Free Hearts Racing by Jim Hodgson Page B

His tone rose a bit to indicate he was following Jose’s logic.
    Jose gestured with one hand heavenward. “The Tour?” he said, and then gestured to the bottle. “ Añejo .”
    The twins looked at each other. Everyone knew it was coming, so a few of the other rides joined them. “ Añejo !” they cried. Everyone laughed.
    Faith didn’t know much about the Tour de France except that the French were all wild about it like it was the CrossFit Games, the Olympics, and Christmas Day all put together. But she liked to think she knew a good time when she was having one, and she was having one. The pressures of the past few weeks were behind her, in New Lyon. Here there were only smiles, happy faces, and a sun setting through these gorgeous trees.
    “I’ll have some,” she said, surprising herself.
    Jose beamed. “Yes!” he said, pouring a shot. He slid it across the table to her, and she took it carefully. He’d filled it to the brim.
    Everyone was looking at Buck now. “Aw, what the hell,” he said, a grin wedging itself sideways onto his face. “Pour me one too.”
    The Miami riders all cheered like they’d just won a race, and everyone drank their shots down together. Faith drank hers in one gulp in case the taste was terrible. She didn’t want to embarrass herself by spewing it everywhere if it was revolting. She didn’t have a lot of experience with tequila, but she’d heard it could be harsh. She expected to screw her face into a scowl and endure the aftertaste, but . . . it was so good! Sure, it had a kick, but she could feel the warmth spreading in her chest. The lingering taste in her mouth was like butter mixed with electricity and some kind of other crazy ingredients she couldn’t even imagine.
    She looked at Buck. He was smiling too. He held his shot glass out and looked at it as though it’d just said something unexpectedly poignant.
    “Hoo,” he breathed. “That was good.”
    “ Uno mas ?” Jose asked, his smile rakish.
    “ Uno maaaasss ,” Hector said in a low voice, pounding the table with his fists excitedly.
    “Sorry?” Faith asked.
    “Another?” Jose said. 
    Faith was uncertain. She’d allowed herself one, but two was another matter. And by the way her chest was warming, that stuff was high-powered. You wouldn’t want to use it to try to put out a fire. In fact, she’d be careful not to breathe near any open flame for the next couple of hours.
    “Hell yeah!” Buck said. Murmurs of approval echoed around the table.
    Well. Faith refused to be the not-fun-Nancy/only-girl of the bunch, so she nodded.
    The second shot went down even better than the first. Faith was ready to savor the warmth and the taste this time, and to feel the glow spread. But good sense prevailed, and she said no to a third. If she had a third, she’d pretty much be drunk, and that was unprofessional. She didn’t want to be a stick-in-the-spokes, but she was also here in a professional context. It would be bad form.
    Buck laughed about something one of the riders had done. They were making each other laugh with their animated Spanish, but most of it came through thanks to wild gesticulations and the odd English word. Buck’s laugh sounded like a saxophone, or a bassoon. It was so sonorous and musical. Faith smiled just listening to it, and those eyes of his that ought to be banned for being too green flashed. Under the table, his legs moved as he laughed, and his knee came to rest against her leg. She didn’t move hers.
    She was smiling for no reason whatsoever. Who smiles for no reason at all? Happy people, she guessed. Buffoons, maybe. Idiots? She didn’t care.
    She waited for a lull, choosing her moment, and then said clearly as she held her glass aloft, “Uno mas!”
    The Miami riders all screamed with surprise, laughter, and approval, and Jose filled her glass once again. She drank it down in a smooth motion and yelled along. Buck’s bassoon laugh sounded again, tolling across the table and out