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“Yeah, but you can leave that one here,” I say, gesturing to my car behind her. “I have a couple down in the garage near the track that we can use. They have roll-cages, so we can get a little crazy.” I laugh when she arches her brow in response.
I lead her around the corner of the house and lift the garage door, making my way inside and pulling the keys to the golf cart, as well as the set of keys to the track and outbuildings off of a hook on the wall.
“Come on,” I call after her as I slide in behind the wheel of the golf cart and start it up. She only hesitates for a second before making her way inside and sliding in next to me.
I can feel the warmth from the afternoon radiating off her, seeping into my side.
Pulling out, I make my way toward the small, paved path that will take us straight down the hill toward the track.
“You may want to hang on,” I warn.
“What—?”
Her question is cut short when I step on the gas, and we lurch downhill. We’re only going maybe twenty miles an hour, but the open structure of the golf cart makes it feel a little less than sturdy at times.
She’s white knuckling the hand hold near her head, holding herself in place with her other hand pressed securely against the makeshift dashboard. Her rigid posture pulls a laugh from deep within my chest, causing her head to whip toward me with daggers in her eyes. This, of course, only causes me to laugh even harder.
“You need to loosen up, Princess,” I shout over the whirring of the tiny engine.
“Why? So I can fly out the side?” She snaps.
“I wouldn’t let you fly out,” I chuckle, easing up on the gas a bit.
“Uh huh, sure.”
“What? I assumed you liked it fast,” I say, smirking.
Her glare is enough to send me into another fit of laughter.
We reached the bottom of the hill and coast toward the outbuildings surrounding the track. After getting her set up in one of the cars she follows me past the track toward a flat top. The open space will allow her to familiarize herself with the car without having to worry.
She pulls up alongside me and lowers her window.
“Go ahead, try it out.”
She revs the engine and pulls away from me, cutting across the blacktop in seconds before whipping the car into a one-eighty. I watch as Keaton conducts several similar maneuvers, testing out the limits of the vehicle.
Once she feels comfortable, we head back down to the track and begin the first of several laps. I managed to stay out in front of her the first few times, but after she familiarized herself with the course, things really started to get interesting.
In one of the two straightaways, she managed to cut out in front of me. This gives me the perfect view of her as we enter the hairpin turn, and I watched as her back tires reach the border of the track, sailing over the red and white striped curbing. It didn’t slow her down enough to allow me to pass her, but out of curiosity, I let her remain in front of me to continue observing her.
Once again, as we entered the hairpin, Keaton sailed over the curbing, slowing down for a fraction of a second before straightening back out. This happens every time we take that turn, and I finally use it to my advantage, drifting through the turn, nearly brushing the front panel of her car before I straighten out and pull ahead of her.
Hmm, interesting.
We race for nearly an hour before calling it quits and pulling the cars back into the outbuildings.
“So, what did you think?” I ask Keaton as we make our way back over to the golf cart.
“It was fun,” she says simply.
I’m not sure if Keaton is just a woman of few words, or if she just acts this way with me, but I’m determined to get her to open up.
“Yeah, it was. Thank you for helping me practice.”
We take the cart back up the hill toward my house, going much slower than we did on the way down.
“Yeah, no problem. It was nice to just drive and not worry about anyone or anything.”
