Free Sunburn by Rosanna Leo

with … things that move faster than I do.” As if to prove her point, she gave a frightful lurch, one that almost sent her flying off the vehicle that looked like a unicycle on steroids.
    Apollo anticipated her movements and placed himself behind her, steadying her. He put his hands on her waist, making her stiffen, and slid a foot between hers. “Your feet are uneven,” he said quietly, moving her foot with his. “They need to be in line. Then all you do is balance. When you want to move forward, you lean forward. It senses your body movements and is in tune with them. It’ll follow you. Does that make sense?”
    She didn’t know. She was too busy concentrating on the feel of his fingers on her midsection. “I guess so.”
    He patted her waist, making her stiffen again. “Whoa. You are one jumpy woman.” He vaulted onto his own Segway with the ease of someone who’d burst out of the womb on one, and grinned over at her. “I think, while I’m showing you around the resort, I’m going to teach you how to relax too.”
    She couldn’t help grinning back. “If you say so.”
    With a dare in his glittering eyes, Apollo nodded toward her. “Now see if you can catch me!” He leaned forward on his machine and was off like a shot of lightning, streaking down the boardwalk.
    “Hey, no fair,” Patience called. As she stared at his retreating form, her sense of competition flared. Determined, she looked at her Segway, breathed in, and leaned forward. Then leaned back. Then leaned forward. Then leaned back. Then leaned forward. Moving like a jerky snail, she slowly shuffled her way down the boardwalk, feeling like an utter fool.
    Within moments, Apollo was back, laughing and doing circles around her as if he were some crazed NASCAR driver with a death wish. “You seem to be a little stuck there, Patience. Need some help?”
    “No, I don’t need your help,” she barked. “We’re supposed to be touring the resort. We can’t do that if I’m not moving. Can’t we use one of those golf-cart thingies?”
    “You’re doing great,” he encouraged, making her even more annoyed. “Just let go a little. Stop trying to control every movement. Let your instincts take over.”
    She stared at him. She was already sweating buckets, and he looked as refreshed as if he’d just had a nice dip in the pool. Let her instincts take over. Her instincts were telling her to throttle him.
    Or to kiss him.
    Oh, for the love of Mike!
    Another Segway zoomed behind her on her other side, and she braced herself, waiting for a collision. She looked up. It was Claude Lenoir, also riding a Segway so expertly it seemed to be an extension of his skinny, French body.
    She teetered between the two whizzing Segways on either side of her, lost her balance, and plummeted back off her machine and off the boardwalk. She fell into the sand, landed flat on her back, and swallowed a huge amount of the gritty stuff.
    As both men launched themselves off their Segways and ran over, she tried to spit the sand out of her mouth in as ladylike a fashion as she could achieve. However, she quickly learned it was impossible. Sputtering and hissing, she wiped the golden sand off her tongue and almost retched. It was everywhere. In her eyes. In her ears. In her stomach. She wiped what she suspected was a long string of snot from her nose and looked up.
    Only to find the men kneeling in front of her. Claude was biting back a guffaw. And Apollo looked ready to strangle the Frenchman. With a gentle hand, he brushed some of the sand off the delicate skin under her left eye, and then turned to Claude.
    “You startled her. You shouldn’t have done that.”
    Claude took offense and snorted. “Please, Monsieur Bartender, I could see you from down the beach. You were, as they say, popping wheelies around her yourself. Don’t blame me.”
    If there hadn’t been so much grit in her eye, Patience could have sworn Apollo was going to hit Claude. Really punch him in the