Kristen Ashley - Motorcycle Man

I wasn’t even sipping coffee and, still, I choked.

Then I pushed out, “What?”

“I accept.”

I shook my head and kept shaking it when I requested clarification, “Let me get this straight. Did you just accept my non-marriage offer?”

“Non-marriage?”

“I didn’t ask!” My voice was rising.

“So you just wanna shack up?” he asked but didn’t wait on my answer. “I’m good with that too.”

Gah!

“I’m getting my huge-ass wedding,” I declared.

“So you are askin’ me to marry you,” he noted.

Gah! Gah! Gah!

Sharp as a tack.

Someone kill me.

“When did you show last night?” I asked.

“Say again?”

“Last night, when I was going off on that kid, when did you show?”

“You’d just slapped him and asked, ‘How about that? Feel good?’.”

Wonderful. He caught nearly the entire performance.

“So you saw most of the show,” I surmised.

“Reckon. Yeah.”

“Do you want some of that?” I asked sweetly and Tack grinned huge, wicked and sexy, leaned into me fast, hooking his hand behind my head and pulling me to him.

“You think you could take me?” he asked softly.

“Only if I get to wield pepper spray,” I returned.

“No fuckin’ way,” he replied.

“Then no. But I’d give it a shot,” I retorted and he pulled me closer.

My breath started to escalate as his face, but mostly his mouth, got closer. It escalated further as his eyes moved over my face and it did this mainly because of the sweet, soft look in them.

Then they caught mine.

“Huge-ass wedding,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” I whispered back.

“That how you like it?”

“That’s always been my dream.”

“You didn’t settle for a man until you found the one you wanted, you keep settlin’ for nothin’ less, baby.”

My heart flipped.

I was going to get my huge-ass wedding.

To a biker.

Yay.

“Okay,” I breathed.

“Seein’ as you’re breathin’ and not through a tube, it’s all out there, you love me, lookin’ back on you kickin’ that motherfucker’s ass, gotta say, it was pretty hot.”

My belly fluttered.

“Yeah?” I asked softly.

“Yeah. You bein’ all riled up like that for my girl was hotter.”

“It was for Tabby as well as all womankind,” I corrected.

“So noted,” Tack muttered, lips twitching.

“But mostly, it was for Tabby.”

Tack’s eyes got sweeter and softer and his hand fisted in my hair.

Then he asked quietly, “You wanna move in with me?”

“Yeah,” I answered immediately.

“You attached to your house?”

“No.”

“Good, we’ll get you a car that does good in snow and move you up here.”

“Okay.”

“Start plannin’ that huge-ass wedding, baby. We need to get hitched. Rush is gonna be gone in a year. We need a baby in the house.”

At that, my belly melted.

“Okay,” I breathed.

“I hit the heart of you yet?” Tack asked.

“Close,” I whispered.

“Tastes sweet,” he whispered back and I felt my eyes get wet.

“Yeah,” I agreed quietly, “it does.”

I watched up close as Tack’s eyes heated then his hand at my head pulled me even closer and then we were making out.

This was what we were doing when we heard Rush say loudly, “Cool. You’re goin’ at it. After that fight last night, didn’t know what I’d come up to.”

Tack’s hand released my head and both of us looked over the backs of our chairs to see Rush in cutoff sweats, exposing a teenage boy-man body which laid testimony to part of the reason why he was a successful serial dater and his coffee mug joining us. I pulled in a calming breath and tamped down my mortification of getting caught making out as Rush pulled up a chair on the other side of his Dad and collapsed into it.

“I’m sorry you heard that, Rush,” I told him, he turned to me and grinned.

“You say fuck when you’re pissed nearly as much as Mom does,” he informed me.

Great.

“Though, you don’t throw shit or grab knives,” he muttered then his eyes slid to his Dad. “Bet that’s a relief.”

Tack chuckled.

Chuckled!

“Knives?” I breathed.

“Long story,” Tack replied.

“Or, stories,” Rush clarified.

“Naomi wielded a knife on you?” I asked Tack.

“Knivezzzz, plural,” Rush answered.

“Holy crap,” I whispered.

“Right, quit freakin’ out Tyra,” Tack muttered. “Your sister up?”

“She will be, she smells bacon fryin’ and knows pancakes are comin’,” Rush threw out his thinly veiled request for his father to start cracking on breakfast.

“I’m not sure, honey,” I put in. “She had a rough night.”

“Uh, Tyra, you’ve eaten Dad’s pancakes. Rough night, wild night, hell night, you get up for Dad’s pancakes.”

I suspected this was true.

“Go check on her,” Tack ordered.

“A man takes a load off and right away, he’s ordered to put one back on,” Rush groused as he got to his feet.

“Boy, you just been sleepin’,” Tack returned.

“Whatever,” Rush murmured, humor in his voice as he slid inside.

If Tabby was up, I had little time.

Even if she wasn’t, Rush would be back soon so I still had little time.

So I didn’t delay in throwing it out there.

“Can I talk to her first?”

Tack looked hard at me. “You want to?”

“I think…” I hesitated then answered, “Yes, I want to.”

“You think what?”

I took in breath.

Then I told him, “I think, if I’m going to be around, that I broke her trust last night. And I think, since I am going to be around, I shouldn’t delay in getting it back.”

“How’d you break her trust?”

“She didn’t want to make it a big deal. I went off half-cocked and made it a big deal.”

“You’re a big girl, babe, and you get to make those decisions. She’s sixteen. She don’t get that yet nor does she get to be pissed at the decisions you make.”

“She gets whatever she wants, Tack. It’s her emotions and unless they’re handled with care, since she’s feeling a lot of them, it’s clear most of them are no good, she’s acting on them and not in good ways, that cycle won’t be broken unless they are. Her emotions handled with care, I mean. Not to mention, I don’t think she has a woman she trusts, she was giving that to me, I took it away and I have to give it back.”

“You got a plan of attack?” he asked.

“No, I’m going to wing it,” I answered.

“Then yeah, you talk but I’m here. So’s Rush. Sortin’ Tab’s shit is a family thing,” he declared and I sucked in a sharp breath.

A family thing.

“Red?”

“I waited a long time,” I whispered.

“For what?” he asked.

“For you.”

I watched a shadow darken his face.

“You do not get to do that shit,” he growled and I blinked.

“What?”

“Make me wanna pick you up, carry you to my bed and fuck you hard to show my appreciation for bein’ so damn sweet I got a toothache, a fuckin’ toothache I fuckin’ like when I got pancakes to make and a daughter’s shit to sort.”

“Oh,” I whispered.

“Fuck, I’m not even close.”

“To what?”

“The heart of you. You run so fuckin’ deep, I’ll never get there.”

God.

“Lookin’ forward to a lifetime of diggin’, babe.”

God!

“Now you’re being sweet,” I accused, my voice wobbly.

“Used to it yet?”

“No.”

“You got a lifetime to get there too.”

Seriously.

I could take no more.

“Shut up.”

“I will, you kiss me.”

“Rush and/or Tabby might be here any minute.”

“I didn’t tell you to go down on me.”

My eyes narrowed and I couldn’t see it but even I knew it was ominously.

“Tack!”

“Kiss me, Red.”

“Tack!”

“Fuck it,” he muttered, shifted, leaned into me, hooked me at the back of my head and then he kissed me.

I was sitting in my chair, tingling from top-to-toe and Tack was moving into the house with both of our mugs to refill as Rush slid by him to come out, muttering, “She’s gettin’ up.”

So Tack got his kiss before Rush came back.

And I got to sit in the Colorado sunshine knowing without a doubt I had my hands straight up in the air, tucked so secure, I was safe to enjoy the ride.

It was Sunday afternoon and I was pressed close to Tack on his bike because we were heading down into Denver. Sheila had got a wild hair and decided to throw a barbeque so she made enough potato salad for the entirety of Chaos and bossed Dog into manning the huge barrel grill outside the Compound.

So we were heading down to get our bratwurst and commune with the brethren on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

The sun was shining, the wind was in my hair, I was pressed close to my man, heading toward a grilled brat and life was sweet.

And as we rode, my mind was running over the day before and my lips were smiling.

Not long after Tack left the deck, Rush returned to it, I came to terms with the fact that I was a roller coaster type of girl and was reflecting on the fact that not only was Tack’s house awesome, there was no lawn to mow, it occurred to me that Tack was taking a long time refilling my coffee.

So I’d turned my head, looked over the back of my chair and into the kitchen.

And what I saw cemented in my mind that I’d made the right choice over tequila six weeks before.

Because I saw Tack and Tabby in the kitchen. Tack had his ass against the kitchen counter, his body facing the deck and his girl in his arm. She had both arms around her Dad, leaning in, her cheek to his chest. His arm was high, his strong hand curled around one of her shoulders and his lips were to the top of her hair. He kept them there as I watched and I knew he was talking to her. I couldn’t see all of his face but I guessed he was doing it gentle-like. And I figured it was a good guess because Tabby’s eyes were closed and her face was soft.

I turned away, giving them their moment.

“Jealous,” Rush muttered and I looked from the view to him.

“Pardon, honey?” I muttered back and he looked at me.

“Mom. Jealous of Tabby.”

I said nothing but held his eyes, a non-verbal cue that if he wanted to talk, I was listening.

He wanted to talk.

“Don’t know, but it’s never been good. Thought on it, it’s been so bad. I always thought it was because she don’t get along with her Mom because Gram is awesome with us but she’s even now a bitch to Mom so Mom don’t know any better. But I don’t think that’s it. I think she made bad decisions in her life and Tabby’s got her whole one ahead of her. Mom can’t go back. Tabby’s got time and that’s what Mom wants.”

I nodded because this made sense.

Rush kept talking.

“She’s my sister but it ain’t lost on me she’s also hot so good-lookin’ and young, double threat for Mom.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” I began, “but if you want to, I’d like to know what ‘never been good’ means when it comes to Tab and your Mom.”

He shook his head, looked at the view but shared, “Just always on her ass. My room’s a mess, Mom never says a word. She’s always up in Tabby’s face to clean hers. When we lived there, Mom washed my clothes. Told Tabby years ago it was her responsibility to do hers. I play music loud, Mom don’t say shit. Tabby does or she’s on the phone or somethin’, Mom shouts at her. Never leadin’ into it, she just loses it right off the bat. And, when she hit high school, it got worse.” Rush looked at me. “Tab’s popular. Gets a lot of attention. Drives Mom crazy. Mom’s convinced she’s a slut.”

His eyes grew contemplative and his gaze slid to the view.

“She’s not a slut, honey,” I said gently.

“Seein’ an older guy,” Rush muttered.

“Sometimes, you get told enough you are what you aren’t, it gets in your head and you make it a self-fulfilling prophesy even if you really aren’t that.” Rush looked back at me. “She isn’t that,” I whispered. “She’s just in trouble enough for not being it, she probably thinks she might as well do it since she’s in trouble for it anyway.”

Rush took a moment to consider this and I let him.

Then he murmured, “Makes sense.”