“Then a man is entitled to take twenty-four hours off once in a great while. I usually work seven days a week during the season. I can miss one lousy Monday.”
Toni sighed as Ty hopped into his car, tossing his duffel bag on the passenger seat. “Fine. What kind of campsite? Are you taking your coach?”
Imogen would probably love the idea of spending the night in the tricked-out motor coach that he lived in every weekend at the various tracks he raced, since given the amount of time he spent on the road, his coach was almost as comfortable as his house. But that wasn’t what he had in mind for Imogen—he wanted a simple, stripped-down experience with her. “No, tent camping.”
“You haven’t done that in a while. Are you going alone?”
“No. And get a site as remote as possible.” He didn’t want to share Imogen’s company with a crowd of neighbors.
“Do you think that’s a good idea with Nikki? She’s not really the outdoorsy type from what I can tell.”
Peeling out of his driveway, he told her, “I told you Nikki and I broke up. I’m taking someone else camping.”
“Wow, that’s a two-day turnaround from one girlfriend to the next. Impressive.”
Ty rolled his eyes even though she couldn’t see him. “Thank you. Though I can’t really call her my girlfriend. Yet.” He would like to, though, and that surprised him. He hadn’t thought he was in the market for a more serious relationship, but Imogen had him thinking all kinds of crazy thoughts.
“Alright, let me off this phone so I can run around and do all this extra work you just dumped in my lap with no warning.”
It was a good thing she did her job without complaining. Ty grinned. They did work well together, despite her grousing and his protesting. “Thank you, gorgeous. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Sure you will. I wait with bated breath for that. Please.” But then she ruined the bite of her remarks by adding, “And if I can’t find the notes for Much Ado on audio, just call me and I’ll walk you through the story. I’ve always been fond of old Will.”
Ty was touched by that and he smiled. “Thanks, I appreciate it. You are a dream, Toni.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
“OH, boy,” was Tamara’s opinion when Imogen admitted to her two friends she had slept with Ty.
“You shitting me?” Suzanne asked. “Was he any good?”
They were in a Mexican restaurant that had beco me their favorite haunt for cheesy food and the occasional margaritas. Tamara looked worried, Suzanne gleefully pleased.
Imogen sucked down her drink nervously and nodded. She had felt compelled to share her night with Ty with her friends, but now she felt strangely uncomfortable that she had.
Suzanne grinned. “Like he took you to regions on the passion chart previously uncharted good, or like taking a bubble bath kind of good? You know, relaxing and satisfying, but not something you’re going to remember a week later.”
Clearing her throat, she willed herself not to blush. “The first one.”
Now Suzanne laughed. “Yee haw. That’s what I’m talking about. So, what is he like? Is he hung?”
“Suz!” Tamara protested, dropping her fork onto her plate. “I don’t think that’s any of our business.”
“Why not?” Suzanne looked unfazed.
Imogen didn’t really want to discuss Ty’s penis size with her friends, but she had to admit, Suzanne’s enthusiasm for the event was helpful. She was feeling a little strange about their night together herself. She was so glad she had experienced what she had with him, and she had enjoyed herself immensely, both physically and emotionally. Which was the crux of her concern.
She liked Ty.
She always had.
Even when she had tried to convince herself she was just physically attracted to him, she had known all along that she had a bit of a crush on him.
Now that she had gotten, well, down and dirty with him, that crush had amplified, and that scared her.
Ignoring her enchiladas, Imogen sighed. “It was so, so good. I think that’s a bad thing.”
“Why, sweetie?” Tamara asked, looking concerned. “I think it would be bad if the sex sucked, but good sex shouldn’t be a bad thing, right?”
“Not in my book,” Suzanne said.
Imogen didn’t answer right away, and Tamara said, “You like him too much, don’t you? This isn’t casual for you, is it?”
Yikes. “Of course it is,” she protested. “I mean, where would it go? He’s a race car driver who likes being outdoors; he’s impulsive, reckless. I’m methodical, logical, addicted to air-conditioning. It would never work, and I know that. I just wanted to do it anyway, and I think that was a miscalculation on my part. Because now I know what sex with him is like. And it’s amazing.”
“Why? What’s he doing exactly?” Suzanne turned to Tamara. “I bet he’s hung.”
Tamara smacked Suzanne on the arm. “Whether a man is hung or not isn’t the only thing necessary to have amazing sex with him.”
“Are you saying Elec isn’t hung?” Suzanne asked.
The expression on horror on Tamara’s face actually made Imogen smile.
“Of course he is,” Tamara said. Her hands came up to indicate size before she quickly dropped them. “It . . . he keeps me very happy.”
Now Suzanne and Imogen were both laughing.
“Anyway,” Tamara said, waving her hand around. “This isn’t about me and Elec. This is about you and Ty. I don’t think you can assume that future sex is ruined for you. Just look at this way—if Ty could give that to you, so can some other man. He opened a sexual door for you, and that’s a positive outcome.”
“You going to do it again with him?” Suzanne asked, studying her carefully.
“She just said she isn’t,” Tamara said.
“No. I didn’t. And yes, I actually am.” Imogen took another massive sip of her drink.
“I knew it,” Suzanne said triumphantly.
“You are?” Tamara asked in disbelief. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
“Since when does being wise come into play when you’re coming?” Suzanne asked. “The girl got her freak on and she wants to do it again. No mystery there.”
“Yeah, but if she’s worried about getting emotionally involved with him, seeing him again might not be the best thing to do.”