A Sprint To His Heart by Lyla Bardan Read Free Book Online

tomorrow,” I said, feeling a touch pensive. I didn’t want to leave him.
    He traced his finger along the side of my face and down to my chin, then gave me another spine-tingling kiss. “Until tomorrow, sweet Bailey.”
    “Until tomorrow,” I whispered and reluctantly opened the door.
    My brain in a fog, I walked to my car behind the bike shop. Drawing in a giddy breath, I watched as Piran’s car pulled away from the curb and roared down the street.
    Touching my lips, I smiled. Damn, that boy could kiss.

Chapter 5
    Since Saturday’s race wasn’t until the afternoon, I planned on sleeping late, but Mom had other ideas. She knocked on my bedroom door until I couldn’t take it anymore. After dragging myself out of bed, I opened the door, fully prepared with the ‘I am an adult and can do what I want’ speech, but her stern expression stopped me short. Instead, I stood there silently as she droned on about shared responsibilities and how she and Dad had helped pay for my college and were allowing me to live back at home rent-free.
    Total guilt trip.
    And it worked. So even though I’d already paid the registration fee for the day’s race and desperately needed to prove to Coach my dedication, I stayed home and did chores—weeded Mom’s garden, cleaned the garage, and washed Dad’s car. Almost got trapped into helping Dad stain the deck, but thankfully, Mom said I could relax…by making dinner. Real funny.
    An entire race day in the tour lost, but that meant nothing to her. Yes, I understood my obligation to help around the house, but throwing this in my face during the biggest cycling series of the season was just cruel.
    Couldn’t she for once understand how much racing meant to me? This wasn’t just a ‘passing fancy’. Racing was my passion, my life.
    And I never should have shown her the DVD of greatest bike-racing crashes.
    Thankfully, on Sunday morning, not a word from Mom, and I convinced Kelsi to accompany me to Wisconsin for the third day of the Grand Prix racing tour.
    Driving down the highway, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d botched my last two races. Sure, shit happens. Even the best riders can have a bad day, but was I losing my game? My palms grew sweaty around the steering wheel. The pressure of doing well in this tour was getting to me. I glanced over at my sister sitting in the passenger seat. “Kelsi. Talk to me. I need to stop thinking about today’s race.”
    “Not now,” she replied without looking up from her e-reader. “I’m at a good part.”
    I scowled and switched on the car radio, muttering, “Damn you, Kelsi. All you do is read, read, read. How can you read at a time like this?”
    “Fine,” she said with a sigh. “What do you want me to say?”
    “I don’t know. Forget it.”
    “Stop being so nervous. It’s not like this is your first race.”
    “But this is the Grand Prix Tour. I have to do well today. I blew it in Friday’s race and thanks to Mom, I didn’t even get to ride yesterday. If I don’t get picked for the national development team this time . . .” I relaxed my death grip on the steering wheel until blood once again flowed through my fingers.
    Kelsi scoffed. “Come on, Bay. You won that race in Chicago. You know what to expect. Last year you came close to qualifying for nationals. I think you’ll make it this time. You’re strong and fast. But if you don’t, so what? It’s not the end of the world.”
    “So what?” I yelped. “I need a win here if I’m ever going to have a prayer of being picked up by a pro team.”
    She thumbed her e-reader, then set it down. “You take this cycling thing too seriously. You’ve practically given yourself an ulcer.”
    “You don’t understand. I don’t have artistic talent like you and Mom, and I wasn’t spectacular at traditional sports like Dad. Plus, my GPA isn’t exactly law school material. Bicycle racing happens to be something I’m good at.”
    “Come on,” she said in disbelief.