Hearts Racing by Jim Hodgson Page B

that was on his mind was sleep anyway. After LeMond was gone, he climbed into bed, feeling as if every muscle on his whole body was sore, every joint full of sand. He was asleep in seconds.

Chapter 9
    It couldn’t have been worse, Faith reflected. Well, it could be worse. Barker could have had her brother executed. Or turned her parents out and made them live on the streets. She’d probably live a pretty nice life by a lot of people’s standards: going to cocktail parties, wearing dresses and the like. But that wasn’t the life she wanted for herself. She wanted to help people bring meaning to their lives through proper exercise, through CrossFit. She liked working for herself, running a business, and growing her client base. All gone now.
    Perhaps in a few years, when things settled down, she could convince Barker to let her open a small gym. But that was far down the road. For now she’d just have to keep her back straight and—ugh!—be a good wife to him.
    Barker had said they’d be married in six months. Six months. She didn’t even have anyone to talk to about it. She’d just have to keep her own counsel. She was a strong woman. She could do it. The saying was that no man was an island. No mention of women not being islands. She could—must—be an island now.
    She spoke to Jason on the phone about the gym closing. He would be fine, he said. His parents had work he could do without having to make cheese or wine. When she told him about her engagement he blurted, “But that guy’s an asshole!” and then quickly and profusely apologized.
    “No, no, it’s fine,” she said, and then since she couldn’t think of anything else to say about Barker that was nice, “I’m sure I’ll get to know him.”
    Talking to Jason was good, but that done, she was at loose ends again. She didn’t know what people did who didn’t work. Watch TV? She flipped it on. The newscaster was talking about more hostilities in Latin America. Apparently the Mexicans weren’t eager to be subjugated under the Bleu Blanc Rouge any more than their American cousins had been. They seemed to be putting up a better fight, to their credit, even if the newscaster framed it in such a way that it made them sound like they were in the wrong for resisting the French.
    After a minute or two, she couldn’t take the TV anymore. It was pointless to worry about things she couldn’t change, especially when they were so far away. She had problems of her own right here in New Lyon to worry about. But she couldn’t let herself be too negative. That wasn’t helpful either.
    She thumbed out a quick text to that Buck bicycle rider guy to say congratulations on his win. Maybe hearing from someone in good spirits would lift hers. She thought about how he’d looked on the bike, like a thoroughbred horse at full speed. It had been beautiful but so terribly masculine. Terribly? Yes, because it was exciting and also a bit scary. But that was exciting too. And her thoughts drifted to other things she’d seen as well. Hmm.
    Her phone buzzed, and her heart leapt. Buck getting back to her already? She looked. Nope. LeMond.
    “Can you meet?” it said. She typed back that yes, she could. At least it would give her something to do. He wanted to meet at a coffee shop on the west side of town. That was a bit peculiar, but she did have the time. She said she’d be there in an hour.
    When she got out of the shower, her phone showed she’d gotten another text. This one was from that Buck guy. He thanked her graciously for congratulating him and said he couldn’t have done it without her. That was nice. She should probably leave it there. Should definitely leave it there. Don’t make it personal. Definitely do not send anything even remotely personal to this man. 
    “What are you up to today?” she replied. Balls. That might have been crossing a line. They didn’t really have a personal relationship, did they? I mean, she’d seen some pretty personal parts of