"Got it." Ryder hesitated. "Thanks, Suz. You're a good friend."
"Yeah, well, you don't suck either," she said.
Ryder laughed. That was Suzanne.
IMOGEN was staring at her computer, trying to find the right wording to submit her letter of withdrawal for her thesis project when there was a pounding on her front door. She debated ignoring it but then her cell phone buzzed with a text. It was from Suzanne.
I'm at the front door. Answer it.
Sighing, Imogen went to hit Save on her document then realized she hadn't actually written anything so there was no point. Trudging to her door, she glanced down at her PJ pants. Good thing it was just Suzanne. She had been having something of a drawn-out pity party for the last two weeks and dressing hadn't been a top priority on her day off.
"Hey," she said. "How are you?"
Suzanne bustled into the living room. "Where's your remote? You have to see Ty on TV." Did she have to? "No, thanks." It was possible her wounds from their fight were finally starting to scab over, so she didn't want to tear them open to bleed again by seeing him smiling on camera at the racetrack.
"I'm not giving you a choice. You have to see this. Ty has lost his mind." Suzanne dug around on the coffee table until she found the remote and clicked the TV on. She surfed until she found the sports channel. "Come on . . . show it again."
Despite her wariness, Suzanne's agitated manner drew Imogen's attention to the screen. They were discussing football.
"Shoot, I should have recorded it."
"What?" she asked, bewildered.
"Wait! Here it is." Suzanne cranked up the volume. "Look." The sportscaster mentioned something about hot tempers at the racetrack and then Imogen gaped at her TV. Ty was wrestling on the ground with someone. She knew it was Ty on top-she'd recognize his butt anywhere-but she couldn't tell who was on the ground. "Who is that? Why are they fighting?"
"That's Evan Monroe. Ryder told me that Evan found out from Elec that you and Ty broke up, so he asked Ty if he minded if he asked you out. Obviously, Ty minded."
"You can't be serious."
"Oh, I am. He threw him down and had to be hauled off. It's all they're talking about in stock car racing.
Ty's going to get penalized some serious points for doing this. He probably just lost the championship."
"Oh, my God, that's awful!" Imogen stared at the image of the man she loved gripping Evan's shirt.
"Why would he do something so incredibly stupid and macho and . . . stupid ?"
"Because," Suzanne said triumphantly, "he is in love with you. This is jealousy, honey. The man is so cut up from your fight that he just threw his own season down the toilet." Imogen felt her cheeks start to burn at the very thought she had Ty behaving irrationally. "That's insane.
It's irresponsible. It's-"
"Hot. That's what it is," Suzanne said. "Just admit it. The fact that he's torn up and wanting to beat up guys over you has you just a little damp in the panties. I know that's how I would feel." Imogen shook her head rapidly. She shouldn't think that was hot. It was macho and ludicrous and . . .
hot. "Okay, I admit it! I want him to be upset. I want him to be jealous." She flung herself down on her sofa. "I want him to want me. This has been just horrific."
"So remember what we talked about? Go see him."
"I can't!" she wailed.
"Why not?"
Because the thought of him telling her she was uptight rolled over and over in her head like a video recording of all her worst fears. "I don't know."
Suzanne huffed in impatience. "The man just might need a friend this week as all hell breaks loose over him and his career. Maybe you should be that friend."
The thought that Ty would be hurting hurt her. Imogen suddenly knew what she needed to do. "I will. I am. I'm going to." She jumped off the couch. "Can I talk to you later? I have something I need to do."
"Hopefully it's to take a shower," Suzanne commented. "Your hair could use some help."
"Later. I have to do something else first." She knew exactly what she needed to do.
Imogen wanted to spend her life with Ty.
But before she told him that, she had a few projects to take care of.
SATURDAY blew. Sunday blew harder. Monday sucked less in comparison. Tuesday would have been a shitty day in a better week, but under the circumstances, Ty thought it wasn't half-bad. Wednesday and Thursday were a numb blur, and Friday brought relief that maybe the worst of it was over.
So maybe knocking Evan Monroe to the ground hadn't been one of his better ideas. He could admit that. He had even apologized to Evan.
But he'd had his ass chewed from one end to the other by everyone from his car owner, Carl Hinder, to his sponsor rep, to Toni, to Ryder and his own mother. He'd been issued a penalty and a fine. The money he didn't care about, but the penalty of losing points had knocked him out of running for the championship. That honor had gone to a driver who wasn't even on the Hinder Motors team, which had really upset Carl.
Ty pulled into Ryder's condo parking lot and rubbed his eyes. It had been stupid. He knew that. But what could he say? Love made a man crazy, and he was crazy in love.
Now that the week was behind him and the season officially over, he was planning to have a beer with Ryder, then he was going over to Imogen's unannounced and probably unwanted. He was going to apologize for his harsh words, then he was going to pretty much beg that she take him back.
It wasn't going to be sophisticated. It wasn't going to be attractive.
But he was a man on the edge and he wanted his woman back, no matter what it took.
He was going to throw some more Shakespeare at her. Hell, he'd quote the Bard until the cows came home if she wanted him to, and he was going to tell her that he had signed up for a private tutor to assist him with his reading skills, or lack thereof.
As he walked to Ryder's front door, he rubbed at the pain in his chest. He was getting old. He constantly had a burning sensation in his chest, like acid reflux or something, and he would kill for an antacid. He knocked on the front door but Ryder didn't answer, even though Ty could hear him talking to someone inside the condo. It was a woman, and Ty heaved a sigh. Just what he didn't want-having to make small talk with Ryder's flavor of the week.
Opening the door, he stepped inside and saw it was actually Suzanne who Ryder was talking to, which brought him some relief. He could handle Suz hanging around, since he'd known her for ten years. Plus he could potentially pump her for information about Imogen.
Suzanne and Ryder were arguing.
"He was supposed to be here!" Suzanne said in an irritated stage whisper.
"Well, what am I supposed to do about it?" Ryder asked. "I asked him over, but I can't make him show up on time."
"She's getting antsy! She said she has plans. Which scares me because she's been shut up in her apartment all week. I'm afraid she's going to do something drastic."
"Like what?"
"Dye her hair blond or something scary like that."
"Oh, damn, that would be bad."
Ty started down the hall. "Who is dying her hair blond?"
Suzanne squawked and put her hand to her heart. "Jesus, you scared me." Then she frowned. "It's about time you got here. I've had a hell of a time keeping Imogen here for no apparent reason whatsoever."
"Imogen is here?" Ty's heart rate kicked up a notch, and even as his palms grew sweaty, he was relieved. He wanted to fix this, the sooner, the better.
"Well, duh. Of course she is. That's why Ryder invited you over, so we could force you two to be in the same room and work this out because you're driving us insane."
"Shouldn't we act like it's a coincidence that they're both here?" Ryder asked.
"Wait a minute." Ty just realized what Suzanne had said now that he knew who they were talking about.
"Imogen is going to dye her hair blond?"
"Probably."
" No. No, no, no. You can't let her do that. She looks perfect the way she is." The very thought of her ruining that lush brown hair with bleach made him downright sick to his stomach.
"So go in there and tell her. She's in Ryder's living room listening to her iPod-" Ty stopped listening to her as he moved toward the living room, trying to figure out what he should say.
The words were jumbling in his head, how he wanted to tell her he was sorry, that he loved her, that he wanted to spend his life making her happy. He paused for a moment in front of her just to drink in the sight of her sitting on the couch.