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.”