29. August
29
AUGUST
My panic was receding with every beat of his heart under my palm, every stroke of his tongue against mine. I wanted to sink into him and never let go.
His words were a balm for my soul. An aphrodisiac that had my body straddling his hips without my permission. He groaned, his large palms gliding down to cup my ass and rub me up against his hardening flesh.
It struck me that I’d written a scene in—and on—a car without testing out the mechanics. He was so big that I could feel the top of my head brushing the roof, which was fine for now but might end up giving me a concussion in the heat of the moment. Too late; the book was already out in the world. But next time I’d have to be more thorough with my research.
Wade was too tall to be comfortable folded into the back, and I had no idea how we could easily get our clothes off, especially since I was wearing my bizarre cooling suit underneath my overalls.
Not that I wouldn’t be willing to try under the right circumstances. When he managed to find my breast with his hand, I knew that if a very important, life-altering event weren’t fifteen to twenty minutes away from happening, I’d find a way to make it work.
He growled in denial when I started softening my kisses, reluctantly parting our lips and trying to get my breathing under control.
“We better get back. The team needs their mechanic.”
“Dalton can handle it,” he said in that melting-honey voice I loved, his gaze hot on my mouth and promising long, sweaty hours of endless debauchery. “We could spend the day at home with no interruptions. Todd and Phoebe have the dogs, and everyone else is here. We could be alone together. Maybe go for another swim. Only this time, skinny-dipping would be mandatory.”
My thighs clenched, because that sounded pretty damn good. But somehow, I found the strength of will to place my hands on his chest and keep him from his goal.
“You have no idea how tempting that is, but I’ve got a race to drive in. I know Gene has the first couple of hours, but I should be there to support the team, shouldn’t I? Yes is the only acceptable answer to that question when I’m already wearing this Tron outfit for the occasion.”
My thin white cooling shirt and the upper section of the pants were covered with squiggly tubes that eventually met on one side and dangled at my waist. I was apparently supposed to attach them to a cooling system in the car in lieu of air conditioning.
The entire team was wearing the same thing, so it couldn’t be a prank.
“You’re driving?” Wade sounded disgruntled and confused as I slid off of him and out the car door. “You changed your mind again?”
I straightened my overalls and opened the honesty bottle for a much-needed drink to cool myself off. “Yes, I did. Well, you did, then I did. It was a team effort.”
“I’m lost.”
“You were my pivotal moment, Wade.” At his blank expression, I took a breath and tried again. “You’ve read my books.”
He nodded, even though it wasn’t a question.
“Well, in every book, there’s that pivotal moment where the main character is given the chance to bow out. To give up their quest or stated goal. It’s the test before the ordeal part of the hero’s journey. Not that I see this car race as a monster I need to slay or anything.” But I sort of did. Somewhere in my mind I must have.
“What I’m trying to say is, you gave me my out. With no judgment, total support and the promise of more orgasms, the way you always do. But you didn’t offer it because you didn’t think I could do it, like before. That made the difference.”
“I’ve never had anyone turn me down with an excuse that creative before.”
“I will never turn you down, to be clear. I’m only postponing.”
When he smiled, I kept going. “Anyway, when you helped me stop worrying about letting everyone else down, I knew I needed to do it. Not for the team or my sister. Not even for Mom. But because I said I was going to, and I need to go slay that racetrack in the face.”
“In the face, huh?”
I dipped back into the car to kiss him on the cheek, dancing away from his strong, roving hands. “I have to leave before I change my mind again.”
Tossing him my keys and the water bottle, I started fast-walking back to the paddock/pit/base, not looking back, even when he called my name, sounding frustrated.
I dazzled him.
It was out there now. He couldn’t take it back and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Sam Retta had been a dazzler. I’d seen men of all ages and professions tumble head over heels for my mother. Stumble over themselves to pump her gas or show up at an airport with a mariachi band and a drunken minister (The last was a true story. That really happened. And it did not have a happy ending for him).
Don’t even get me started on Morgan, who dazzled without even trying. She actively didn’t try and men still lined up to be her bffs or love interests. Until she found the one guy who was more dazzled by what she had to say than what she looked like.
Never tell me online dating doesn’t work out.
And then there was me.
My breasts had gotten an inordinate amount of attention in days of yore, my career was interesting and I could be considered a step above cute now, since I’d been doing all this yoga and weightlifting. But more than that? I didn’t see it.
That lady bait was my boyfriend, and he thought I was dazzling .
I was still dining off the compliment when I walked into the tent to find Lucy waiting for me. He was sitting at his NASA control center, which was the only way a normal person could describe his three monitors, half a dozen radios and the octopussian tangle of wires that looked as if they were about to swallow him whole.
“Where is everyone?” I asked calmly, pretending I hadn’t started implementing my escape plan less than an hour ago.
“They left to help Gene strap in. Now they’re cheering him on as he heads out under the double yellow.”
Double yell—“Oh, the flags. I remember this. Double yellow, slow my fellow. Green means fast, start hauling ass,” I recited.
“You’re a poet,” Lucy said with a sideways grin as he typed on his keyboard.
“There were so many flags, I had to make up something easy to remember them all. And when you write about witches on a regular basis, you get pretty good at rhyming. For the spells,” I added, though I wasn’t sure he was paying attention.
Charming Lucy was focused on his setup.
“I should leave you alone with your toys and join the others.”
“You don’t need to.” He pointed to one of his monitors. “You see that map?”
“Yes?”
“That’s our racing app. It’s going to give us live updates on our car’s location for the duration of the race.” He hit something on his keyboard and the other monitor turned into six sections of live video feeds. “And that’s going to show us everything Gene is seeing and experiencing at any given time.”
“Whoa.” In one view, I could see Gene in his helmet and fire suit, crammed into the tiny car, and in another, the dozens of cars surrounding him. That wasn’t terrifying at all.
“Whoa indeed. We always had a few cheap GoPros, but I’m not sure why we didn’t think of getting all this coverage until now. It’s the shit.”
It must have been Kingston’s idea.
“Happy fifth Lemons anniversary, huh?”
Lucy snapped his fingers. “I can use that to add those babies to my collection. Thank him for the gift, right? It’s the least he can do, since we’re about to make him famous.”
I didn’t remind him that in certain circles, Kingston Haywood was already well beyond famous. I doubted any of his fans would understand why he was making a documentary about this though. There wasn’t nearly enough suffering.
Unless some green newbie in a yellow bug crashes into a wall and bursts into flames.
My inner voice might be evil.
“Look at our boy.”
I glanced up at the screen filled with my brother- in-law and the interior of the car. He was about to take Jiminy on the ride of his life.
Great idea, Mom.
Lucy picked up a radio and clicked a button on the side. “Pit Master to 71, be advised Little Sister has found home base. Also? You have mustard on your chin. I repeat, we’re filming a movie here and you have what I hope is only mustard on your chin. It’s very distracting.”
Gene’s gloved hand reached up automatically and hit the helmet, then flipped off the camera as his chuckle echoed clearly through the tent. “71 to Pit Master, very funny, asshole.”
A laugh bubbled out of me and Lucy’s eyes sparkled. “I told you it was good wholesome fun, didn’t I? Aren’t you glad you stuck around? In a few hours, that’ll be you.”
I looked down at him suspiciously. Had he guessed I was thinking of leaving?
“And there it is. The green flag has dropped.” Lucy winked at me. “Time for Gene to haul ass.”
If the lead-up to the event—the decorating, odd judging and humorous costumes—were unique in the world of racing, the race itself was exactly what I’d expected.
Loud cars driving in circles.
Well, not quite circles. From above, this track looked more like an alligator with its mouth open. Seventeen turns in all—yes, I counted—each with varying degrees of sharpness and difficulty. So, a very bumpy, very mean alligator.
Morgan had decided to stay with our guests in the stands in order to explain the rules and make sure everyone was having a good time. The rest of us hung out in and around the tent and Chick’s RV .
Except for Wade. He’d volunteered to be the spotter, so he was outside on an elevated viewing platform, watching the race with binoculars and wearing a radio at his hip in case of communication difficulties between the pit and driver.
It was probably a good thing. Seeing him would remind me of all the mischief we could be getting into with absolute privacy instead of sitting in a glorified parking lot with all our friends and more hot dogs than anyone could eat.
I actually was having fun. Well, except for the part where Chick and Bernie took turns sharing their Adorable August stories with Kingston.
“That should not be in anyone’s documentary,” I told Chick over Kingston’s shoulder.
Bernie was flicking tears of laughter from her eyes. “I need a reenactment. Do you still have that costume? Because I think you should wear it for the rally. I’m sure I can find a very tall man, a bottle of absinthe and an emu.”
I covered my face. “When you say things like that on camera, they have a tendency to take on a life of their own. It was a very strange and unexpected episode at a promotional event, not a weird sex thing.”
“You’re the only one saying ‘weird sex thing,’” Kingston said placidly from his chair. “None of us need to hear about what you and Wade get up to in your private moments.”
“Speak for yourself,” Chick and Bernie said at the same time. Then they looked at each other and grinned.
Rick, who’d been watching the race over Lucy’s shoulder, walked over to stand beside me. “Did she say something about a rally?”
I wasn’t sure why he was asking me when she was right there, but it was distracting me from my embarrassment so I’d allow it. “She wants us to do the next Lemons Rally in March. ”
“Don’t worry, we’re not joining your team for that,” Bernie said sweetly. Too sweetly.
“Rick takes the rallies pretty seriously,” Lucy the Pit Master said from his throne. “I wouldn’t challenge him to a point contest or anything.”
“So, I shouldn’t say that I know I’ll score more points than he will? That I’m willing to bet on it?” Bernie asked, her tone buttery smooth.
“That sounds like a challenge to me,” Chick said, meeting my wide gaze with one of his own.
“I heard it too,” Kingston said, subtly panning his camera over his shoulder.
Rick’s stare was so intense I was surprised her clothes didn’t catch on fire. “Challenge accepted.”
And here I’d thought the rallies were more relaxed than the races. Obviously, I had some reading up to do. And yeah, I hadn’t been wrong about the sparks between them.
“Last few laps children,” Lucy sang brightly. “Time for August to suit up and get ready for the handoff.”
Before I had a chance to start panicking, I was stripped of my overalls and assisted into my flame-retardant black cotton pants and jacket, then herded outside and handed my gloves and helmet.
“You can do this, sunshine,” Chick said supportively, his hands rubbing my shoulders like I was his prize fighter and he was about to toss me into the ring against the evil, or possibly misunderstood, opponent. “ I can’t, and this is only reinforcing my aversion to ever getting behind the wheel of a car, but you’ve been driving long distances since you were sixteen. Switchbacks and freeways. The open road and LA traffic. You were born for this moment. This is your destiny.”
“I’m vaguely inspired,” Kingston said dryly. “I would need a soundtrack and some CGI to push me over the edge, but I’m close. ”
Chick muttered something I couldn’t hear because my heart was beating too hard. Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t flattering to Kingston.
“She still looks pale. August? Do you want to stretch a little first?”
Bernie bent her leg behind her and pulled it up over her head in a shocking move meant to snap me out of my daze.
Funnily enough, it totally worked. “I’m too tense to stretch, but I’m pretty sure the guy in the next crew over just passed out, B. You’ve still got it.”
She batted her eyelashes in that general direction. “Why, thank you. The judges had the same reaction yesterday.”
“If Granny Hudson is done showing off, it’s time to get serious,” Rick said from the sidelines.
She dropped her pose and rounded on him with an angry stare. “Call me Granny again. I dare you.”
He ignored her and looked at me instead. “You know what to do. Remember what we’ve talked about over the last few months.”
Bernie snorted. “Winning isn’t the point because you set depressingly low expectations for yourselves?”
“Fun is the point,” I repeated dutifully. “After survival. First survival, and then, if you survive? Fun.”
It was Rick’s turn to snort. “Don’t worry. You will survive.”
I giggled a little hysterically when his words hit the button on my mental jukebox and Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” started playing in my head.
“At first I was afraid. I was petrified.”
Yep. That tracked.
“She’ll be fine. We’ll make sure of it.” Lucy came out of the tent for the first time since the race started, still holding a radio in his hand. “The key for you is not to worry about your speed. There’s a group of ladies in their sixties driving a pink Cadillac out there right now. They’re regular racers, and none of them ever go over seventy miles per hour. And why is that? Because they’re only here to have fun. As long as you don’t drive like an asshole, you’ll do great.”
I pointed at Lucy and looked around, making direct eye contact with the rest of my so-called cheerleaders. “ That made me feel better. Someone should have led with that right away. The seventy-miles-per-hour-Mary-Kay-lady thing? I’m good now. Much better. Saint Lucy strikes again.”
He cocked his hip and beamed at me. “I do what I can.”
“Will you stop posing, man? We’re old enough for that to be embarrassing,” Rick muttered, but he said it with a grin.
“This is such an odd group of people.” Chick had a bemused expression on his face. “I don’t say this lightly, but it’s almost better than fiction.”
“High praise,” Kingston said behind him, causing Chick to stiffen.
“Gus?”
Wade took my hand and tugged me off to the side, away from the others at the same time that Jiminy entered the paddock in the distance.
Something was wrong. He looked upset.
“What’s going on? Is it your turn to get last-minute jitters?”
“No jitters. You’re a careful driver and you’ve been practicing. I know you’ll be fine.” He grimaced, his hand tightening on mine. “There was something important I wanted to tell you before we left the parking lot.”
A tickle of non-race-related worry crept into my mind. “It’s not about the car?”
“No.”
The loud cheer as Rick started unhooking and detaching Gene from Jiminy momentarily distracted me. Morgan really came down to greet him with a bucket of fried chicken and a cake ?
“He deserves some excessive celebration,” I told Wade fondly. “Lucy said he made great time today.”
“Yeah, Gene did great. August, about earlier?—”
“August Retta, come on down,” Gene shouted like a game show host from beside the car, his bald head raining sweat, a smile bigger than I’d ever seen from him gracing his bright-red face.
I looked back and covered Wade’s hand with mine. “I really want to hear this, but is it an emergency, or something that can wait until I’m done with my turn? I don’t want to lose my nerve again and I feel like I’m about to.”
There was a slight hitch in his shoulders. “Yeah. Yes, of course. It can wait. Focus on the race.”
He dropped his hand and took a step back, putting more distance between us than I wanted. “I’ll see you when it’s over.”
Chick grabbed my hand and half dragged me away. As they harnessed me into the seat, the others offered up last-minute advice about how to handle myself on the track, but I wasn’t that nervous anymore. At least not about the race.
I couldn’t get Wade’s expression out of my head.
It was just bad timing, right? So why did it feel like I was missing something important?