Motorcycle Man

Chapter Eleven You Forget Somethin’?

I woke and felt the morning, bright Colorado sunshine on my eyelids. I rolled to my back and opened my eyes. Then I rolled to my other side and smelled musk and man.

Tack.

I breathed deep.

Mm. Nice.

I blinked and saw my alarm clock said it was ten to nine and I stared.

Ten to nine!

Damn! I was supposed to be at work an hour ago!

I threw the covers back and scrambled out of bed. My feet hit the ground running but I tripped and went flying, righting myself just before I took a header. I looked back to see what I’d tripped on and it was Tack’s boots.

Then I stared at Tack’s boots beside my bed, liking the sight of them lying there just like I liked the smell of him on my sheets.

Holy hell.

I scurried to the door, threw it open and was going to head to the bathroom but I heard the murmur of voices coming from the kitchen and stopped. I looked to Lanie’s door and saw it was open. Something weird seeped into me, I stopped rushing and walked slowly toward the living room, rounded the wall and moved just into the kitchen.

My kitchen was long and narrow, running the length of the house. At the front of it was the dining area, the bulk of the kitchen was beyond a short bar with two barstools in front of it. One of those barstools held Lanie’s firm, slim ass, her body encased in a shimmery, short silk kimono-style robe complete with beautiful embroidery on the back most of which you couldn’t see because her gleaming, thick dark hair was flowing down her back. Across the bar from her was Tack, wearing his gray tee from the day before and his jeans. They both held coffee mugs. Lanie was in profile and she’d not twenty-four hours ago found out her beloved fiancé was the kind of guy who would track down a biker in a failed attempt to have someone whacked. Not to mention, she hated Tack and wanted me to quit my job so I’d never see him again. But I still saw they both were smiling so big it looked like they’d just stopped laughing.

Something in my heart spasmed at this sight. Lanie was my friend and she had been for fifteen years. I knew she was beautiful, I’d been walking at her side or sitting on a barstool next to her or at a table with her enough times to notice the appreciating glances, see the drinks sent her way, watch the men slide in beside her but that was the way of the world. Beautiful women got attention. And she was my Lanie, I was happy for her that she did.

But two weeks ago I watched Tack making out with a gorgeous, slim brunette and now he was laughing in my kitchen with one. And even though she was my friend who I knew wouldn’t go there, whether or not Elliott was in or just dumped on his ass out of the picture, I didn’t like it.

And I didn’t like that I didn’t like it.

Holy hell, now I was getting multiple personalities.

Tack’s eyes went from Lanie to me, his smile stayed in place and his chin tipped up. “Mornin’, babe.”

Lanie spun on her barstool toward me. “Hey, Ty-Ty.”

“Hey,” I muttered, walking in directly to Lanie. I got close and slid her hair off her shoulder. “You okay this morning?”

“No,” she answered, her eyes slid to Tack, she smiled beautifully at him, her innate elegance radiating from every pore, even makeup-less, in a kimono and with slightly puffy eyes from the crying jag yesterday. Then she looked back to me and stated, “But Tack’s pancakes go a long way to soothe the ravaged soul of a woman who just found out her fiancé is whacked.”

Tack chuckled. I looked down at my bar to see a plate that once held something covered with maple syrup.

Tack had made Lanie pancakes.

I didn’t like that either.

“You want pancakes, Red?” Tack asked and I looked up at him thinking he looked good in my kitchen. Really good. And also thinking he looked like he belonged in it with Lanie.

Damn.

“Nope,” I murmured, giving Lanie a bump with my body and heading around the bar to the coffeepot. “I need coffee and to jump in the shower. I’m late for work.”

I stopped in front of the coffeemaker, grabbed a mug and was in the process of dropping my arm when I suddenly found myself pressed to the counter and what was pressing me was Tack’s long, hard body.

His arms curved around my ribs then I felt his goatee rough against my neck as his chin shifted my hair aside then his face was in my neck.

“You forget somethin’?” His gravelly voice rumbled in a murmur against my skin.

“Yeah, to turn on my alarm,” I answered, my body still as a statue but every inch of my skin was tingling.

“No you didn’t. I turned it off.”

“You did?” I asked the cupboard.

“You’re off today, seein’ to your friend. Boss’s orders.”

“Tack –”

His arms gave me a squeeze and his goatee tickled my ear when his lips lifted there. “You forgot something,” he whispered.

I turned my head and his came up as I did. When I caught his eyes I asked, “I did?”

“Yeah.”

I was confused, freaked out about my weird response to Tack and Lanie laughing and maybe still a little asleep so my brows drew together.

“What’d I forget?”

One of his arms left my middle and cupped the side of my head.

“This,” he muttered then his mouth was on mine.

It wasn’t a morning mouth touch. It was a kiss, a serious kiss. So serious, his body moved back, turned mine to face him then it moved in again, pressing me into the counter. His hand cupping the side of my head slid into my hair to cup the back and hold me to him as his other arm locked tight around my waist, plastering me to his body.

It was such a serious kiss, and such a great kiss, I totally forgot Lanie was there, my confusion, weird response to Tack spending time with Lanie and the sleep that lingered and my arms moved to wrap around his shoulders. I went up on my toes and I went at it right along with Tack. Maybe more. I was off guard plus I loved how he tasted and I was hungry for it. So without the barest thought about anything but Tack, his tongue and his mouth, I drank deep.

Tack broke the kiss but he didn’t take his mouth away when he whispered against my lips, “Jesus fuck, Red, you can use that sweet mouth,” and his arm around me squeezed tight on the word “fuck”.

I gazed up at him in a haze thinking he could use his mouth too, thinking a lot more than my skin was tingling and also thinking I wasn’t quite done with his mouth when I heard Lanie clear her throat.

I blinked and the haze cleared.

“Ohmigod,” I whispered against Tack’s mouth and watched up close as the lines beside his eyes deepened in a smile.

This would have been fascinating but I was belatedly mortified and therefore I pulled quickly out of Tack’s arms and stepped to the side, my gaze finding my best friend.

“God, Lanie, sorry, I –”

“Don’t mind me,” she said, her mouth smiling but there was pain in her eyes. “I remember what it was like in the first throes of meeting someone. I remember it because it was a lot like what I still had with Elliott just the night before last.” She stopped talking, the smile faltered and her eyes got bright.

Oh no. I’d seen that look a lot last night. She was going to blow.

“Damn,” I muttered and Tack’s arm circled my chest from behind pulling me to him which was the wrong, wrong, wrong thing to do because Lanie’s eyes dropped to his arm. Her lips quivered and then she burst out sobbing, twisting a bit so she wouldn’t face plant in her maple syrup plate, she face planted in her arm on the counter but her hair went into her maple syrup plate.

“I think the pancakes wore off,” Tack muttered in my ear.

I yanked free of Tack’s arms, whirled and glared at him.

His eyes caught mine but my eyes caught his mouth twitch before he asked, “What?”

I slapped his arm, lifted up on my toes to get in his face and hissed, “You don’t make out like that in front of newly broken up people! In fact, you don’t make out like that in front of anyone.”

His face moved to within an inch of mine and he whispered, “Wrong, baby, I do. I make out wherever the fuck I want which means you do too.”

I squinted my eyes at him, whirled back around and ran to Lanie.

I put my hand on her back and carefully extricated her hair from the maple syrup.

“Honey,” I whispered, “you got your hair in the syrup.”

She sat back abruptly and looked to the ceiling, crying out, “I don’t care! Who cares! I can shampoo with maple syrup. There’s no one to care!” Then she flopped back down on the counter and I had just enough time to grab the plate and get it out of range.

I lifted my eyes to Tack and skewered him with a look at the same time I held the plate up and jerked it at him. He sauntered to me and took the plate while I pulled Lanie off her chair.

“Let’s get you into the shower,” I murmured to her.

“No shower. No work. No nothing. I’m going to eat Tack’s pancakes until I weigh nine hundred pounds and die and they’ll have to cut around your door to get my carcass out of your house.”

I so totally told you that when Lanie let a drama rip, watch out.

“You’ll feel better after a shower,” I told her, guiding her out of the kitchen.

“I’ll never feel better, Ty-Ty,” she told me and I sighed. Then I guided her to her bedroom. I dashed to the bathroom and did my business quickly. After I was done, I went back to her bedroom and guided her with her toiletries and clothes stuffed in her arms into the bathroom. As I was doing this last, I heard the knock on my front door. I focused on Lanie and got her situated and as I was exiting the bathroom to see who on earth was at the door, I saw Tack was there before me.

“Hey, Tyra!” Tabby called chirpily.

“Yo, Tyra,” Rush called after her.

I stood in the hall outside my bathroom in my drawstring pajama shorts and camisole with my wild bed hair staring at Tack and his kids in my living room and heard the bathroom door click behind me.

“Uh… hey,” I called, stunned.

“Dad texted, said it was an impromptu Allen Pancake Morning so we came right over,” Tabby stated.

“Nothin’ better, not even his fajitas,” Rush put in.

“Babe, get your ass in the kitchen so I can feed you and my kids and get on the road,” Tack ordered while sauntering toward my kitchen.

His kids followed.

I stood in the hall and stared. Then I blinked. Then I stared some more. Then my body came unstuck and I motored into the kitchen to find Tack at the stove, Rush on Lanie’s barstool and Tabby’s head in the fridge.

I went direct to Tack and got close to his side seeing he was pouring perfect, silver dollar pancakes on my griddle.

“Can I talk to you?” I asked quietly.

His head turned and he looked down at me.

“Yeah,” he answered but otherwise didn’t move.

“Elsewhere,” I defined my request.

“Then… no,” he said through a grin.

I opened my mouth to make my request sound more like a demand when a loud banging came at my door. It was so loud, my body jerked in surprise and Tack’s head whipped around.

“What the fu –?” he started to mutter when we heard, “Open this motherfucking door!”

Ohmigod! It was Naomi.

More loud banging, so loud and violet I was uncertain my door could withstand it and I wondered if some of it was kicking then, “I know you’re all in there! I saw you go in there! Open this goddamned motherfucking door!”

Through this, Tack crashed down my fabulous, pink, Williams Sonoma mixing bowl with the little pouring thing-a-ma-jig in the lip, shoved the griddle off the burner, turned and stalked out of my kitchen.

Oh boy.

I hurried after him and I felt Rush and Tabby at my heels but we weren’t fast enough. Tack had the door open and he was standing in it. My body stuttered to a stunned halt when I saw Tack’s torso rock back because Naomi shoved a hand violently in his shoulder to push in. She took three steps in, turned to me, Rush and Tabby and I fancied I saw her head split right down the middle and fire pour out, such was her fury.

“You stupid, skank, whore!” she shrieked then came right at me.

I braced and she made an “oof” noise and bent double at the middle when Tack caught her at the waist and pulled her back at the same time Rush’s arm went around my waist (a fair bit more gently, I might add), and he pulled me behind him.

Tack positioned himself between Naomi and me and planted a hand in her chest.

“Have you lost your fuckin’ mind?” he growled.

“Get out to your car!” she screeched at Tabby.

Tack was shoving her toward the door and she was fighting it but losing.

“Get the fuck outta here.” He was still growling, his voice low, deep, the gravel had turned to ice shards and it wasn’t directed at me but I still felt my skin rise in goose bumps.

“You do not spend time in that fuckin’ bitch’s home!” Naomi screamed, again, for some reason, at Tabby.

“Oh God,” Tabby whispered and her words were not filled with ice. They were filled with embarrassment.

Naomi landed against the door, Tack’s hand still pressed into her chest and his face got into hers.

“You follow them here?” he asked, his voice still scary.

“Fuck you!” she shouted in his face.

“You follow the kids here?” Tack barked in hers.

“They are not spendin’ time with your latest piece of tail!” she yelled.

“You’re tellin’ me you slunk out to your fuckin’ car and followed your kids to my woman’s house,” Tack stated.

His woman? When did I become Tack’s woman?

“Tabby’s already part-slut, spendin’ time around you and all your bitches. She don’t need to learn the high-class, fancy-ass way to spread her legs,” Naomi fired back.

I gasped, Rush made a noise like a growl and Tabby whimpered.

Automatically, my arm stretched back, searching blindly until I found it and then I wrapped my hand around Tabby’s, held it tight and moved back until the back of my side touched the front of hers. The minute it did, Tabby’s hand closed around mine like a vice.

“Did I just hear you?” Tack said in a soft, dangerous voice.

“You heard me, asshole,” Naomi snapped.

“You’re tellin’ me I just heard you,” Tack gave her another opportunity to stand down.

“You heard me,” she clipped.

Another knock came at the door at the exact same time Lanie made her appearance.

“What on earth is going on?” she asked from the mouth of the hall wearing her shimmery, fabulous, short kimono, a towel wrapped around her head, her beautiful face and perfect bone structure no less beautiful with my pale pink terrycloth towel framing it.

Naomi looked around Tack at Lanie then back at Tack and she shrieked, “Fuck me, you buildin’ a harem?”

Another knock at the door.

Tack’s hand wrapped around Naomi’s arm and he yanked her from the door. Stepping back, he threw it open.

I peered outside and stared in shock at my favorite aunt, Bette, and favorite uncle, Marshall, who didn’t live in Denver. They lived outside DC.

Aunt Bette’s eyes were round and she took in the inhabitants of my living room, her gaze finally resting on me and I knew she’d heard Naomi but then again, how could she not?

“Uh… surprise?” she asked and Uncle Marshall pushed in, shoving his wife in with him as Tack took a couple of steps back, dragging Naomi.

Uncle Marsh’s eyes also looked around my living room then found me.

Then, just like Uncle Marsh, he grinned his shit-eating grin.

There was only one person on this entire earth that could hear a foul-mouthed woman shrieking in his beloved niece’s house and find it grin-worthy and that was my Uncle Marsh.

I pulled in breath through my nostrils, tipped my head back to look at the ceiling then I looked at Uncle Marsh and grinned back.