"With my mother, it was Mace," Imogen said. "Living in Manhattan, I usually felt safe because there were always people around, but my mother made my carry Mace at all times, and I'm sure it was the smart thing to do. Of course, if I had ever been attacked, I probably would have dropped the stupid can before I could use it."
"No kidding." Tabby shrugged. "So, I freaked out, of course, and was going to run back into the ice cream shop, but suddenly there was Jack, standing next to me. He tells the guy to move along, that I'm with him, and he shouldn't be talking to teenage girls anyways."
"The guy looked annoyed, but he did leave right away, and then Jack looked at me and asked if I was alright. I nodded, because I had no spit left in my mouth and couldn't talk, and then he offered me a ride home. I nodded yes." Tabby grinned. "And then he yelled at me for being stupid enough to accept his offer of a ride and how did I know he was any better than that other guy? So then I was mortified, and he marched me into the store and made me use the pay phone to call my mother to come and pick me up. He even got on the phone and told her in a very respectful voice that a rather unsavory man had been talking to me and he felt that, for my safety, she should come on up and fetch me. And the whole time I'm thinking not only is my mother going to be furious with me, this cute, cute boy thinks I'm a foolish little girl."
"That does sound rather mortifying," Imogen said sympathetically, adding some sugar to her tea. "So what happened?"
"I politely thanked him, then sat down at a picnic table outside, assuming he was done with me and pretty much just wanting to die. But he sat down on top of the table, feet on the bench, and started talking, telling me how he's going to be a famous stock car driver and telling me all about his car. I didn't know squat about racing, which seemed to please him as much as if I had been a fan, because this gave him the chance to tell me everything from the ground up. He told me his name was Jack and he told me that he'd seen me in church, that I always sat in the eighth row next to old Mr. Hodgkins. Now I was shocked that he could know that, when I'd never seen him before. I mean, I would have noticed him, right?" Tabby held her teacup in front of her mouth and smiled. "But he told me he knew where I sat because he was always looking down on me. He sang in the choir and he was up in the loft every Sunday. And my heart just about exploded in my chest with excitement. I mean, a choirboy? Even my mama couldn't object to that, right?"
Imogen pondered that. "Mothers can always find something to object to, but that was a definite notch in his favor, I'm sure."
"Exactly. So then, proving he hadn't been listening all that hard in church about lust and lying, he led me around the side of the shop on the pretext of picking me some scraggly wild-flowers. He asked me for my phone number and he asked me to the movies. Then he kissed me." Tabby put her hands on her cheeks. "I was so shocked, both at him, and at me for letting him. But have mercy, it felt fine. I'd shared a kiss or two with a boy before, but this was something else entirely, and I still had the taste of him on my lips when my mama pulled into the parking lot. And we've been together ever since."
"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.