Motorcycle Man (Dream Man #4)(24)
“You should probably, maybe, uh… check that impulse when you’re behind the wheel of a car,” I advised Rush. “Speeding tickets are expensive.”
“No shit,” Rush grinned at me.
“You guys gonna shoot the shit with Tyra for the next four hours or are we gonna get a sandwich?” Tack cut in to ask.
Tabby jumped up and down twice, turning toward her father, shouting, “Sandwich!”
“I want enchiladas,” Rush declared.
“I’ll make fajitas tonight for dinner,” Tack told his son and I stared at him. The idea of rough and ready biker guy Tack in a kitchen cooking was something my mind violently wanted to expunge but it couldn’t because he’d said it.
“Rock on!” Tabby exclaimed, throwing both her arms in the air, fingers extended in devil’s horns. Then she whirled to me and dropped her arms. “You had Dad’s fajitas, Tyra?”
“Um… no,” I answered.
“Get ready to have your world rocked,” Rush stated. “Dad’s fajitas are the shit.”
“I, actually… uh, can’t make dinner,” I started, all eyes, including Tack’s, locked on me and Tack’s, I noticed, looked annoyed for reasons unknown since he hadn’t actually ask me to dinner. “I have a ritual that I never miss on Thursdays.”
“What’s that?” Tabby enquired, her head tilting to the side.
“Thursday Takeaway,” I told her.
“Thursday Takeaway?” Rush asked.
“Um… yeah,” I answered. “Tonight I’m doing Imperial Chinese. I’ve been looking forward to it since last Thursday.”
“Babe, you so totally don’t want to miss Dad’s fajitas. Imperial is sweet but Dad’s fajitas rock!” Tabby declared.
“Seriously,” Rush added.
“Red, get your purse,” Tack ordered.
“Actually, um… I already had lunch so you just go on without me,” I jerked my head to the door and smiled at Tabby and Rush. “But it was cool meeting you.”
“Babe, get your purse,” Tack repeated with a slight modification.
My eyes moved to him and I said quietly, “Tack, I have work to get done.”
“Get your purse.”
“But –”
“Purse.”
“I –”
“Purse.”
“I don’t –”
He bent a bit at the waist in my direction. “Purse.”
I finally snapped, “Tack!”
“Jesus,” he muttered then moved while speaking and where he moved was toward me. “You’re not payin’ anyway so you don’t need your f**kin’ purse.”
I had moved several inches away from the wall but I pinned myself against it again, now willing my body to dissolve through the wall but this also failed. I was in this position for approximately one point five seconds before Tack’s strong hand curled around mine, he yanked me from the wall then he dragged me across the room. Then he dragged me through his children. Then he dragged me out of the office and down the steps where he stopped me on the passenger side of a very cool, shiny black car.
“Keys,” he called, lifted his hand, tagged a set of keys Rush sent sailing through the air then he ordered, “You two in back. Tyra’s shotgun. I’m drivin’.”
Then he unlocked the door and used my hand in a forceful, not to be denied way where I had no choice but to plant my ass in the passenger seat. The minute my feet hit the floor, he threw the door to and rounded the hood. He opened his door, both his kids scrunched into the back and Tack folded behind the wheel.
I stared at the door to the office thinking, guess I’m getting sandwiches with Tack and his kids.
Um. Yikes!
Tack turned the ignition, the car’s engine growled in a totally kickass way and with no other choice, I twisted and grabbed the seatbelt.
Chapter Eight
Open
I sat tucked in the corner of my couch, my knees up, heels to the seat, plate wedged between my thighs and torso and I ate Tack’s fajitas which, just as Tabby said, rocked.
This was after I sat sipping a diet while Tack and his kids had sandwiches, chips and pops with Rush eating two huge chocolate chip cookies on top of that. Through this, Rush sometimes spoke, Tack sometimes interjected, I said a few words here and there but mostly Tabby chattered away, completely over her drama. She was talkative, animated, smart, charming and funny. This was the way she was but it was also the way she was around her father and brother, both of whom clearly adored her so she could safely blossom under their adoration and she did.
This was also something I didn’t need. Rush, the eldest at seventeen, nearly eighteen (Tabby just turned sixteen, upon which Tack gave her a car, the same as he did for Rush, this I learned while Tabby chattered away), I could see as he was her big brother. Tack, since he was her father and she was his only daughter, I could also see but that didn’t mean I wanted to see it.
Badass biker Tack smiling at, teasing and openly adoring his daughter was something I definitely didn’t want to see. One could say the messages Tack had been giving me since I met him were most assuredly mixed. One could also say the personalities Tack had been displaying since I met him were most assuredly multiple. I wanted to focus on the bad messages and scary or annoying personality traits. Tack being a loving father, close to both of his kids, openly respecting his son and definitely being Daddy to his little girl were neither of those.