Motorcycle Man

Chapter Nineteen Except Better

“Oh lordy, stop talking.”

This demand came from Elvira and when it did, the table full of women at Club burst out laughing. This was because I’d just explained precisely Tack’s ability to give pleasure. And I did this because I was highly inebriated.

It was Wednesday night and we were at Club.

The last two days I’d spent in the office at Ride’s garage dealing with work and man drama. As far as the work was concerned, it wasn’t like I was gone two days. It was like I was gone two weeks.

And, kid you not, men were crazier than women. Each mechanic and body guy’s life was like a soap opera and they did not leave it at home. Over donuts and coffee, they were in my office telling me about it. Breaking up with women, making up with them, juggling two at a time (or three and, in one case, four), exes entering the picture, hysterical pregnancies, real pregnancies, STD scares, women who didn’t “get them”, skanky ‘ho’s they fell for and who stole from them, financial troubles, car troubles (yes, mechanics had car troubles!), family troubles.

It wore me out just listening to it. Then again, I’d been listening to it for two weeks, they’d broken me in early so I figured one day, I’d get used to it.

And going to Tack’s house after work the night before was no less exhausting.

The good thing was, riding on the back of Tack’s bike with Tack was phenomenal. I’d ridden on the back of a bike before but I’d never done it with a man who I could press close to and hold tight.

It. Was. Awesome.

The other good thing was that Tack had a fantastic house. He lived on a quiet, secluded lot up in the foothills, his house built into the mountains and nearly the whole front was a deck that had spectacular views. You walked into an open entryway that fed to the left into a big comfortable living room that jutted out past the deck. Straight off the entryway was a big kitchen with views to the deck and beyond. The house was long, three bedrooms (one Tabby’s, one an office and one Tack’s master that had its own bath) and bathroom all off one side down a hall. The other side had more windows with Tack’s spectacular views.

What surprised me was that it didn’t scream Biker! Not that I would know what that was, just that it didn’t look rough and tumble and lived in and mostly filthy like the Chaos Compound. Just lived in. It wasn’t tidy but it was relatively clean and the kitchen was clearly used but immaculate. The furniture in the living room had been chosen for comfort only, wide seats, slouchy cushions, lots of throws and toss pillows, all inviting you to take a load off.

Although it didn’t scream Biker! it was decorated in “The Biker Experience”. A framed black and white picture of what Tabby told me was Sturgis, South Dakota circa some other time when there were ox and horses in the dirt streets. A framed, greasy motorcycle sprocket that Tabby told me was from Tack’s first bike. Jumbled frames holding pictures of Tack’s kids as well as men I knew or had seen (in other words, members of Chaos) and others I didn’t know. All of them wearing tees or leather jackets or leather vests with their arms slung around each other’s shoulders. All of them wearing shit-eating grins. All of them hairy, rough poster boys for the biker lifestyle. Some of pictures had Tack in them at varying ages from teenager to who he was today. And rounding out the décor were a number of motorcycle rally posters.

Tack carried my bag to his bedroom with Tabby and I following (Tabby talking). I found it had a big bed, two nightstands but only one that had a lamp, no alarm clock. A dresser across the room from the bed, tall, six drawers. There were two big windows covered in beige curtains. Tacked to the wall above the bed was a huge, slightly tattered American flag. And there were more picture frames filled with snapshots but not on the walls, on the dresser. Rounding out the look of Tack’s room were jeans, t-shirts, socks, belts, boxer briefs and boots in a tangle on the floor.

The night at Tack’s was exhausting because Tabby and Rush were there. I found teenagers had a lot of energy. And they were noisy.

I discovered the last part of this when we showed and there was music coming up from the basement where Rush had his room. It was metal and it was loud.

Clearly in her element and entirely comfortable, Tabby assumed the “woman of the house” role and claimed me immediately. She showed me around, gave me the lay of the land in the kitchen, got me a drink and gabbed animatedly to me the whole time. It was like she’d been deserted on an island , hadn’t seen another human being in ten years and was beside herself with joy that she finally had more than a coconut to talk to.

That day, Tack called and sent Rush out with a grocery list I prepared so all the fixin’s were available to make dinner for Tack and his kids. This I did to the stylings of Led Zeppelin. No, strike that. This I did with a continual loop of their song “Rock and Roll”. It was a kickass song but the twelfth time, I had to admit, I was over it.

Fortunately, Tack was too and I knew this when he stalked to the open door to the basement and shouted down the stairs, “Either you move to the next track or your fuckin’ stereo is sailing over the deck!”

“Black Dog” immediately came on.

This was such a relief that I smiled at Tabby. She burst out laughing.

And I thought that was nice. Not Tack shouting threats of stereo mutilation but the whole thing. Cooking with Tabby jabbering to me. The comfortable, lived-in house with spectacular views and a fantastic kitchen. The way they had about them that firmly said a family lived there.

Yes. I decided I was liking this roller coaster.

I made spaghetti with my homemade meatballs, garlic bread and Caesar salad with homemade dressing. I followed this with pistachio/chocolate parfaits made in some of Tack’s tumblers with pistachio and chocolate pudding (instant, I didn’t have the time to make homemade and further, I didn’t know how to make homemade pudding) and Cool Whip sprinkled with pistachio nuts. The meal wasn’t as good as Tack’s food but Tack and his kids hoovered through it. It also packed close to the same calorie and fat wallop so I figured I did all right.

We ate all of this in front of Tack’s huge, flat screen TV in the living room where I was treated to a marathon of Storage Wars. Seeing as I didn’t watch TV, I’d never heard of this program. But by the second episode I was hooked. I declared that I thought Brandi and Jarrod were “adorable” together which for some reason he didn’t explain made Rush laugh so hard I thought he would bust a gut. Rush might find that funny but I decided I was going to start dressing like Brandi. She always looked the shit. I also shared that Dave was my favorite “character” to which Tabby told me with grave seriousness, “But, Tyra, he’s the bad guy.”

I thought he was the guy who knew what he was doing and I liked his grin but what did I know?

Since the kids stayed up late, Tack and I went to bed before them. This I found uncomfortable and what made it more uncomfortable was Tack doing it like he often took women to bed with his kids around. Not to mention his kids acting like this was nothing out of the ordinary. Further, I found myself in the unusual mood of not being in the mood with Tack.

Kids, I discovered, were a wet blanket.

But when we hit his room, Tack made no moves on me.

He just said, “You get the bathroom first, babe. I gotta tell Rush something.”

He took off and I rooted through my bag. I was wearing a sky blue shelf-bra cami and a pair of mocha, drawstring, pajama short-shorts with sky-blue and grass green swirls on them, sitting cross-legged on his unmade bed when he returned.

It was then I found Tack’s nighttime routine included taking off his clothes and dropping them on the floor. Considering the thick layer of clothes on the floor, this wasn’t a surprise.

It was also then I found, when he climbed into bed with me, turned out the one lamp then tucked me in his side, Tack wasn’t in the mood either.

And last, I found that in his bed, we had different sides. Not that we had sides, as such, since, in our limited experience, we slept cuddled together. But in my bed I was on the right. In his, he positioned me on his left.

I lay cozied up to him in the dark for a while before he spoke.

“Dinner was good, Red.”

“Thanks,” I whispered.

“And I get you. Dave from Storage Wars is the man.”

I smiled into the dark. Tack must have felt my cheek move on his shoulder because his arm gave me a squeeze.

We fell silent.

Then I started, “Um…”

Then I stopped.

“Yeah?”

“Nothing,” I whispered.

“Um… what?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Nothing, Tack.”

“Start it, say it,” he ordered.

I sighed. Then I said it.

“The, uh… kids didn’t seem surprised you and I headed off to bed together.”

“They wouldn’t, seein’ as I called them and told them you were comin’ up to make dinner and you were spendin’ the night. Rush even went to get the food, darlin’.”

This was true.

“Is this a, uh, normal occurrence?”

“It ain’t normal. It also ain’t out of the ordinary.”

Damn.

Honesty was usually good except at times like these.

“Though, none of them made my kids dinner,” Tack continued then concluded, “Or sat around and watched TV with them.”

This was something but it didn’t make me feel a whole lot better.

Tack’s arm tightened and he pulled me on him and up so we were chest to chest and face to face in the dark.

“I ain’t no choirboy,” he said quietly.

“I know that,” I said quietly back.

I knew it but still, I didn’t like this aspect of it.

“Kids were younger, no way. Women up here only when they were at their Mom’s. They got older, way of the world.”

Hmm. I might disagree with that if they were my flesh and blood.

Tack continued, “That said, babe, none of those bitches got here on the back of my bike either.”

“Is this a significant distinction?” I enquired.

“Yep.”

“Do they understand that?”

“Yep.”

“Are you going to explain it to me seeing as I don’t?” I asked.

Tack’s chuckle rumbled all around me and through me which sounded and felt nice.

When he stopped chuckling, he explained.

“Some bikers have a code about who they put on the backs of their bikes and when. Rally, party, road trip, could be whoever you pick up. Your wheels are takin’ you home, for me, for Chaos, only the old lady. A woman comes up here, she has her own ride. That way, I’m done, she can go. You gotta wait for me to take you where you need to be. This means, unless I take you, you aren’t goin’ anywhere.”

I’m done, she can go.

There was a lot there to get angry about so I decided to avoid it.

All of it.

“I’m thinking, handsome, it might be good to end the biker lesson now seeing as this particular one might piss me off.”

“Not surprised, babe, but we had a good run.”

“Pardon?”

“Took you to work, brought you to my house, you cooked, we ate, we watched TV, all good. No fights. No backtalk. All day. But all good things come to an end.”

It was at this point I was glaring at him through the dark.

“I’m thinking now, handsome, it might be good for you to stop talking altogether seeing as everything you’re saying might piss me off.”

“Sound of it, babe, no ‘might’ about you getting pissed. You just are.”

At that, my glare became a stare because not only did he sound like he was amused, I could see the white flash of his smile in the dark.

But to confirm, I asked, “Are you amused?”

“Fuck yeah.

I sought further confirmation. “You’re amused that I’m pissed.”

His other arm stole around me and he gave me a squeeze on his repeated, “Fuck yeah.”

It was then, light dawned.

“You like it,” I said softly.

“Definitely.”

“You like me pissed off?”

“No. I like not knowin’ what to expect. I like that even though you say I scare you, you are not scared of me. The way you face off against me, you’re not scared. Not one fuckin’ bit. I like that you don’t hesitate to speak your mind. I like that you don’t hide your emotions. I like that when you get pissed, you just do and let it all hang out. You don’t store up that shit and let it explode all over the fuckin’ place when I least expect it. So, yeah. I like it. Definitely.”

How did he do that? Answer questions that had no good answers with a good answer.

“You’re still pissed,” Tack observed, clearly feeling my vibe.

“Well, yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because you have good answers to questions that have no good answers and that’s annoying.”

“Why is that annoying?”

“Because I’m a woman. We get annoyed at all sorts of things that make no sense.”

“Now who has a good answer to a question that doesn’t have a good answer?”

Argh!

Sharp as a freaking tack!

“Now you’re annoying because you’re too clever for my own good,” I informed him then I found myself on my back with Tack on top of me, his face so close to mine I could feel his goatee tickling my chin.

“She’s gettin’ it,” he muttered.

“Getting what?”

“Why we work.”

I felt my breath start to get heavy so I had to force out my, “And why’s that?”

“Because I ain’t stupid and you aren’t stupid either. Because I’m wild and, you let loose from that green tea, salad and no TV shit, so are you. Because people are scared of me but you aren’t. We’re on equal footing, Red. No one has the upper hand.” His lips moved so they were touching mine when he finished, “’Cept you’re a damn sight prettier than me.”

Oh God, he was making me melt at the same time he was turning me on.

“You’re hot,” I told him, my hands sliding up the sleek skin and hard muscle of his back.

“Pleased you think so,” he replied, his hand sliding up the skin of my side.

“No, everyone would think so. Even a nun. She’d pray for your immortal soul but, if pressed, she would have to admit you’re good-looking because it’s a sin to lie.”

His hand stopped at my side and his thumb swept out, grazing the curve of my breast causing a delectable shiver to glide over my skin when he ordered, “Stop bein’ cute, baby. You’re makin’ me hard and I can’t fuck you when the kids are awake.”

My hands slid back down his back, down, down until my fingers curved in his hard ass as I breathed, “You can’t?”

“Fuck no. You’re a moaner.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. Loud.”

Oh God.

“Really?”

“It’s good. Really fuckin’ good when my mouth is on you or my dick’s inside you. When it ain’t good is when Tabby and Rush are down the hall.”

“I can see this,” I whispered, sliding my hands back up, fingers and palms flat, taking in all I could get, my touch light.

“And it’d be good, you stop touchin’ me.”

“I like touching you,” I said softly.

“I like it too, baby, but it ain’t helpin’ my fight to stop gettin’ hard.”

My hands stopped and I advised, “Then you might want to stop whispering against my lips, Tack, because that’s turning me on.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm hmm.”

“Doesn’t take much for you, does it, darlin’?”

With the others, it did.

But not with him.

I didn’t share that.

Instead I said, “It’s the goatee.”

“Bullshit, it’s me.”

He totally had me figured out.

“Well, it is your goatee.”

That was when I felt his lips smile against my mouth.

Then, alas, he lifted his lips from mine and stated, “Right, been a good night, Red. I learned somethin’ gets up your ass, you don’t delay and with only a little coaxing, you ask me about it. I learned you think I’m hot. I learned you can be cute when you’re turned on. And it’s a definite that I’m never shavin’ off this goatee.” I grinned at him through the dark but he concluded with, “Not that I was goin’ to anyway.”

“Well I’m glad you’ve declared that as a definite,” I told him with humor vibrating in my voice. “Brings me relief.”

“Babe, you’re still bein’ cute.”

“Oh. Right. I’ll stop doing that right away.”

“Christ, still fuckin’ cute,” he muttered and his thumb did another sweep and grazed the curve of my breast causing another shiver at the same time my nipples got hard.

Time for a subject change.

“When something gets up my ass, I don’t delay in asking you about it?”

“Nope.”

“What was up my ass?”

“You cottoned onto the fact the kids didn’t blink I had a woman in my house. That crawled up your ass. You sat on it for about fifteen minutes. Only a little pressure from me, you put it out there.”

“Oh.”

“Before you ask and so you don’t have to think about it, I like that too. Definitely.”

“Good,” I whispered, giving him a squeeze with my arms.

“Fuck me, now she’s bein’ sweet.”

I laughed softly and offered, “You want me to get pissed and maybe throw a rant?”

“No, ‘cause that makes me hard too.”

“What doesn’t make you hard?”

“Comes to you, not much.”

Oh boy.

That was nice.

“Honey,” I whispered.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled, pressing his hips into me, “seriously, stop being sweet.”

“Maybe we should go to sleep. I can’t be anything unconscious.”

“Yeah you can. You go back to cute.”

I blinked up at him and asked, “Pardon?”

“You go back to cute. You got these times when you press close and you make noises.”

“I make…” I paused, “noises?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you saying I snore?”

“No. I’m sayin’ you make noises.”

“What kind of noises?”

Tack didn’t respond for a moment then he asked, “You don’t know you make ‘em?”

“No.”

“No other man told you about them?”

“No.”

“Fuck, how many men have you had?”

“Tack,” I steered him back to target, “noises?”

“In your throat. Like little moans. They’re cute.”

Oh God.

“They’re also hot.”

Well, that wasn’t so bad.

Tack went on. “They sound like you sound when I’m buildin’ it.”

“Building what?”

“Buildin’ you up to coming.”

“Great,” I muttered. “I don’t know whether to be mortified or turned on.”

“How about just bein’ you. It isn’t mortifying ‘cause it’s cute, it’s sweet and it’s hot. But it don’t matter since there’s nothing you can do about it anyway.”

This was good advice so I decided to take it.

“Though,” he continued, “when you do it pressin’ up against me, it wakes me up, I hear it, you’re close, I don’t know whether to lie there and enjoy it or wake you up and fuck you.”

At that moment, I would have advised him to choose the latter.

Instead, I suggested, “Go with your gut.”

“Gut tells me to fuck you.”

“Like I said.”

Tack threw his head back and burst out laughing and I grinned through the dark at him while he did it. My arms around him, holding his big, shaking body close and really liking the sound and feel of his humor all around me.

When he was mostly done, but still chuckling, he dropped his head and took my mouth in a hot, sweet, wet, long kiss that left me slightly breathless and holding him even closer.

“All right, Red, time for some shuteye,” he muttered when he released my mouth.

“Okay, honey.”

“Three.”

“Pardon?”

“Three honeys.”

He was counting.

“Now you’re being sweet,” I whispered.

“You gonna fall apart on me?”

“I’ll try not to.”

“Good,” he said softly then dipped his head again and touched his mouth to mine before he rolled, taking me with him and settling us with me tucked into his side. “Now sleep.”

“Your wish is my command.”

“Attitude,” he muttered.

“What do you expect? You just ordered me to go to sleep.”

“You wanna watch TV with the kids?”

“No.”

“So what’s with the sass?”

“It’s me.”

“It is,” he sighed. “Fuck me.”

“You said you like it,” I reminded him.

“Gotta shut up to sleep, Tyra,” he noted.

“Apparently I don’t since I make noises while sleeping.”

“Fuck,” he murmured.

“All right, all right. I’ll shut up and sleep.”

“’Preciate it, baby.”

I snuggled closer. Tack’s arm around my waist tightened while I did so and only relaxed after I did.

Then I studied the planes of his chest in the dark, the darker marks of his tats until my eyelids drooped and I fell asleep.

Tack woke me in the dead of night, hand between my legs, lips to mine and I could feel I was already wet. I knew this because I was totally turned on.

The second my eyes opened, he whispered, “Goin’ with my gut, baby.”

I smiled against his mouth.

Tack kissed the smile from my lips.

Then he fucked me.

Then he let me go back to sleep tucked to his side.

He fucked me again in his shower the next morning. Apparently, the shower drowned out my moans. It didn’t matter anyway, the kids weren’t up.

Then we got ready, he put me on the back of his bike and took me to work.

More soap opera from the boys at work before it was quitting time and I could go home and gussy up.

This brought me to now. Sitting in Club in a little haltertop dress that was clingy, had a short skirt, serious cleavage and was the color of aquamarines. I wore it with spike-heeled, strappy, silver sandals. I also wore it with lots of chunky, kickass silver jewelry, three times as much makeup than I normally wore on my face and my hair out to there.

And I was sitting with Gwen, Mara, Tess Lucas (Mitch’s partner’s wife) and Elvira. Our posse also included Gwen’s friends Camille and Tracy and Mara’s friend LaTanya. And last there was a woman with loads of strawberry blonde curls who looked like a fairy princess. Her name was Sadie Chavez. I drunkenly didn’t remember how she factored into the group but I did know she was semi-famous in Denver though I didn’t remember how.

I watched the women laugh, fuzzily noticed that Elvira wasn’t laughing but scowling and that Gwen was the first person to quit laughing and she did it with her eyes on me.

“So, Tack has kids?” she asked when the laughter died down.

“Yeah, two. Rush is seventeen, nearly eighteen. Tabby just turned sixteen,” I answered.

“I didn’t know Tack had kids,” she muttered and I lifted my cosmo to take a sip in order to hide my drunken elation that Gwen didn’t know Tack had kids. And I felt this elation as any woman would, sitting and drinking with a woman her man had feelings for with those feelings once including the fact he thought she had staying power.

Being hooked up with Hawk, Gwen wasn’t competition, this was true. What she was was a stunning, tall, curvy blonde wearing a fabulous little black dress, even more fabulous shoes and having a great sense of humor. Until I knew her better, she was going to be the stunning, tall, curvy blonde with excellent fashion sense for whom my man had feelings. Me not only knowing Tack had kids but meeting them and spending time with them meant I had one up on her.

“Seventeen and sixteen,” LaTanya said, surprised, then looked at me. “How old is he?”

“Forty-one,” Gwen answered and I instantly took a shot to the heart.

First, because she knew how old Tack was and I didn’t. That took away my one up.

Second, because Tack was forty-one.

Forty-one.

Ohmigod!

“Forty-one!” I shrieked, calculating it, the time it would take to make sure all was good, the length of an appropriate engagement, the time we’d want to have just him and me and coming up with a very bad figure while all eyes turned to me.

“Yeah, forty-one,” Gwen stated then asked, “How old are you?”

“Thirty-five,” I replied and I was. Thirty-five. Tack was forty-one, had two grown kids and my calculations put him at at least forty-three, maybe forty-four depending on when his birthday was when, if all worked out, we could start a family.

Oh… my… God!

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God!” I cried, slamming my drink down and covering my face with my hands.

This was a disaster!

“Thinkin’ this is when the night turns bad.” I heard Elvira mutter but I wasn’t really listening. I was freaking out, despairing and shaking my head behind my hands.

“Tyra, are you all right?” I heard Sadie ask and I brought my hands down sharply, slammed them on the table and exclaimed, “No!”

“Why?” Camille asked, watching me closely.

“Because this screws with my dream. I didn’t think he was forty-one. He doesn’t look forty-one. He looks thirty-six, tops!” I was close to yelling and I noticed now Gwen was looking at me closely too and it wasn’t hard to read, even inebriated, she didn’t like what she saw. “How can he be forty-one and look thirty-six? He drinks beer. He shoots tequila. He eats more pork in one meal than most people have in a week. He rides motorcycles in the sun without a helmet. And he lives wild. That isn’t possible!”

“Uh, forty-one isn’t exactly old. And he’s hot,” Gwen remarked.

“I know he’s hot. I’m intimately acquainted with all the ways he’s hot,” I returned.

“No, no, no,” Elvira chanted, hand up, palm toward me, “don’t go back there, girl. We already had the pleasure discussion and I might look recovered but, the shit you shared, I’m not.”

“So, I don’t get it, what’s the problem?” Tracy asked the second Elvira quit talking and I rocked my ass in my tall stool, making it wobble but getting closer to the table, settling in and I started to count it down.

“It’s supposed to happen like this,” I lifted a hand and grabbed my other index finger, “I find my dream man. No one else would do. I promised myself that. Dream man or nothing. No settling. So I didn’t. I would have preferred to meet him ten years ago. I didn’t. I met him at a party at Ride two and a half weeks ago. I didn’t know this because he was fantastic in bed and gave me so many orgasms, I lost count –”

“What’d I say about pleasure discussion?” Elvira asked sharply, interrupting me, eyes narrowed. But I was on a mission, ignored her and kept right on talking.

“I knew it because he was funny. I knew it because he made me laugh. He made me feel beautiful. He made me forget about all the worries and shit in life and just have fun. Be alive. Then he was a jerk and I mean… bad. Then we fought, like, a lot. Then we had a drama that involved kidnapping and neither of us responded to that well but even though it sucked and hurt something awful, it was good in the end because I exposed my soft spot and Tack promised he’d handle me with more care. Now he’s hot, great in bed, gentle and unbelievably sweet, all this proving he’s the one. He’s my dream man.”

Distractedly I noticed Gwen wasn’t looking at me like she didn’t like what she was seeing anymore but smiling at me.

“So, again, I don’t get it. What’s the problem?” Tracy somewhat repeated and my eyes went to her.

“The problem is,” my voice was rising and I let go of my finger, “the dream is, after I found my dream man, he’d woo me, which Tack doesn’t do but I’m okay with that since he’s a great cook, he thinks I’m cute, sweet and likes it when I get pissed which happens with him a lot and he’s awesome in bed.”

“Is no one listening to me?” Elvira asked but I talked over her.

“Then he’d win me, marry me in a big-ass wedding that rivals anything the Windsors could dream up and then…” I leaned toward Tracy, “we’d have…” I leaned closer, nearly teetering off my chair, “lots of babies!” I slammed back in my stool and threw up my hands. “But he’s forty-one! He’s got two grown kids! He’s not going to want to start again now! And he might be enough for me, being all that is Tack. That’s a consideration. And he has two kids, good kids that I like. But they’re older, almost grown up so it isn’t like I can ride the wave of helping to raise another woman’s kids to get my kid fix so I’d have to give up that part of the dream. And I promised I wouldn’t give up any part of my dream. And I want kids!” Now I was mostly shouting and ended my shout with, “Gah!”

Then I slapped my hands to my face again, covering it.

“I’m seeing her point,” Tess whispered.

“Me too,” Mara whispered back.

I dropped my hands and nabbed my clutch that was resting on the high, round table we were sitting at, declaring, “I’m calling him. We’re going to talk about this right now.”

“No!” Elvira said loudly. “Girl, don’t do that.”

“I’m doing it,” I mumbled, digging through my clutch.

“Don’t do it, really, don’t do it,” Elvira advised.

“Why?” Tess asked.

“Because, she’s been seein’ this guy for a couple of weeks. It’s been drama most of that time, it’s been good for only a few days, she’s drunk and no way she should be talkin’ to some biker about her dream wedding that rivals the shindigs of the Royals and lotsa babies after a few days of good,” Elvira explained. “I don’t know, I haven’t read the handbook, but my guess is, bikers don’t do royal weddings. More like, rowdy weddings that end in someone gettin’ stuck with a knife.”

It was then I decided it was imperative I talked with Tack about his thoughts on weddings too. Though, maybe later.

“I’m with Elvira on this one,” Camille put in her two cents. “Especially the drunk part seein’ as Tyra’s not drunk, she’s hammered. I do not see good things with this talk. Men like drunk women who get horny. They do not like drunk women who get hysterical about future babies…” I looked at her and she finished, “or not as the case may be.”

Oh God.

I was totally calling him.

I dropped my head and started digging through my clutch again.

“But this is important, she shouldn’t waste time if they don’t see eye-to-eye on their future. She should talk to him,” Sadie cast her vote.

“I agree,” Tess agreed with Sadie.

“I’m on the fence,” Tracy put in. “I see all your points.”

“Why am I not surprised about that?” Elvira muttered and I yanked out my phone and held it straight up in the air.

“Found it!” I cried.

“Oh shit,” Elvira muttered again.

“Jesus,” Camille murmured.

“Oh man,” Gwen whispered.

I dropped my hand, dropped my head and started stabbing the phone with my finger.

“I’m guessing this means we’re calling it a night,” Tess declared. “I’m calling Brock. Anyone need a ride home?”

“Hawk’s coming. He already texted me that he’s on his way. We have room. I can give rides too,” Gwen offered as I messed up and accidentally called my friend Susie in Tennessee so I had to disconnect and start over.

“Mitch is on his way too so we can take a few people,” Mara stated and, at her words, I got distracted and looked at her because I suddenly forgot what I was doing seeing as I wanted to meet Big Hearted Detective Mitch Lawson.

“I took a taxi here and Tack told me this would go long so he decided he’s at his place tonight. I’ll take a ride with you and Mitch,” I told her.

“Cool,” she said softly and smiled at me.

I went back to my phone and successfully hit Tack’s contact so I put it to my ear and listened to it ring.

It rang once then his gravelly voice came at me with, “Everything good?”

Damn, I liked his voice. Even on the phone.

“We need to talk,” I declared.

Silence then, “Say again?”

“Where are you?” I asked.

“The Compound havin’ drinks with the boys,” he answered.

“We need to talk. Now or close to now. My place when, of course, I get there and, uh, you do too. Mitch and Mara are taking me home.”

“We need to talk?”

“Yep.”

“About what?”

I brought the mouthpiece of my phone closer to my lips and whispered with heavy meaning, “Everything.”

“Oh shit,” Elvira muttered.

“Jesus,” Camille murmured.

“Oh man,” Gwen whispered.

“Everything?” Tack asked.

“Absolutely everything.”

“That’s gonna take a long time, Red,” Tack observed.

“No. The everything we need to talk about requires yes or no answers from you.”

“It’s nearly two in the morning,” Tack noted.

“Are you too busy to talk about everything which means everything important… in life?” I asked with grave, but drunken, seriousness and the drunken part was communicated by me slurring my words more than a little bit.

Silence then, “Are you smashed?”

“Completely and totally.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Who cares?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“’Cause you’re smashed, you been with your girls, you somehow got riled up about somethin’ and once I settle you down about whatever’s aggravating you, I’m gonna rile you up a different way.”

My toes curled. Promptly after that, I got annoyed.

“Stop turning me on when I have the weight of my future happiness on my mind!” I snapped.

“Oh lordy,” Elvira muttered.

“Right on,” Gwen whispered.

“Why do I suddenly want a scary biker dude?” LaTanya asked.

From Tack with a smile in his voice, I heard, “I’ll be there in ten.”

“No, I’m getting a ride with Big Hearted Mitch.”

“Big Hearted Mitch?” Tack asked.

“Big Hearted Detective Mitch Lawson,” I clarified.

“Seems she knows your story,” LaTanya muttered to who I guessed was Mara though I wouldn’t know since I was staring at the table.

“I like that title for Mitch,” Mara muttered back, confirming my guess. “It fits.”

“I’ll be there in ten, Red,” Tack repeated.

“No, really, I want to ride with Mitch and Mara. I’ll meet you at my place.”

“Baby,” his voice gentled, “this is me seein’ to that soft spot when I say quiet-like that I… will… be… there… in ten. And what I mean is, when I get there in ten, your ass better be there.”

Oh boy.

“Are you coming on your bike?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m in a tight, short, little, aquamarine dress with high heels. I can’t get on a bike.”

“You’re in a tight, short dress and high heels?” Tack asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

“Tack!” I exclaimed but he’d disconnected.

I did too and looked at Mara. “Tack’s ruining my ride home experience with Big Hearted Mitch. He’s going to be here in five.”

Mara smiled and offered, “We’ll have you over for dinner. That way you can meet Bud and Billie.”

Bud and Billie were Mara’s second cousins. Bud and Billie were also the kids Mitch and Mara were raising because their Dad was a criminal asshole.

“Awesome,” I breathed, grabbed my glass and sucked back the last of my cosmo.

“We shoulda confiscated that while she was distracted by her scary biker dude,” LaTanya noted, eyeing the empty glass I put back on the table.

“Too late now,” Elvira replied.

Sadie whispered, “Excuse me,” slipped off her stool and disappeared.

I stared after her thinking she totally looked like a real-life fairy princess. And I kept thinking this, my gaze growing hazy and unfocused, until she slipped back on her stool two minutes later. This woke me up, my body gave a slight jerk and my head filled with the possibility that Tack wouldn’t want to have more kids when I did, badly, which would mean bad things for us. I was doing this, my heart beginning to hurt, as my head did a distracted scan of the still heaving restaurant/bar but my eyes caught on something. Then my head snapped back and I felt my eyes grow round. When the fullness of all that was meeting my vision penetrated, my hand shot out to curve around the edge of the table and my breath left me.

“Holy crap,” I whispered as I stared at the men sauntering to our table.

One was Hawk.

Suffice it to say, considering I’d been in the throes of a kidnap rescue, I hadn’t taken him in fully when I first met him. He was not wearing a tee and cargo pants. He was wearing a dark gray, slim-fit shirt and jeans. They looked good on him. Way good. Otherworldly good. And he wasn’t hot. He was smoking hot.

With him were three other men. Two were tall, dark and gorgeous and both gorgeous in a way that was also otherworldly. One was older and had unusual but unbelievably beautiful silver eyes, these soft and aimed at Tess. One was younger and had soulful, dark brown eyes, these gentle and they were on Mara.

And last, there was a Hispanic man who was rough around the edges and needed a haircut about three weeks ago but he worked it almost as good as Tack. His eyes were black, they were intense but sweet and they were on Sadie.

“We’ve hit the hot guy motherlode,” I whispered reverently when they were about five feet from our table.

“Welcome to my nightmare,” Elvira muttered. “Though you got yourself a biker who fills his Levi’s so well he should be in Harley Davidson ads and has an off-the-charts ability to give pleasure so you can’t really understand my pain.”

I again ignored Elvira because the Hot Guy Crew hit our table and I was busy leaning forward and breathing in their general direction, “Hello boys.”

Two pairs of black eyes, one pair of brown and one pair of silver shifted to me. All the men grinned but only Hawk had dimples. Two of them.

They were hot.

My heart fluttered.

Hawk looked down at Gwen, claiming her by sliding an arm around her shoulders and I decided instantly they looked freaking great together. “See you had a good night,” he muttered.

“Tyra, this is Mitch,” Mara said and I tore my eyes off Hawk to see Mitch had done the claiming shoulder thing with his woman on her stool.

“Big Hearted Mitch,” I whispered.

“Sorry?” he asked.

“That’s your new title,” Mara answered, her head tipped back to look up at him and he dropped his chin to look down at her. “Big Hearted Mitch.”

I watched his full, beautiful lips twitch and I felt a different kind of flutter.

“And this is Brock,” Tess put in and my eyes went to him.

“Do I have a title?” Brock asked.

“Silver Hottie,” I answered and I heard girl giggles all around.

“What?” Brock asked, smiling, his deep voice amused.

“I just christened you that. Your eyes,” I answered and then his lips twitched which caused another flutter.

“Hector’s already known as Hispanic Hottie or Double H,” Sadie put in and I tore my eyes from Brock’s mouth and looked at Hector who was staring at me, his dark eyes dancing. “Meet my husband,” Sadie went on, “Hector Chavez.”

“If anyone tells you you need a haircut,” I advised, “tell them to jump in a lake.”

“Will do,” he muttered on his own lip twitch while sliding his arm around Sadie’s shoulders.

“I see Tack found it,” I heard Hawk say softly. I looked his and Gwen’s way to see they were looking at each other, Hawk bent slightly toward her so they were close.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Gwen said softly back, smiling, and I was about to ask what they were talking about but I didn’t get the chance when Hawk straightened and spoke.

“I’ll get the check.”

“Oh no!” I cried, opening my clutch, “Let me –”

“I’ll get it,” Brock interrupted me.

“We’ll split it,” Mitch put in.

“I got it,” Hawk replied.

“Four ways,” Hector’s deep voice rumbled.

“You got it last time,” Brock remarked.

“And I’ll get it again this time,” Hawk returned.

“Fuck, we’ll split it,” Mitch repeated but with an extra word.

“Oo lordy,” Elvira whispered. “Normal men fight over the check and it can get nasty. Badasses fighting over the check, I don’t see good things.”

“I already got it,” Sadie threw in at this juncture and four sets of male eyes turned to her and although she looked like a fairy princess and was married to a serious hot guy, I didn’t want to be her at that moment.

“Fuck me,” Hector sighed then asked weirdly, “Did you also buy the restaurant while you were at it?”

“No!” Sadie snapped.

“That’s a first,” Hector muttered.

“I’ve never bought a restaurant, Hector,” Sadie retorted.

“Way you spread your money around, mi amor, we won’t be able to put our kids through college,” Hector returned.

“I could buy three restaurants and still we’d be able to put our kids through college,” she shot back and I was surprised. First, because, obviously she was loaded. Second, because she’d seemed sweet and funny but not sassy. Clearly, she was sassy. It was way cute.

“Red,” I heard a gravelly voice say and my head whipped around to see Tack standing at the other end of the table. “Bike.”

Even though his presence ratcheted the hotness quotient surrounding our table up about seventeen notches, not to mention he was mine, I started glaring.

“Well hello to you too, handsome.”

“Bike,” he repeated.

“Would you like to say hi to everyone?” I suggested.

He cast his eyes around the table and grunted, “Yo.” Then he locked his eyes on me and reiterated, “Bike.”

Picking a girl at random, I chose Tess. “He’s not scary biker dude. He’s bossy biker dude.”

“Red,” Tack cut in and I looked back at him. “Bike.”

I kept glaring at him.

“Now I see the other half of it,” Hawk muttered at this point.

“Tyra,” Tack stated in a warning, growly voice.

“Oh, all right,” I snapped and hopped off my stool, catching Sadie’s eyes. “Sadie, thanks for the drinks. That was sweet. My turn next time.”

“Okay,” she replied.

“Like that’s gonna happen,” Hector muttered.

Sadie rolled her eyes.

I smiled at her and looked at Hawk.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you for rescuing me.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied.

“I already did,” I pointed out and got the dimples.

Wow.

“Then, you’re welcome,” he said.

I smiled at him then gave my good-byes and nice to meet you’s and made my way to Tack. The instant I got close, his hand closed around mine and he dragged me toward the door.

I turned back and waved at the crew.

The girls waved back.

The men watched with lips tipped up.

I memorized the view because, seriously, they were like out of a movie about cool, badass macho men and funny, sassy women that dressed kickass who all bantered and got kidnapped frequently.

Except better.