Heather felt a sudden panic. “But . . . I’ve never driven one before.”
“And that’s what I’m going to teach you,” Bo said in a tone that implied it was all very simple. Not giving her a chance to back out, he pointed to where the ignition key was still in its proper place, then climbed into the passenger side of the cart. “Come on, we’re wasting daylight!”
Heather stood there flummoxed for a moment, then gathered her resolve: she would just have to be brave enough to master the art of golf carts. She climbed behind the wheel, very aware that Bo sat only inches away.
“Okay, I’m ready,” she said, gripping the wheel.
Bo looked at her sideways, his eyes crinkling in what appeared to be amusement. “It’s supposed to be fun, not torture.”
“I-I get nervous behind the wheel. I d-don’t like to drive,” she managed to explain.
“You do have a license, though, right?” he asked in a half-joking manner.
Heather nodded. “Yes. But it’s been a while.”
“It’ll come back to you,” Bo said confidently. “Driving a golf cart is way easier than driving a car, anyway.” He clapped his hands together to drum up enthusiasm. “See that key? Fire her up.”
She did. When she stepped on the gas the cart lurched, and she braked hard. They both jerked forward.
“I’m sorry!” she blurted out, and flushed. She couldn’t even get into gear. She must look like the biggest loser on the planet.
“At least we know the seat belts work.”
She turned to see Bo smiling, and immediately they both laughed.
“Let’s try that again,” Bo said.
With that, he began teaching her the rudimentary skills of driving a golf cart. Even with a street-legal one, it was pretty easy to learn. He didn’t rush her and gave her ample time to ask questions. She felt more relaxed after they did the requisite backward and forward moves till she got a feel for it.
“Let’s take her out for a real spin,” Bo said.
Heather felt a sudden shiver of anxiety at the prospect of driving in the street. She’d need to venture out for supplies for herself eventually—FreshDirect hadn’t quite made it to the barrier island. Yet her heart began pounding as if on command, and all she wanted to do was park the cart and go inside and hide.
“I’m pretty tired,” she said. “I think I’ll just park it and try again tomorrow. Besides, I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”
“Hey, no problem.” Bo slid from the cart with ease. The cart was sitting beside the porch. He went to look under the porch at the wide-open space provided by the raised house.
“You know,” he said, “I could clear all this crap out of here, lay some gravel, and it would make a perfect parking spot for that golf cart.”
Heather’s face lit up. “Really? Will it fit under there?”
“Yep. Once I get all the grass out. I remember Miss Lovie used to park her VW bug under here. So that golf cart will fit, no problem.”
“I saw Cara driving a gold VW. Was that it?”
“Yep. ‘The Gold Bug,’ it’s called. From that story by Edgar Allan Poe. Everyone knew when they saw that gold bug drive by it was Miss Lovie. All us kids used to go wild for it. Cara’s got a new model, but she drives it just like her mama did.”
“I’ll help you clean that space out. And buy the gravel. Of course,” she quickly added, not wanting him to feel she would expect Cara to pay for it. “Cara has enough on her mind. I don’t want to bother her with this. You don’t think she’ll mind?”
“Mind? She’ll be thrilled. She’s always complaining about Brett never throwing things out.” Bo’s face suddenly went still when he realized what he’d just said. He added sadly, “It’s hard to remember that Brett isn’t still alive. I expect him to drive up here any minute and check on how things are going on the deck.”
She looked at his averted face, his long forehead, the way his blond hair fell over it in tousled waves, as free and relaxed as the man himself. She thought how Bo always seemed so ready to help her, not just because he’d been hired by Brett to finish the deck. That had nothing to do with her. Rather, and this was hard for her to believe, Bo seemed to genuinely enjoy her company. She wasn’t imagining the way he looked at her with a spark of attraction in his eyes. It was very flattering, especially since she was discovering that the feeling was mutual.
How awkward could it be to go for a ride with him? They’d set off, remark lamely on the weather and the scenery they passed. He’d be sure to fill the dead air with interesting comments about what was happening on the island. They’d chat, they’d laugh. It was no big deal. Just friends. Then she sighed, not wanting to stick Bo into the friend zone.
“You know what,” Heather said gathering her courage. “I was actually hoping to get something to send to Cara. Is there a flower shop on the island?” She shrugged. “Or candy?”
Bo shook his head. “Not on the island. Though you could get flowers at the grocer. We could drop them off on the way back. She lives right close to the grocery store.”
“Drop them off?? Oh, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Heather said, backtracking. “I heard Flo saying that Cara wasn’t up to seeing anyone. I’m sure she wouldn’t want me just stopping by.”
“Emmi’s there,” Bo said all-knowingly.
“Who’s Emmi?”
“Her best friend. They’ve been friends since they were both in diapers. Her family used to have one of the old cottages on the island near here, but they up and sold it a while back. Now Emmi lives with Flo.”
“Emmi’s my neighbor?” Heather remembered the woman she’d seen through the window. “Does she by any chance have red hair?”
“That’ll be her. She’s a fiery personality, too. I swear, I can’t figure out how she and Flo can live together.”
“Are they . . .” Heather paused. “Together?”
Bo looked at her as if she’d grown another head. “Like a couple?” He laughed and shook his head. “If you knew their personalities, you’d see why I laughed. No, Emmi moved in after her divorce. I reckon they’re more like mother and daughter. Flo’s been the maiden aunt for both Emmi and Cara all their lives. I reckon she’ll take you under her wing next.”
Heather thought she might like being taken under Flo’s wing.
“Anyway, Emmi’s accepting all offerings for Cara. It won’t be a problem. We’ll just drop them off and go.”
“I suppose I have to get comfortable driving the golf cart, and I don’t feel quite ready to go it alone.” She laughed in a self-deprecating way. “I don’t even know how to get there.”
His eyes gleamed with pleasure. “It’s actually a little tricky crossing Palm Boulevard to the store,” he said. “Golf carts aren’t allowed to drive on Palm. Are you ready to go now?”