Kristen Ashley - Motorcycle Man

Instead of clenching, my heart grew light.

That felt a whole lot better.

I smiled at him and waited for Tack to smile back.

He did and it was great.

Then I walked out the door.

“Can I say, I’m not sure about this?” I said into the “secure phone” Tack handed me when it rang.

My ass was on the counter in my kitchen close to where Tack was working. And my ass was there because Tack planted it there with a muttered, “Keep me company while I cook,” which was kind of an invitation but him doing it after lifting me up and planting my ass on the counter was more a command.

It was the evening after our showdown in the office. As promised, Tack came over with grocery bags full of food to make our dinner that I discovered was going to be chops, potatoes and green beans. The minute he closed the door behind him, he grabbed my hand, dragged me to my kitchen and planted my ass on the counter with his kind of invitation to hang with him while he cooked. So I was hanging with him while he cooked.

This was after I spent the day cleaning my house, doing yoga and opening the door to a scary looking, boy-man biker in training who introduced himself as Roscoe and was wielding a metal detector (it took him half an hour but he found Lanie’s ring).

I did all this while anticipating that night.

I didn’t have to think about my decision since both of us knew it was already made.

I was kind of scared.

I was mostly excited.

And I was excited because maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t wrong about Tack being my dream man.

But in the two weeks we’d been playing our game, things had been anything but normal. Your man coming over to make dinner with you knowing he was going to do it as well as understanding he was your man was normal.

I was scared of normal.

I was also excited about it.

And normal started out good. As I sat on the counter watching, Tack slid right into it like we’d known each other years rather than weeks and most of those years had been normal.

Though, he did it while unpacking food and preparing the potatoes which looked like they were going to be awesome. Sliced super thin, arranged in a casserole dish, layered with salt, pepper, paprika, pats of butter and minced garlic then smothered in cream and milk before he slid them into the oven. He also did this while telling me about Detective Mitch Lawson and his woman, Mara Hanover-very-soon-to-be Lawson (as they were engaged).

And what he told me was scary.

It also confirmed Mara Hanover-very-soon-to-be Lawson had an off-the-charts big heart.

But, although I got the drift that cops were not Tack’s favorite people, the way he told the story shared that Detective Mitch Lawson’s heart was so off-the-charts big, it needed its own zip code. Cop or no, Detective Lawson had Tack’s respect not for being a cop but for being a good man who took care of his woman and the two kids they’d taken under their wing.

When he was done, I was looking forward to getting to know Mara better. And I was hoping I’d meet Mitch.

That was when the phone Tack had placed on the counter rang. He grabbed it, picked it up and handed it to me.

“Yours. Burner. Secure. How you communicate with your girl. She’s callin’.”

Even though I didn’t fully understand a couple of his words, I wanted to kiss him. He’d arranged for me to have access to Lanie and that was thoughtful. It was also sweet.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to kiss him because checking in with Lanie took precedence. So I answered the phone and was assured by Lanie that she was okay after her abduction and interrogation. Then I was very not assured when she told me she and Elliott were planning to make their problems go away by disappearing.

Disappearing!

I didn’t even know what that meant. I just knew it didn’t mean good things.

This brought me to now, telling Lanie I wasn’t sure about this scheme (by the way, this was a massive understatement).

“Eli and I have talked about it, Ty-Ty, and it’s our only option,” Lanie replied.

I sucked in breath. Then my eyes slid to Tack who was at the stove making what appeared to be homemade stuffing that had sausage and mushrooms in it and, incidentally, also looked awesome. Unfortunately at that moment with the prospect of my best friend doing something bonkers, like disappearing, I suddenly wasn’t hungry.

His hand was holding a wooden spoon that was moving stuffing around in a pot but his eyes were on me.

“There’s another option,” I ventured carefully, my eyes holding Tack’s.

“What?” Lanie asked.

I looked to my knees and suggested quietly. “You could let him go. Let him face the consequences. I know that’s harsh but –”

Lanie cut me off. “I can’t desert him.”

“Yes, honey, you can. We’re talking the Russian mob. We’re talking you disappearing. We’re –”

“Tyra,” she interrupted me again, “in just weeks, I was going to pledge my troth to this man. What would it say about me when, days ago, I was intent on spending my life with him, for better or for worse, that I fall at the first hurdle?”

“Lanie, honey, really, I don’t want to be mean but this isn’t a hurdle. This is a twenty foot, steel-reinforced, concrete wall. I know I don’t have to tell you because you were there, and so was I, but we were kidnapped because of his shit.”

Tack made a noise that sounded like an amused grunt and my eyes went to him to see he was grinning at the pot but Lanie spoke in my ear.

“I’m sorry, Ty-Ty. So sorry. And Elliott is too. He feels so bad. He won’t stop talking about it. Not only that it happened to me but that it happened to you and your aunt. But he didn’t kidnap us. He just messed up. And, sweetie, the thing is, I’ve had a long time of better. This is the worse part of for better and worse. And he got in this pickle for me.”

My back went straight and I looked at the wall in front of me. “Oh no. I’m being cautious here because I know you love him and things are crazy but that’s not going to happen, you taking any blame for his actions.”

“Say it like it is, baby,” Tack muttered and my gaze went back to his, my eyes widening in a mute communication of “no comments from the peanut gallery”. This simply got me a bigger grin before Tack turned off the burner, picked up the pot and moved to the thick chops he’d laid in a tray.

Lanie was silent a moment then she whispered, “Ty-Ty, I love him and love scales twenty foot, steel-reinforced, concrete walls. If it doesn’t, it isn’t love.”

Damn, she had me there.

“What are you going to do for money? What about your job. His job? Your house? The wedding?” I asked, leaving out the selfish but (I thought) important Me?

“We’ll figure it out.”

Gah!

“Lanie –”

“Tyra, sweetie, that’s also what love is. You figure it out.”

She had me there too.

I sucked in breath, my head dropped and my shoulders drooped.

Then I said softly, “I’m worried about you.”

I heard the door on the oven go up and half a second later a strong, warm hand curved around the back of my neck. I looked up and saw a now unamused Tack holding my neck and my eyes, his serious and searching. Then, when he found what he was searching for, his eyes warmed and his hand gave me a squeeze.

That was thoughtful and sweet too.

“We’ll be all right,” Lanie assured.

“But –”

“And if we aren’t all right then we’ll be not all right together which is a form of all right.”

As nuts as it was, as insane as the situation, I was both glad for my friend that she had that conviction about the man she loved just as I was jealous and wanted that for me.

And thinking that, my eyes held by the deep warmth in Tack’s, my heart clenched yet again but it was the good kind of clench.

Scared but excited.

And hopeful.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“I’ll keep you in the loop as much as Tack says is okay,” Lanie told me.

There it was. More. Tack was protecting Lanie (and Elliott) as well as me.

“I’d appreciate it.”

“I’ll tell Elliott you said ‘hi’.”

I wanted her to kick Elliott in the shin for me and, maybe, shove his shoulder and, possibly, lecture him for being an idiot in love and doing stupid shit the caliber of which ended in the mob snatching three women from an upscale mall parking lot but I didn’t share that.

Instead, noncommittally, I said, “Right.”

Lanie giggled quietly because she knew what I didn’t share.

“Roscoe found your ring. Did he get it to you?” I asked, changing the subject and Tack’s hand gave me another squeeze then he let me go and moved away.

“Got it. Thanks for that.”

“Thank Roscoe, he was the one wielding the metal detector.”

“Already did.”

“Good,” I muttered.

“I have to go, Ty-Ty. They just brought in our food.”

“Okay, honey, stay safe and stay strong.”

“Will do. And next time we talk, I want to know all about you.”

Translation: She wanted an update on me and Tack.

“Will do,” I repeated her words. “Later, honey.”

“Later, Ty-Ty.”

I slid the phone shut. When I did, Tack was right there sliding it out of my hand. He set it on the counter then he positioned in front of me, pulled my knees apart then he positioned in me. He did this by wrapping his arms around me and yanking me forward on the counter so his hips were between my legs and I was crotch to chest against him, tight.