying to sabotage our chances against New Orleans.”
    “Really? Why? I mean, it’s just bike racing?”
    LeMond looked at her with a serious expression. “Just bike racing? No. To a man like Buck, this is everything. He blames the French for the way his father died. He wants to beat them at their own game.”
    Faith thought about her own family. She could understand that. Everyone’s lives had been wrecked by the French. Those cheese gobbling bastards.
    She and LeMond shared a quiet moment waiting for Buck to arrive. Faith knew she shouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t help it.
    “How did he die? Buck’s Dad.” It was one of the first times she’d used Buck’s name, heard herself saying it. It sounded good. Buck.
    “He was killed at a dairy, racking comté wheels on a low shelf, and the shelves had a manufacturing defect. Those dairies were thrown up so fast to meet the cheese demand, you know, and the rack just . . .” LeMond made a tipping motion with his hands. “Went over on him.”
    Faith’s hand flew to cover her mouth. “Oh my god!” She felt ashamed for feeling smug about Buck’s DOMS now.
    LeMond nodded. “Buck’s afraid he’ll end up at one of the dairies himself if he can’t make it as a cyclist. If he doesn’t win against New Orleans, he can’t get to Regional, can’t go to Nationals.” LeMond made a hand motion again, this time to signify “and on and on.” “Plus, he wants to beat the French at their own game.”
    Faith nodded. “That I can understand. Don’t worry. We’ll get him fixed up. Ah, here he is.”
    She could see him roll up outside the big front window. He grimaced at the movement of his dismount then held the door open and brought his bike inside. He propped it against a wall, dropped his gear bag, then stood looking at her and LeMond.
    “All right,” he said. “Let’s work miracles.”
    LeMond and Faith got him on the massage table and worked his muscles over. Most people grunted or groaned with the pressure of being given this kind of massage, but Buck just closed his eyes and took it. His mouth was a determined line, changing only when he drank more water to keep himself as hydrated as possible.
    Faith had never felt muscles like Buck’s, but she’d never massaged an endurance athlete before. He felt supple, powerful like a horse, but also sleek like a greyhound. He was built, not for doing burpees or pullups, but for speed. A bundle of power—power of a kind that she didn’t even know existed—rested just under his skin, ready to erupt.
    When they were done, LeMond looked at his watch. “Okay, I think we’ve done what we can do here.” Buck and Faith both nodded. “I gotta get down to the start. Buck, you have a few minutes before you need to head over for warmup.”
    “Might want to roll out a bit,” Faith said.
    Buck stood, shaking his legs out. “They feel a lot better. Still horrible, but a lot better.”
    Faith got out one of her foam rollers, basically a half-meter long foam cylinder. She chose one of medium density, and Buck lay on the floor to roll his muscles back and forth over it. LeMond gave him a pat on the good shoulder and headed out.
    Faith wiped down the massage table