Hard and Fast (Fast Track #2)(39)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“You stayed together all through high school?”

“Yep. We never broke up, not even once, not even for a day. Jack started racing on the local track and worked his way up to earning a little bit of money at it while I was finishing school. We started out dirt poor with nothing but our faith in the future and our love. We’ve been together twenty-one years and had all manner of ups and downs, and yet marriage and loving Jack have never been hard. Life has been hard at times, but marriage never has been. Now we have four beautiful, occasionally bratty kids, a gorgeous house, and Jack’s career, and I feel very blessed.”

Imogen had a lump in her throat staring across the table at the pure contentment on Tabby’s face. She loved her husband, and he loved her, and they had built a life together.

She had never expected to pine for hearth and home and a man to call her own, but at that moment, watching the joy of one woman’s love for her husband, Imogen truly felt the ache of wanting that for herself.

Tabby’s cell phone chimed in her purse and she gave Imogen a shrug of apology. “I’m sorry, I’m not usually the rudest woman in the world, but do you mind if I see who this is? I want to make sure it’s not the kids or Jack. We have a deal that he always calls me when he arrives at the next racetrack so I know he made it safely.”

“Sure, of course. I don’t mind.” Imogen was pondering anyway, thinking that Tabby’s story of meeting and falling in love with Jack didn’t follow the Six Steps at all.

Tabby checked the screen on her phone, then said, “It’s Jack. Let me take this. I swear I’ll only be two minutes.”

“No problem. Take your time.” Imogen pulled out her own phone, aware of exactly who she was hoping to have a voice mail or text message from. Not that she was really expecting Ty to contact her until he had the camping details, but she couldn’t help but think it might be nice to hear from him since she had just spent the night with him.

Pulling out her own phone, she got excited for half a second when she realized she did have a text, until she opened the message and realized it was from Evan Monroe. He was asking if he could call to make plans to go out to dinner.

Oy. This was what she got for flirting with a man she wasn’t really attracted to. Now she had to find some way to turn him down without being rude or hurting his feelings.

Regardless of whether she and Ty ever shared more than a few steamy nights together, this was definitely a lesson worth learning. Tabby had spent twenty-plus years happy with her husband because from day one there had be an indisputable attraction between them, and it was starting to occur to Imogen that, dating guide or not, that was not a feeling you could force, either in yourself or in the other person.

Tabby said into her phone, “I love you, too, you handsome man.” Then she tucked her phone back into her purse and said, “Where were we?”

Good question. If Imogen only knew where she was and what she was doing, she would feel much better, but for the first time in her life, logic seemed to be failing her.

TY was keyed up with excitement and a fair amount of nerves when he pulled into Imogen’s apartment complex to pick her up Monday morning. He’d had a lousy race the day before, finishing eighth, which earlier in the year would have pleased him, but with only four races left in the season, left him dissatisfied. He was still in contention for the overall championship, and every point counted. To that purpose, he really shouldn’t be taking today and tomorrow off. He should be sitting down with the team and assessing what had happened on Sunday and going over the car for Atlanta.

But he had already made plans with Imogen and he didn’t want to cancel them. One, because it would look rude. Two, because he wanted to spend time with her. Lots of quality time naked. That was good for his physical and mental health and surely that was good for racing performance. He would just have to haul his butt back on Tuesday and head straight to the garage. In the meantime, he needed to make sure Imogen was having a great time camping and he needed to display a working knowledge of Much Ado About Nothing.

He’d struggled with the play all weekend, listening to it on his iPod whenever he had a spare few minutes. He’d gone jogging and listened to it, eaten breakfast at the Waffle House solo and listened to it, and sat in his lawn chair outside his coach, trying desperately to make sense of what the voice actors were saying. He tried really damn hard but, in the end, had only had a basic outline of the story. Calling that good enough, he’d called Toni and had her confirm he was at least in the right ballpark. Then he’d asked her for the most romantic quote of the play. Toni had indicated that Much Ado About Nothing wasn’t exactly Shakespeare’s most swoon-worthy play, but she managed to find a passage that Ty thought sounded pretty darn hot. He had made her repeat it to him four times so he could commit it to memory. That was one thing Ty could say about his brain—he had a good memory, probably because he couldn’t really write anything down.

Going over the quote in his head, he was confident he had it right, so Ty turned off the car and got out, sniffing the air. It was warm already, and they were looking at temperatures in the eighties, the last gasp of summer before fall really kicked in. Perfect weather for camping.

Imogen looked sleepy and grumpy and damn adorable when she answered the door. She had her hair in a sleek ponytail, her face free of any makeup, her glasses sliding down her nose, a frazzled and unfocused expression on her face. Dressed in what Ty would deem dressy jeans, an expensive-looking black-and-white-striped short-sleeve sweater, and little black shoes, he realized she had a different understanding of camping than he did.

He also realized she hadn’t had her coffee yet when she said, “Why does anyone get up this early on purpose?” by way of greeting.

Ty reached out and pushed her glasses up her nose. He gave her a soft kiss. “Me. And if you show me your bag, I’ll toss it in the car and we’ll run you through the drive-thru at McDonald’s and get you a coffee.”

For a second, she just stared at him, clearly flummoxed. “Okay. Good. Coffee is good.” Then she looked around her apartment, which was far more cluttered than Ty would have ever guessed. “My bag is still in my bedroom. Sorry for the mess.” She moved a pile of books from the couch to the coffee table on her way by.

“This is a great apartment. I can really see your personality.” It was true. While there was an amazing amount of clutter, books and papers scattered on every available surface and even stacked on the floor, the furniture was eclectic and comfortable, a hodgepodge of antique lamps and chandeliers, modern glass tables, and a soft white slip-covered couch. Everything looked sort of worn and soft and touchable, the early-morning light from the big picture window bouncing off the glass tables and heavy crystal chandeliers. She had a theme to her artwork; every oil painting hung on the walls was a portrait of a woman, from one wearing a huge ball gown to one in a canary yellow suit. She also had a vintage eyeglass collection, displayed on a chest of drawers painted a soft, chipped yellow.