Authors: Erin McCarthy
Tags: #Man-Woman Relationships, #General, #Romance, #Erotica, #Fiction, #Contemporary, #Stock Car Drivers, #Women Sociology Students, #Stock Car Racing
Hard and Fast (34 page)
So Imogen hadn’t known they’d been set up either. “Can . . . can I talk to you, Emma Jean? Somewhere private?”
He’d been afraid she would say no, but she just nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”
“You want to sit in my car with me?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Standing up, she grabbed her purse and followed him. Once they were both in his car, staring at each other, Ty lost all his nervousness, all the reserve. This was his Emma Jean, and they were supposed to be together.
“Goddamn, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I said terrible things and I have no excuse. I was overly sensitive about my dyslexia, and I turned it around and criticized you and that was so wrong of me. I’m really sorry . . . Can you ever forgive me, Engine? I’m just miserable without you.”
Tears rose in Imogen’s eyes. “Oh, Ty, of course I can. I’m sorry, too. I was totally insensitive. I was just so scared thinking about how illogical it was to have fallen in love so quickly, two totally opposite personalities. But I should have just trusted my feelings, trusted you.”
Oh, thank God. Relief washed over him, just about making him dizzy. He leaned closer to her, wanting to touch her, taste her, but she pulled a CD out of her purse and shoved it at him.
“What’s this?” He took it from her and saw there was no label, not that he could read it if there were, but it was clearly something she had burned herself.
“It’s a compilation I put together. You just put it in your computer and you can listen to it.”
“Compilation of what?” he asked, puzzled.
“Kenny Chesney and the intro to my book.”
That made him smile. “Kenny Chesney, huh?”
“Yeah, singing about how he won’t be eating or sleeping until she’s back in his arms. That’s how I’ve felt these last few weeks . . . I’ve missed you so much.” Her voice cracked, and Ty reached over and brushed his hand over her cheek.
“I’ve missed you, too, babe. God, so much. And what’s this about your book? What book?”
“I formally withdrew my thesis. It wasn’t working and I need to reassess and regroup. But I have so many fabulous interviews with drivers and their wives about falling in love and their marriages, so I’m putting them all together in one volume. Sort of a true love on the stock car circuit kind of book. I’m hoping a publisher will want to buy it.”
“Wow, that’s a great idea. I’m so proud of you for putting all that hard work to good use. I think people would love reading those stories. Everyone loves hearing about a happy ending.”
“Thanks.” She smiled softly. “And I recorded myself reading the intro so you can hear it privately, without asking Toni to do it.”
That gave him pause. “Why? What’s in the intro?”
“It’s my story of how I fell in love with the driver of the number sixty car when I was least expecting it.”
Ty’s throat tightened up. “I hope you mention how that driver fell right back in love with you. And by the way, I got myself a tutor. I’m going to learn to read. Or try to, anyways. No guarantee I’ll be successful at it.”
“That’s fantastic,” she said. “I’m proud of you, and I think you’ll be pleased with how even a little bit of progress will make your life easier. And hey, you’re tenacious, remember?”
“And you’re adorable and brilliant and honest and loyal and loving and sexy as hell, and I am the luckiest man alive.”
Imogen laughed. “Either that or you’re delusional.”
“Nope.” He leaned over and kissed her, savoring the taste of her lips. He had missed her so damn much, and now that he had her back, he was never going to let her go. Pulling back, he popped open the glove box and pulled out the case holding his grandmother’s ring.
Imogen sighed as she watched Ty fussing around in the glove box. She didn’t know what he was doing, nor did she care. They were back together, and all was right with the world. Then she suddenly realized what he had in his hand, and she did care.
“Oh, Ty,” she said, tears flooding her eyes.
“Will you marry me?” he asked, holding up a white gold princess cut diamond with a crusted band. “It’s not some fifty-thousand-dollar yellow diamond or anything, but this was my grandmother’s and it meant a lot to her. If it’s too old-fashioned, we can get another one, but I wanted to have something in my hand when I—”
Imogen put her hand over his mouth. “Shh. It’s perfect. I love it,” she managed to choke out. “And yes, I will marry you.”
He grinned and gave her a kiss that made her hair and her toes curl and everything in between go hot and damp.
“So I think we should go camping for our honeymoon,” she whispered between kisses, burying her hands into his hair.
“Hell, we should just honeymoon in the car. This is where all our deep conversations take place.”
Imogen laughed. “We’ve never had sex in the car, though.”
Ty glanced into the backseat. “Let’s go for it.”
“We’re in the parking lot of Ryder’s condo complex.”
“Details.” Ty kissed the corner of her mouth, her jaw, her ear. “Okay, fine, we’ll go to my place as soon as I finish kissing you.”
“So you agree that we should honeymoon at Lake Norman?”
“I don’t care where we get married or where we have our honeymoon or where we live. The only thing I care about is that we have Shakespeare involved.”
“Well, he can’t be there since he’s dead,” Imogen said, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of his lips on her neck.
“True, but we can have his words and I have the perfect ones. Maybe we can put them on the invitations or something.”
“What words?” Imogen asked, her nipples tightening and desire pooling between her thighs. She had missed him so much.
Ty pulled back and met her gaze, his rich brown eyes dark with emotion. When he spoke, it was in a soft, husky voice.
“‘No sooner met but they looked; no sooner looked but they loved; no sooner loved but they sighed; no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage . . .’ ”
Oh, my.
Imogen tried to remember to breathe and told the man she loved, “Get in the backseat.”
His eyebrow shot up. “For real?”
“Oh, yes.” She kicked off her flats and ditched her purse on the floor. “I am very serious.”
Ty grinned. “That’s kind of impulsive.”
“Yes, it is.” And she was okay with that.
“Alright, then.”
Ty climbed into the backseat, Imogen followed, and they spent a hard and fast five minutes taking the edge off how much they had missed each other. Once they caught their breath, Imogen still on his lap, her jeans around her knees, Ty holding on to her waist, he said, “I don’t think we can put
that
on the invitations.”
that
on the invitations.”
Imogen laughed. “Probably not. Let’s stick with Will.”
“I’m sticking with you.”
That worked for her.
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