“Masters in sociology? Maybe you should do a thesis on the culture of stock car racing.”
Elec grinned at her. “Plenty of material there.”
Tamara was fairly certain he meant it as a joke, but Imogen looked thoughtful.
“There might be something there . . . huh.”
“You can interview me,” Ty said, holding his bag out to Imogen. “Candy?” Ty actually looked annoyed that he couldn’t figure out what the grad student’s name was, like Imogen had intentionally taken a difficult moniker just to trip him up.
“No, thank you.” Imogen shook her head. “I’m allergic to red dye.”
“Oh. Sorry. Wasn’t trying to kill you or anything.” Ty turned and Tamara saw him roll his eyes at Ryder.
Hoping Imogen hadn’t seen the rude gesture, Tamara said, “Well, we’re heading into the kitchen for a few minutes to discuss some school business. Can you all try not to burn the house down or destroy anything for five minutes?”
“Actually, Tammy, we’ll head on out of here,” Ryder said, peeling himself off the floor.
“We just wanted to say hi to the sick rug rats.”
“Yep.” Ty dropped the bag of candy on the coffee table. “Don’t eat all of that tonight,” he said with a wink at the kids. “We’ll talk to you soon, Tammy. See ya, Elec.” Then he said to Imogen, “Nice to meet you, Emma Jean.”
Tamara sighed. “Her name is—”
But Imogen just shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”
“What?” Ty said. “Look, I’m sorry, I admit it, I can’t figure your name out. I’ve never heard that name before and I can’t wrap my brain around it. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try or that you shouldn’t expect me to learn it.”
Before either of them could say anything to his speech, he added, “It’s really not Emma Jean?”
Imogen actually pressed her lips together to contain a grin. “No, it’s not. It’s Imogen. I-m-o-g-e-n. It’s Shakespearean, and I’m very aware it’s a difficult name for the average person, so I appreciate you trying to learn it.”
Ty grinned at her. “You calling me average?”
Imogen blushed. “No, no, of course not.”
Ryder leaned in to Tamara. “So, uh, what exactly is going on with you and number fifty-six over there?”
Tamara looked at Ryder, not sure what his reaction to her dating Elec would be, knowing how close he had been to Pete. “I don’t know,” she told him in all honesty.
“Well, just so you know, I’m all out of properties for you two to get it on in, unless you want to do it in my car.”
Yep, that was a blush flooding her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being tacky . . .”
“Hey, sometimes you just can’t wait and I can appreciate that. I think it’s great that you’re having fun. Just be careful. Be sure of what you’re doing, you know? What you want.”
That was the problem. She had no clue what she really wanted. “Thanks, Ryder. Now will you take Ty out of here before he has my TA running back to Manhattan with her hands over her ears?”
“Sure.” Ryder gave a whistle. “Hey, McCordle, train’s leaving. I’m in need of a cold one.
Let’s hit the bar.”
“I’m there with ya,” Ty said, giving a wave to Imogen.
They said good-bye to the kids, then they were gone, slamming the front door behind them.
Tamara looked at Elec. “Do you mind if I talk to Imogen for a minute?”
“No, not at all.”
“Are you okay with them?” she asked nervously. She didn’t want to foist the responsibility of watching her kids onto him.
“We’re fine. Aren’t we?” he asked Hunter, who was still hanging on his back.
“Yep,” her daughter said.
“Okay, we’ll be in my office.” Tamara led Imogen down the hall. “I’m really sorry about Ty . . . he wasn’t trying to be rude. He just honestly didn’t understand what your name was.”
“I know.” Imogen shrugged. “I’m used to it. When I was a kid, I wished desperately that if my parents had wanted a Shakespearean name, they could have chosen Paris or Portia or even Juliet, but I’ve grown into it. I hear it’s a very popular baby name in Britain now, which strikes me as amusing. I’m never quite in the right place at the right time. And it definitely could have been worse. They could have named me after a piece of fruit.”
Tamara laughed. “That’s true. Hey, for what it’s worth, I love your name. Try having everyone call you Tammy. It’s so ordinary. And virtually no one outside of my professional environment calls me by my full name.”
“I noticed Ryder and Ty call you Tammy. It surprised me.”
“I ask them to call me Tamara, but they never do.” Tamara stepped into her office, which was her kid-free haven. It had an abundance of turquoise, pink, and splashes of black on a completely white backdrop. “Have a seat.”
“Ty is, um, quite attractive,” Imogen said, settling into a faux Louis IV chair that Tamara had painted turquoise and reupholstered in a zebra print, and resting her bag in her lap.
“Yeah, he is,” Tamara said, somewhat surprised. Ty didn’t seem like the type Imogen would find good-looking, especially after he’d butchered her name twelve times.
“Very . . . masculine.”
Uh-oh. Tamara knew that tone and that look and she figured she might as well nip this one in the bud. Ty and Imogen would be about as good together as bacteria and penicillin. And she wasn’t sure who would destroy who, but it wouldn’t be pretty.
“He’s definitely a true driver—great reflexes, competitive . . . and interested in young bimbos. You should see the latest he’s been dating. If that one could string three words together, I’d be stunned.”
“Oh, really?” Imogen looked disappointed. “Why do men do that?”
“I don’t know. Because it’s easy? No danger of hurt feelings? I have no idea.”
The wheels in Imogen’s very intelligent head seemed to be turning, so Tamara changed the subject back to work. “So about the summer . . . I’m scheduled to teach three courses.”
Ten minutes later, she had shown Imogen out the front door, satisfied that they could continue their mutually beneficial working relationship over the summer. No one was in the family room, so trying not to worry, Tamara went into the kitchen.