Hard and Fast(30)

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.

Ty was so busy checking out her place, he didn't notice the tiny backpack she was reaching for in the doorway of her room.

"That's it. I can carry it." She lifted it up one-handed and slung it  over her shoulder, which indicated to him it wasn't all that heavy.

Eyeing it dubiously, he said, "Okay, then. Guess we're all set." In his  entire life he had never met a woman who could pack everything she  needed for an overnight camping trip in a backpack. But then again, he  was familiar with Southern women, who wanted to be prepared for anything  at all times.

Imogen was from New York. They lived in tiny apartments, they walked all  over the place. Chances were she had learned to streamline, to take  only what she needed.







Ty's mother had been known to pull pedicure kits out of her camping gear  in case anyone had tired feet or a blister after a day of hiking. And  the food supplies had nearly flattened the tires on the family station  wagon when he'd been a kid and they'd headed out on road trips. His  father had never discouraged her and, in fact, had been grateful a time  or two when his mother had whipped something totally improbable out of  her purse, like a sugar packet or a whole bottle of antacids.

Imogen's backpack was mildly unnerving, but he didn't want to call her  out on it and make her feel like she had done something wrong.

But he did feel compelled to ask, "Do you have boots in there?" She'd  slip and break her neck if she tried to hike in those little shoes.

"Yep." She patted the bag with her free hand.

"Okay, good. Let's pump you full of caffeine and hit the road." It was  only thirty miles to Lake Norman, but it took almost every one of them  and a large black coffee before Imogen appeared to wake up. For most of  the drive, she rested her head on the window with her eyes closed and Ty  listened to the radio and stole glances at her, feeling a little  foolish. She was so damn pretty and he was experiencing the weirdest  sensation every time he looked at her, a sort of bizarre tenderness that  he didn't really understand. He'd never dated a woman like her, and he  felt almost unsure of himself, like he'd fallen back about a decade and  was an eager twenty-year-old desperate to impress a girl.

It wasn't a comfortable place to sit, and the silence wasn't helping.

He was grateful when she sat up and yawned and said, "Sorry. I'm not much of a morning person."

"I kind of caught on to that. Maybe I shouldn't have hauled you out of bed so early."

"It's okay." She drained the remains of her coffee. "I'm good now. Are we almost there?"

"Pulling in right now."

"It's very beautiful," she said, looking out the window at the huge  canopy of trees on either side of the winding road. "Very green."

That almost made Ty laugh, but he held it in. "There's a deer family to the right." He pointed to them.

Imogen started. "Wow. They're big. And close to the road." She shot him a  wary look. "What other kinds of animals are there here?"

"Squirrel, deer, opossums, rabbit, foxes, maybe coyotes. Nothing out of  the ordinary. Nothing dangerous." He wasn't going to mention that  occasionally a venomous cottonhead snake was spotted.

"Coyotes? That sounds dangerous."

"Nah. They run as soon as they see you." Ty made a mental note never to  leave Imogen alone for the next twenty-four hours. In all his years  tromping through the Lake Norman State Park, he'd never seen a coyote,  and with his luck, Imogen would have a whole pack tear past her and he'd  never get her back in the woods.                       
       
           



       

That thought gave him pause. Did he want to get her back in the woods?  He'd reserve opinion on that until they were on their way out of the  park instead of the way in, but he suspected the answer might be yes.

"Alright, we're looking for a sign for a turnoff called Camp Lane. How  original is that? If you spot it, give a yell." Ty had been to the site  before, but it had been a couple of years, and he knew he couldn't find  the turnoff on his own. He also suspected he wouldn't be able to  decipher the sign, so he'd put Imogen on the task.

"Okay. So what does one do exactly while camping?" she asked, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

Ty grinned at her. "We're going to go hiking. Swimming. Fishing. And  we're going to make love in a sleeping bag. Or maybe on the sleeping  bag. Depends how impatient we are to get to it. Does all that sound  alright with you?"

"I think I can handle that," she said briskly, pushing her glasses up her nose.

"Good." He was bemused by her. "And you're being very polite not to ask,  but I want to reassure you that I did read Much Ado About Nothing ." In  a roundabout sort of way. "So I upheld my end of the bargain. I'm not  sure I could write a term paper on it, but I think I can have a  reasonable discussion with you about it."







She smiled for the first time since he had picked her up. "Thank you. Did you like it?"

"Yeah, I did." He had to admit, it was an entertaining story. "I was  right about Beatrice, you know. Total man hater. And she's ticked at  herself for what she perceives as her own personal weakness for falling  in love with Benedick."

"That's true. She certainly fights the feeling."

"What's so wrong with falling in love anyway? I always imagined it was  kind of a good feeling. There wouldn't be damn near as many songs,  books, and movies about it if it wasn't."

"I think Beatrice sees love and passion as a way in which a woman turns  over control of herself and her love to a man, not a desirable thing in a  time period in which women were essentially the property of their  husbands."

"That's understandable. But fear almost causes her to spend her life  bitter and alone rather than take a chance on happiness with a man.  Sometimes you have to take a risk, not knowing exactly how it's going to  turn out."

"Oh, there's the road we need," Imogen said, pointing to her right. "Camp Lane. And I don't think I'm much of a risk taker."

"Cool." Ty pulled into a gravel parking lot and stopped the car. "No? You're not a risk taker? I think I probably am."

"Since you risk your life every Sunday, I would say so, yes." Ty  shrugged. "I don't see racing that way. Sure, you can wreck, but given  all the thousands of times we all drive on a track, serious accidents  don't happen all that often. You're probably more at risk of an injury  in an accident in that piece of crap you call a car than I am in my  safety-first stock car."

"Maybe you're right." Imogen ran her finger along her bottom lip. "Do  you think there are personality types that are truly incompatible? Like  can a cautious person and a risk taker actually tolerate each other long  term? Or a highly sexual person live with someone who has a low  libido?"