Ty laughed and said, “I think you’re the one getting screwed. Screwed over.”
Ryder felt a wave of anger roll over him.
It was becoming more and more clear to him that he and Suzanne had some unfinished business.
But he wasn’t going to deal with that now. He had a meeting to attend. So he told Ty in total irritation, “Suck my dick.”
Which only made Ty laugh all that much harder.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IMOGEN smiled across the table at Tabby Stephenson, an attractive woman in her midthirties who had been married to driver Jack Stephenson for the past seventeen years.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to be interviewed,” Imogen said, glad she had chosen to meet Tabby in the quaint tearoom. It seemed like the appropriate place to discuss dating and marriage.
“Oh, are you kidding? What woman doesn’t like to tell the story of how she met her husband?”
“One who isn’t happily married.”
Tabby laughed. “True enough. But I have been about as happy with Jack as a woman can expect to be, so I’m happy to tell you whatever you’re willing to listen to.” Tabby tucked her honey-colored hair behind an ear. “Jack will love this, by the way.”
“Good. I certainly appreciate you both being so agreeable. So to start off, just tell me how you met Jack. Was it by chance or did you have your eye on him? Was he already racing professionally?”
“Not at all. I was only fourteen when I met Jack. He was sixteen and a total hell-raiser. We didn’t go to the same school because I was in the eighth grade and he was a sophomore in high school, but I met him at the ice cream shop after church one Sunday. My older sister and I were allowed to walk up there by ourselves for a cone, and that’s where I saw him, drinking a shake and showing off the engine of his stock car to his buddies. Honey, I took one look at that backside in those worn Levi’s and the whole boy-girl thing clicked for me. I’d never looked twice at a boy before that, but between those jeans, his devilish grin, and that deep, sexy laugh, I was just gone.”
Imogen watched Tabby sighing at the memory and she smiled.
“ ’Course, he didn’t notice me at all. I was still in middle school and I had zero fashion sense. I was wearing a denim skirt that damn near hit the ground since I’d just come from church. I was so fascinated by him, so upset that he wouldn’t look at me, that I didn’t even finish my ice cream cone.”
Imogen remembered that feeling herself, that longing, that moody, desperate need for a boy to notice you when you were fourteen. Not a pleasant thing. Of course, she hadn’t really enjoyed the twenty-eight-year-old version of it either as she had lusted after Ty for months.
“I wanted to hang around until Jack left so I made up an excuse about having to use the bathroom. Told my sister I was having intestinal issues and might be a while.” Tabby grinned. “Cindy was always impatient so she left me and walked home by herself. She got chewed out for leaving me there, and for walking alone. But anyway, once I was rid of her, I ordered a soda and tried to figure out how to talk to him, but in the end, after thirty minutes, I couldn’t work up the courage, so I headed across the parking lot to walk home. This creepy guy in his thirties called out and offered me a ride, and I was freaking out. I lived in a small town in Alabama and my mother had warned me all about crazies who would molest and rape a girl and ruin her life if he didn’t beat her to death or set her on fire or something sick like that.” Tabby shook her head and gave Imogen a rueful look. “Putting the fear of God into us worked, but I can’t help but think there was a better way to do it than letting us believe we’d be barbequed if we talked to strangers.”
“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.”