Page 59 of Lemon Crush

Her shoulders drooped slightly and she spoke to her lunch instead of me. “Here we go.”

Dalton chose that moment to poke his head in the door. “I’m back, boss.”

“Thanks. We’ll be in here for a bit, if you wouldn’t mind closing the door.”

“Not a problem.”

As soon as the latch clicked, I said, “Hear me out, August. If you want me to have an open mind, you need one too.”

She sighed, finally raising her eyes to mine. “That sounds fair.”

“Good. That means you’ll listen when I say I’d like to make sure the woman who hasn’t driven farther than the corner store or her doctor’s office in the last year knows what she’s doing behind the wheel. Especiallythatwheel. Jiminy isn’t like your automatic.”

When she glared at me, I wasn’t upset about it. I didn’t want her defeated. I wanted her determined to prove me wrong.

“I’ve driven on California freeways and Texas highways most of my adult life,” she declared. “Inthatcar, I’ve driven through mountain ranges in rainstorms and to the end of the Florida Keys and back. Long-distance driving is a Retta family requirement. I might be rusty, but a few hours for one race should be a piece of cake.”

“It won’t be, but experience helps, so I’m glad you have it. Do you know why it’s called 24 Hours of Lemons?”

“Because a few guys decided to make a parody of a prestigious professional endurance race in France called 24 Hours of Le Mans,” she said immediately.

“Did Wikipedia tell you that?”

“Maybe.” She was swiveling in her seat restlessly and picking scraps off her half-eaten chicken breast with her fingers.

“Well, it got it right this time, although twenty-four is stretching it. In my experience, it’s more a nine-to-five situation, with two to four drivers splitting their time on the track, roughly two hours at a time. After a night of camping out, bragging and heavy drinking, they have another eight hours to look forward to. It’s slightly easier to navigate at that point, since half the entrants are gone by then.”

She stilled, listening closer now. “Why so many?”

“There’s either a crash or a breakdown that can’t be fixed in the paddock in one day, or the teams are too hungover to be worth a shit on the track.” I thought about if for a second and added, “Some of them just decide to go home. One day is enough for them.”

“You’re making it sound easier than I thought it was going to be, not harder. I’m not sure what you’re worried about.”

That was what I was afraid of. She needed to take it seriously.

“It’s still a real racetrack, August. The first day you’ve got more than a hundred cars going over a hundred miles an hour. Some of the vehicles are decorated more for show than speed. Debris can and will come flying at you, possibly obstructing your vision as you navigate every sharp turn. Half of the cars are shit, by design, and parts have been known to fall off right in the middle of the track. You’ll have to keep an eye out for those too. There are always new drivers, and there are always accidents, from simple bumper taps to actual wrecks. Don’t make the mistake of thinking this is easy.”

She’d gone pale as my words sank in. “You said my experience would help.”

“It will, but I can give you more.”

Her eyes flickered to my mouth and I swallowed a groan.

“I don’t race,” I managed after clearing my throat, “but I know experienced drivers that could help give you the edge you need. And I’ll be familiarizing you with what’s under the hood. I assume you know that Jiminy’s engine is in the back end instead of the front?”

“I did know that, thanks,” she said sarcastically, before narrowing her eyes again. “Wait, you want me toworkon the car? I said I could drive, not rebuild a carburetor.”

“Nothing in that car needs to be repaired. The last time I was allowed to work on it, it was in exceptional condition.” I eyed her, so she’d know I was aware that she’d been taking it to a competitor since she’d owned it. “I don’t need you to fix or touch anything. I only need you to be able to point it out.”

“Did you make Gene do this?”

“I did. No one gets behind the wheel until I’m sure they know enough about what they’re doing to not get themselves killed or destroy all my hard work.”

She grinned suddenly. “You sound like you’re about to make me stay after shop class if I get caught not paying attention.” When I gave her a stern look, she chuckled. “I’m listening. You’re the boss, Motor Daddy.”

The challenging look in her eye told me she was doing that on purpose. My mouth went dry and my pulse revved up at the images flitting across my mind’s eye, most of them having to do with my desk and that skirt tossed over her head. But now wasn’t the time. Damn it.

“This is serious, August,” I said severely.

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