Page 91 of Lemon Crush

“You’ll think you have to take the turns fast, but if you do, you can drift or spin and it will slow you down when it’s time for you to speed up. There is a rhythm. Today, we need to find yours.”

“I’ve never had your rhythm.”

“Very few people do.” She sent me a wink. “You’ll get your own.”

“Any other hints before we get out there?”

“Yes. There are two teenage boys over there who are going to be in our batch and show you, by example, all the wrong things to do.”

“How do you know?”

“They’re teenage boys, and I recognize their body language. Just watch me, watch your turning, and stay away from them.”

Adrenaline raced through my veins when the stone-faced man led us to our karts and buckled me in. When the engine started, my hands were shaking, my butt was vibrating, and my head was sweating in the sock that went on under my helmet.

Oddly enough, I suddenly wasn’t afraid at all.

It was go-karts. Who could ever be afraid of go-karts?

It was me. I was the one that could be afraid of them. And my rhythm was more in line with Myrtle the Turtle’s. No wonder I loved that car.

An hour and a half later, I was turning into our neighborhood, my body still humming from my thirty-minute racing fail.

“You were fine,” Bernie assured me for the tenth time. “You were thinking too much, and I knew those kids would be little assholes. But you started getting it there at the end.”

I glanced over at her in disbelief. “How do you know? You were too busy trying to break the sound barrier. Seriously, you’re amazing Bernie. They were intimidated by you. I was driving like an old lady who didn’t know what she was doing.”

“But you had fun?”

“I did.” I stunk up that track with my lack of skill, and I’d had to pull in for equipment checks twice after my wheels went off the track, but it was exhilarating, and I’d enjoyed myself more than I had in a long time. “I hadso muchfun.”

“Good. Now we’ve got a baseline, and on Friday we can go to the track that’s only fifteen minutes from here and try it again. After that? We’ll graduate to real cars.”

“Wait a minute. There’s a go-kart track fifteen minutes from here?”

“Don’t be mad about the drive. You needed to see that track, so you’d know what you were getting into before the meeting. Now you do. Why is there a moving truck in your driveway?”

“What?” I parked at my curb and got out of the car, staring at the truck in confused consternation until I saw the men beside it.

Then my confusion left my consternation in the dust.

There were six of them, and they were all in short shorts and matching purple tanks that made them look as if they’d stepped directly out of an 80s workout video. Or an X-rated movie set.

“Hey, boys. You lost?” Bernie asked saucily from behind me.

“If this is your place, we’ve got a special delivery for you,” the tallest one purred, eyeing her with interest.

“I bet you do,” she purred right back, making me snort, which was, in all cases, the opposite of sexy.

I addressed the young man with the tablet. “This is my house, and I didn’t order anything.”

“We’ve got a king sleigh bed with a matching dresser, one side table and some accessories for a guest room,” Tablet boy responded, sounding bored.

I choked, my smile disappearing. That son of a— “There’s been a mistake.”

He looked down and tapped his pad again. “A Chick Martin already purchased this to be delivered to a Ms. August Sunshine Retta at this address.”

“That’s her. She’s Sunshine,” Bernie rushed to say before I could deny it.

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