Chapter 17

 

 

They raced up the first stretch and into a turn, putting Kate on the inside as she steered into the curve. Reed hung with her, accelerating around the outside and into a short straightaway. Then the track banked left. As Kate slowed for the turn Reed punched it, pulling on the brake as he drifted around the corner, his tires squealing.

He grinned as he swerved past her and into the lead, the tight turn pushing him several feet ahead of Kate’s kart. Over the squeal of tires and growling engines he heard Kate shout, but he was already gone. Accelerating into another drift, he swerved around the corner and sped away, leaving Kate in the dust.

Speeding around the corners, he relished the pull of the kart, the familiar feel of the tires slipping on the concrete. Three times around the track and he came to a screeching halt across the finish line. He turned off the engine and a moment later she stopped beside him. Then she yanked her helmet off and glared.

“What in the—”

The door clattered open and Roman appeared in the opening. “You just beat the lap record—my lap record. How did you do that?”

Reed pulled off his helmet and stepped out of the kart. “After my parents split up my dad decided he wanted to start a small business, and bought a go-kart track in a neighboring town. Part of the agreement was for the previous owner to show my dad how to run the place. The guy used to be a professional racer so he really knew how to drive. I spent most of the first month racing with him. Within a year my dad had driven the track into the ground, but I still remember how to drive.”

Kate began to laugh, the sound building with amusement and chagrin. “Did you know this was our date for the night?” She glanced at Roman as if he’d betrayed her, but he raised his hands helplessly.

“No idea,” Reed said. “But the moment you said go-karts all the memories came flooding back.”

“Get back in your kart,” she said. “You’re going to teach me how to do that.”

Reed raised an eyebrow and looked to Roman. “We might clip the walls a bit.”

“I have time to fix it,” Roman said, and then smiled. “I’ll watch you and then practice it on my own. I can already imagine Jerry’s face when I show him what I can do.”

He disappeared and Reed sank back into the kart. Then Kate called out to him. “You know, I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“For the track?” Reed asked, pausing in donning his helmet.

“For all the surprises,” she said, her eyes on him. “I keep thinking I have you figured out, but then you come up with something like this.” She swept her hand at the track.

“I haven’t driven a kart in fifteen years,” he said. “Not since my dad lost the track. It’s not exactly a normal topic of conversation.”

“You never took a date to do it?”

Reed cocked his head to the side. “Actually, no. After my dad’s business tanked he was depressed for a while, so I made a point not to bring it up. I guess the habit carried into adulthood.”

“Any other secret talents I should know about?” she asked.

He grinned. “They’re best discovered on their own.”

She matched his smile. “So how do we do this?”

While still parked, he described how to pull the brake right as you turned the steering wheel, how to backspin the wheel so the tires kept the kart from spinning out, and when to release the brake and press on the gas, accelerating out of the turn into a straightaway.

“Try to stay in the center of the turn for now,” he said. “When you know how the kart is going to react, then you can bring it closer to the inside wall.”

“But you didn’t know that kart,” she said shrewdly.

“True,” he said. “So maybe I was trying to get your attention a little bit.”

“Only a little?”

“Did it work?”

She grinned. “I like it fast.” Then she flushed and shoved her helmet on. “Ready when you are.”

“I’ll go first,” he said. “Stay behind me and only pull a little on the brake. Then we’ll take it faster.”

He gunned the engine and accelerated but kept well below top speed. Coming up on the first curve he did as he’d explained—moderate speed and moderate pull on the brake. Then he slowed on the opposite side and looked back. Kate turned into the curve at the right angle and braked, but didn’t turn into the skid. The kart spun out and bounced lightly off the wall.

“Sorry Roman!” she shouted.

His voice came over the intercom. “Like I said, I can fix it.”

“I can testify to that!” Reed called.

Kate laughed and turned her cart forward once more. When she waved her readiness, Reed did the same, leading her into the long curve. He’d forgotten to say she would need more speed with the longer curve, and she came to a stop halfway through.

For the next hour he taught her how to skid around the corners, coaching her until she could pull off a respectable drift. Roman requested a turn, and Reed and Kate sat in the small bleachers overlooking the track.

Reed was conscious of their proximity but did not move away. After doing the track several times, it felt good to sit in the open and stretch, and he enjoyed watching Roman attempt the skid.

“Please tell me I did better than that,” Kate said, gesturing to Roman spinning on the track.

Reed sipped on the Sprite they had gotten from the concession stand. “You did.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Really,” he said. “He’s doing well, but he has too many habits. You had less experience so you could learn easier.”

She smiled as Roman hit the guardrail again. His curse was audible from their seats in the bleachers. He backed up and tried again. Night had fallen and so had the temperature. Kate scooted closer to Reed.

“It’s funny how everyone has random things from their past,” Kate said. “Did you know Brittney is a really good artist?”

“Seriously?”

“She got into it as a kid,” Kate said. “I didn’t know until I saw her collection of pencils on her desk and asked.”

“Everyone has a past,” Reed said. “It would take a lifetime to truly know another person.”

“So tell me something else about yourself,” she said, opening a bag of chips.

Reed considered her request. “I got stitches on my forehead when I was two. My sister and I were playing king of the mountain and she pushed me off. I hit a cabinet and split my head open.” He held up his hair to show the scar, a thin line just above his ear.

“I got this two years ago,” she said, lifting her sleeve to show a wide scar on her shoulder. “Bake and Tyler were practicing knife fighting in the kitchen and it grew heated. I was foolish enough to intervene and caught a knife in the shoulder.”

He reached out and traced a line down the scar. Knobby and wide, it had obviously been a small but ugly wound. Her eyes widened at his touch and he realized the intimacy of the contact, of his hand caressing her shoulder. Their eyes met and he withdrew his fingers.

“I thought you said no physical contact.”

“Let’s just say the lines are becoming blurry.”

She raised an eyebrow and studied his expression, but he smiled and looked away. She opened her mouth to speak and then shut it. Before she could decide what to say, Roman managed to drift around a corner, his ensuing shout of victory echoing off the track walls.

“He’s getting better,” she said.

“Habits aren’t so hard to change,” he said.

“Really?” she asked, incredulous. “I’ve been trying to break the habit of hitting snooze on the alarm clock for years.”

“On which days do you wake up on time?” he asked.

“When I have a reason that forces me from the warm comfort of my incredibly soft blankets.”

“Exactly,” he said. “Breaking a habit is easy.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand what you mean. How is this easy?”

“You’re just missing the key ingredient,” he said, and met her gaze. “Any habit can be broken . . . if you have the right motivation.”

Her eyebrows knit together as she studied his expression. He didn’t want to tell her that he’d made his choice, but he did want to make his stance clear. She began to smile, the expression spreading to lighten her features.

“Care for another race?” she asked, gesturing to the track.

“Always,” he said, his eyes on her.