Before I made a run for it, the door to her office opened and Larken stepped out. "Is everything okay?"

I shook my head and released a loud breath. "Yeah. Totally. What's up with you?"

"I'm just wondering why you're looking through my office window," she said, but it definitely sounded like a question.

"Oh, that?" Right, Vonnie. Think of something. I twisted a piece of hair around my index finger. My cheeks felt hot, but it might have been the Florida August sun and not necessarily pure embarrassment. "I was just wondering if you were in today so we could chat."

"You could have come to the door. Or even given a knock. That also works." She crossed her arms, and I squared my shoulders. I couldn't be this out of practice with creating believable lies.

"Yes, well. You know," I said, rolling back on the heels of my feet. "I didn't want Broadrick to find out. He said I shouldn't waste your time."

When in doubt, it was always a good idea to blame Broadrick.

Larken's face immediately softened. "Men never understand the excitement of getting a new place."

"Exactly." I snapped my fingers and smiled. Thank you for the assist. "I'd love to get back in and see the place again, but Broadrick said I shouldn't bother you because we'd be there soon enough."

Her smile slipped. "He's right about that. I hope to have the paperwork finished by next week, if not sooner."

Shit.

"My mom wants me to measure the kitchen cabinets so she can get us a surprise housewarming gift."

When blaming Broadrick didn't work, blame the mother.

Larken smiled again. "Okay, I'll get in contact with the seller and see if we can't get you in there to do some quick measurements."

"Thank you. You'd be my favorite if you can pull it off, but let's not tell Broadrick, if you know what I mean."

Larken pressed her lips together and pretended to lock them with a key. "It will be our little secret. I'll call you once I have an available time."

"Thanks..." The word stalled in my mouth as a man with graying hair drove past on a golf cart. His hair blew in the breeze as he darted off like he was running from the police. He had an overloaded golf bag strapped to the back, and the clubs rattled as he hit something in the road. "I've got to go."

Harold, the notorious golf cheater, came to a rolling stop at an intersection and then took off again. I ran after him but had to stop and suck in breath only a block later.

Ugh. I couldn't let him get away. What if he was off somewhere to cheat at golf more? Or he and Bert fought, and he hit his friend with a golf club. Now Bert was bleeding out on the thirteenth hole. But I was also wildly out of shape and never stood a chance at keeping up with a golf cart.

I rested my hands on my knees as I doubled over, gasping for air. To my right, someone left a light green golf cart parked on the side of the roadway. The keys dangled from the ignition.

Hmmm.

Was it stealing if I returned it?

Harold beeped the horn of his cart, far ahead of me, forcing a quick decision.

If I brought the cart back, it only counted as borrowing.

I limped toward it, my rips aching with each step. Broadrick woke up early every morning to take NB for a quick workout. Maybe it was time to get my butt out of bed and join them. I flicked the key, starting the golf cart, and backed out into the road.

No, sleep was more important. I didn't need a morning workout. I needed a golf cart. A cute one with some solar lights and padded seats. That would solve all my problems.

I slammed on the gas petal once I had the cart righted on the street and took after Harold. The lanes were smaller since they were designed for carts and not traditional cars, but I did my best to stay on my side of the road.

Harold turned as I approached him from behind. His eyes widened as he saw me coming up on him quickly. His cart lurched forward as he turned around and placed both hands on the wheel.

I narrowed my eyes. So it was going to be like that then? I grabbed the handle, leaned forward, and put the gas pedal to the floor. The cart shot forward, sputtered, and then took off. Whoever owned this thing needed to get that looked at. I'd have to leave them a note.

The warm Florida air rushed through my hair as I chased Harold through the narrow island streets. Someone on the sidewalk waved to him, but he continued forward without even a horn honk. I waved as I passed so they didn't feel left out. A bug flew past me, and I clenched my lips closed. My golf cart needed a windshield, so I never accidentally ate a bug. Why weren't they standard?

Harold's cart tilted on its side as he yanked the wheel, forcing his machine to turn a corner. I slowed-so I didn't die-and did the same move. Two wheels lifted off the roadway as I completed the turn.

"Holy shit."

Thank goodness I didn't have NB with me. After surviving his ride with Barbie, this one would have done him in.

Once I had my borrowed cart on all four wheels again, I stepped on the gas. No matter how hard I pressed, Harold seemed to inch further away from me. The wind burned my eyes, but I didn't want to blink and miss him turning again. He had better angling and speed on me.

I had to make a note for Broadrick that I needed a cart with solar lights and a windshield, and we needed to soup it up for speed and handling.

Harold threw up one hand as if the gesture was for me. I did the same, but with both hands, and then slammed them back to the wheel when the cart tilted to the right. The wheels screeched as I righted it again and continued forward. He turned around to glare at me, and I pointed a finger at him.

His cart moved further away from me.

How was he going so fast? I tapped the gas, pushing it further to the floor, but my cart did not pick up any speed.

He now had a two-block lead on me. A golf cart coming the other direction beeped at us as we took up the middle of the road. Harold beeped back and then swung his cart to the right, slipping between two buildings.

Damn it.

I'd never make that move. Still, I had to try. I released the gas, letting the golf cart slow enough to make the turn without killing me. I jerked forward, hitting the steering wheel with my ribs as my golf cart came to a slow stop mid turn.

"What the hell?" I pushed on the gas pedal, but nothing happened.

I slammed my foot into it, hoping to kick start the cart into moving. Nothing. "You've got to be kidding me."

Harold breezed ahead of me in the short alleyway by the overpriced pizza place. He beeped his horn and gave me a little wave as he scampered off.

Ugh. What a loss. Not only did he spot me, but I didn't see where he planned to stop.

I switched the golf cart off and rested my head on the steering wheel. And now I had to get a dead golf cart back to Larken's real estate office before someone noticed it was missing.

"Run out of power?" Bert, Barbie's husband, asked from the side of a white golf cart parked behind me.

I turned, rubbed my eyebrow, and forced a smile so I didn't appear like I'd just stolen it. "I guess I ran out of gas?"

He chuckled at my shrug. "What you've got there is electric. You're gonna have to hook her up to get more juice."

I did not have time for that. "How do I get back across the island?"

"Looks like you need a push," he said with a grin. He had on a two-piece suit and looked ridiculous sitting behind the wheel of a golf cart, but I wasn't in a place to judge. At least he wasn't dead.

I was not laughing since nothing was funny about this.

"You're new to the golf carts?" he asked when he finally stopped the short bursts of laughter coming from him.

I stepped off the cart and surveyed it from the back. "Yeah, just this week."

"You want me to tow you?" he asked as he stood behind me, staring at the golf cart's ass.

I twisted toward him. "You can do that?"

He snorted. "Only one way to find out."

"I was trying to follow Harold to see where he was going. For the case," I whispered the last part.

Bert stuck his head around the edge of the building to see in the alleyway. "Harold? He's probably on his way to pick up his girlfriend from the dock. She was visiting family."

Hmmm. A likely story, but I nodded as if I accepted it. I'd have to follow up on that lead later.

"I heard a good chunk of gossip today," Bert said as he pulled out a box from the back of his six-seater golf cart. "Do you want to hear it?"

I leaned over him and then pulled back as he removed a long, thick white strap from the box. It had a giant hook on each end. "Absolutely, I do."