Motorcycle Man (Dream Man #4)(109)

“Got it all scheduled,” he noted.

“Yes,” I returned.

“What’s a huge-ass wedding?”

“Don’t ask that,” I advised. “Just show up.”

His grin turned wicked and I liked it

That was, I liked it until he enquired, “You askin’ me to marry you, Red?”

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 f**kin’ 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 motherf*cker’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 f**k 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.