Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
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.