Hard and Fast(47)

"She felt sick, so she left early."

"Oh, does Elec know? I imagine he'd want to collect the kids."

"I doubt it. She looked like she was going to throw up, so it's unlikely she's had a chance to call him."

"I'll get someone on tracking him down. You want to wait here, then?"

"Sure."

Imogen gathered Hunter, who was bouncing and jumping and chattering a mile a minute, and Pete, who looked profoundly bored.

"Are we going back to the coach?" he asked. "I'm hungry."

"We're going to wait for your stepdad, and he'll take you back. I'm sure he'll feed you."

"Ice cream!" Hunter declared, her arms shooting up in the air. "So when are you and Ty getting married?"

"I don't know. We haven't talked about that yet."

"My mom and Elec got married and now he sleeps in her bed with her. I  think that would suck. When I get married, my husband is going to have  to have his own room." Imogen almost laughed. "You might change your  mind about that at some point. Presumably if you marry him, you'll like  him enough to want to spend a lot of time with him."                       
       
           



       

"I don't know." Hunter looked doubtful. "It seems silly to me to stuff  two people in one bed together." The very thought of that, settling into  sleep every night with Ty beside her, waking up to his cheerful chatter  and big warm hands, made her deeply, profoundly happy. "Maybe it is  silly, but when you love someone, you want to cuddle."







Hunter looked ready to refute that when she spotted her stepfather striding toward them.

"Hey, squirt, what's up?" he asked.

"Good race," she told him as he picked her up and settled her on his hip, her long legs dangling.

"Thanks, baby girl. You guys ready to go? Ty told me Mom is sick. We should head back and check up on her."

"Can we eat?" Pete asked.

"Most likely I'll let you eat at some point," Elec said, ruffling Pete's hair. "You're a bottomless pit."

"Yep." Pete grinned.

Elec looked at Imogen. "Thanks for watching them. I really appreciate it."

"No problem. We had fun watching the race."

"And I hear congratulations are in order." Elec grinned. "Ty popping the question is all anyone's talking about."

She felt her cheeks heat. "Thanks."

"We'll catch you later, then," he said, and headed off with the kids.

Imogen's phone rang and she stepped a little farther back from the media zone to answer it. It was Suzanne. "Hello?"

"What the fuck!" was her friend's reaction. "I'm watching the race on TV  and then Ty drops and asks you to marry him and I'm like Oh. My. God.  Did you know?"

"No! I had no clue."

"That little devil, who knew he had a romantic bone in his body. Well, are you happy? Are you shitting bricks?"

"Both." Imogen laughed.

Suzanne laughed with her. "No kidding. My God, your proposal was just  witnessed by, like, a million viewers. I say you stick him for the  biggest rock ever for not warning you ahead of time." Imogen tugged on  her sweatshirt strings. "A million viewers? You are exaggerating,  right?" She couldn't even imagine what her face had looked like. Her  hair was in a ponytail. No makeup. And she was wearing a sweatshirt,  which she never did. Yikes.

"Um, no, not really. It's a popular sport. But you looked cute, I swear.  Just a little stunned. But when you said yes, I think there was a  collective sigh across America."

" Stunned is the word for it. I am still in total shock."

"Well, yeah, hello. It's really soon." Suzanne paused and her voice softened. "Are you happy? Is this what you want?"

"Yes, it is." It was. She knew that without a shadow of a doubt.

"Does he make you so happy your face could crack? Do you want to make  babies with him?" The thought of having children with Ty had never  occurred to her either. Now the image of little grinning shaggy-haired  kids with personalities a lot like Hunter's popped into her head and  wouldn't shake loose.

"Yes, and yes."

"Then congratulations, sweetheart. And guess who is going to be your  wedding planner?" Imogen laughed. "That would be awesome, Suz. I know  you'll do an amazing job, and I swear I won't request naked monkeys on  my cake."

"You freaking better not. Not that I would let you anyway. And no racing paraphernalia, please."

"I would love a destination wedding, actually." Though she supposed it  would need to be discussed with Ty. It's not like she had any clue what  his vision for a wedding was.

"Now you're talking, sister."

Her call waiting beeped and she pulled her phone back to check it. "Oh,  Suz, it's my mom on the other line. Can I call you later?"

"Sure, sweetie."

"Thanks, bye." Imogen clicked over and said, "Hello," her heart pounding.

"Okay, you know I don't follow sports on television," her mother said by  way of greeting. "But you know Mr. and Mrs. Hanson do and now that he's  retired, he DVRs everything. He just called me to tell me that he saw  you at a stock car race where some man was proposing to you. I assumed  it couldn't be





accurate but then he played it back for me, and Imogen Ann, I swear it  looked exactly like you. In fact, it seemed like this person even used  your name when he proposed, but then I thought that can't possibly be  real because how is it that your mother doesn't even know you are dating  someone, let alone that you were on the verge of engagement?"

You had to love the power of electronics and instant communication.  Imogen bit her lip. "Well, it was me, Mom. And as I'm sure you can see  from the playback, I was very surprised. I had no idea I was on the  verge of engagement myself or obviously I would have mentioned that  fact."                       
       
           



       

"So you are telling me that you are engaged? To a race car driver?"

"Yes." Imogen held her breath, waiting for the backlash.

But her mother, who was controlled and never particularly excitable,  actually shrieked, startling Imogen so badly she almost dropped the  phone. Her mother never yelled. Never. Not in joy. Not in irritation.

Not ever.

"Oh, my God!" her mother said. "Jonathon, our baby is getting married!" she called to Imogen's father.

"We have a wedding to plan! And who is this man? Shame on you for not  telling me about him." Before Imogen could answer, her mother continued,  "Oh, no! I guess this means you'll be permanently relocating to  Charlotte. Oh, Imogen, I thought you would come home." So had she. The  realization that she wouldn't stunned her a little. Was she really  moving to Charlotte forever?

Obviously she was if she was going to be married to Ty.

Wow. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Mom, it's not a big deal. Ty travels a lot so I'm sure I'll be able to  pop up to New York frequently and visit when he's busy on the road."

"I saw his name was Ty on the television. What is that short for? Is it a  family name? Are you going to hyphenate your last name, keep yours, or  take his? I can't say that I really care for the sound of Imogen  McCordle."

Neither did she, now that her mother mentioned it. It was not a pretty  name at all, something she had never considered. Not that it mattered.  His last name could be Weed and she would still marry him. But would she  take his name? She supposed she could be Imogen Wilson-McCordle. That  had a scholarly ring to it. "I hadn't thought about what to do to my  name. Probably hyphenate."

"If you think that's best. So what is Ty short for?"

She didn't know. She had no idea. They had never discussed it. Like many other things, it seemed.

"Mom, can I call you later? Ty is finishing up with the media and I would like to get some dinner. Give my love to Dad."

"Oh." Her mother sounded nonplussed. "Yes, call me tonight or tomorrow. I  want to know when you're bringing Ty home to meet us, and I want your  uncle Steven to show you the ballroom at his hotel. You are getting  married in Manhattan, aren't you?"

Feeling like she might actually panic, Imogen said, "Mom? Mom, I can't  hear you. I think we have a bad connection. I'll call you la-"

She cut her own words off by hanging up her cell phone. Giving a sigh of  relief, she tried to swallow the guilt. She hated to lie. She was  terrible at it. She always confessed. But her mother had been having a  severely negative effect on her anxiety levels.

Why did everyone assume once you got engaged you had to have the wedding  planned three minutes later? She couldn't think that far ahead; she  just wanted to bask for a day or two or six months.