IMOGEN figured she was the one who should be embarrassed given the way she had just blurted out that Ty should take her to bed, but as they drove back to his place, he was the one who was rambling, indicating that he was nervous and felt the need to fill the silent void with inane conversation. She had never been one to babble when she was nervous, leaning more toward retreating into that silence, but a lot of people had their anxious energy burst forth in rapid speech, and clearly Ty was one of them.

“Do you like football?” he asked her, then shook his head. “Of course you don’t like football. What the hell am I talking about? Nothing about you says pigskin. And I mean that in the best way. Though it would be very cool if you were smart, beautiful, and liked sports. But somehow I can’t ever see you throwing on a jersey and cursing at the referee. What about camping?”

It intrigued her to think that he might be invested enough in the outcome of what they were about to do to actually be nervous, and she tried to follow his rapid conversation.

“Camping? What about it?”

“Do you like it?”

“I’ve never been camping.”

“You’ve never been camping?” Ty sounded shocked, like she had confessed to being a twenty-eight-year-old virgin. “Not even as a kid?”

That amused Imogen. “No. I grew up on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. My mother runs an art gallery and my father is an investment banker. When they wanted to escape the city, we went to the Hamptons and stayed in my grandparents’ beach house. Aside from those trips to the beach, the closest I ever got to nature was watering the potted plants on the terrace of our apartment.”

“Wow, I never thought about it, but yeah, I guess why would you go camping? I should take you, you’ll love it.”

Imogen felt a fair amount of alarm. “No, no, you don’t need to do that. I suspect I actually won’t like it at all. I don’t feel like my life is lacking because I haven’t been camping. I mean, I’ve walked in Central Park hundreds of times and that’s very bucolic.”

Ty scoffed. “That is not the same as going deep into the woods, lying down on a sleeping bag, and listening to nothing but the sounds of nature.”

“I’m a sociologist, not a botanist.” Plants were green, end of story. She didn’t feel the need to submerge herself in them.

He cut her a look that told her he wasn’t amused. “No arguments, I’m taking you. This is the stubborn Taurus talking.”

That irritated her in return. “You can’t make me go. And we’re not even supposed to be dating.”

Now he really shot her a look that told her he did not appreciate that little reminder. “Okay, here’s the deal. Everyone should be open to new experiences, right? So you agree to go camping, and I’ll agree to do something you want me to try. You can drag me to an art gallery or something, whatever you want.”