Motorcycle Man (Dream Man #4)(32)

Fabulous.

Apparently, heartbreak and finding out your fiancé was a bad dude didn’t interfere with appreciating a fine male specimen. Good to know.

Before I recovered from my latest mortification that involved Tack, I felt his arm slide around my shoulders. My head came up when he curled me into his side and I saw that he was looking down at Lanie.

“How you doin’?” he asked gently.

“Uh…” Lanie answered, her eyes zipping back and forth between Tack and me.

“You need anything?” Tack asked.

“Uh…” Lanie answered, still doing the zipping thing.

“Ice cream?” Tack went on. “Whiskey?” he continued when Lanie shook her head. “Weed?” Luckily he stopped there.

“Uh…” Lanie repeated, her eyes settling on Tack.

“I think she’s good,” I finally answered for her.

“Yeah, uh… I think I’m good,” Lanie confirmed.

Tack pulled me closer, asking, “You done with Tyra for tonight?”

“Uh… sure,” Lanie said.

“Is that a sure, sure or is that a not so sure, sure?” Tack asked.

I looked up at him thinking he was being both very cool and very sweet. I didn’t know what to make of this coming from him.

“I think I’m cried out… for now,” Lanie told Tack.

“Right,” he said quietly. “Then I’m gonna steal her.”

“Okay,” Lanie agreed.

“You rest good,” Tack told her.

“Uh… okay,” Lanie said.

Tack didn’t speak for a beat then he said softly, “You’ll be all right.”

She blinked up at him. I did too.

Then he turned us to the door.

“Uh… ‘night,” she called to our backs.

I looked over my shoulder at her and replied, “’Night, honey. I’m right next door if you need me.”

“’Night,” Tack said, not looking back. He guided me out of the room, closed the door then he guided me to my room then he closed that door and curled me to him full frontal. I looked up at him and he asked, “How’d that go?”

“On the Drama Breakup with Your Fiancé Six Weeks Before the Wedding Because You Just Found Out He’s A Bad Dude Scale of one to ten that was a twenty-seven.”

Tack’s lips twitched.

I went on, “There’s a fourteen thousand dollar diamond engagement ring somewhere in my backyard.”

Tack’s lips stopped twitching because they curved upwards.

“Do you know where I can rent a metal detector?” I queried.

The curve turned into his sexy grin before he stated, “I’ll get one of my boys to find it.”

“That would be good considering she can hock that ring and add a room onto her house, make it a shrine to all the reasons she hates Elliott Belova.”

The sexy grin turned into a bigger, sexier smile that included the lines radiating from his eyes deepening and his face looking like he was fighting laughter.

It was a seriously good look and I got so lost in it, I didn’t notice it start to fade until his gentle voice came at me.

“You seem better.”

I pulled in breath through my nose. Then I told him, “I’m better because she’s going to survive and my hard part is done. Now I just have to offer support and that’s easy.”

He studied me again, his eyes moving over my face before they caught mine.

“You need sleep or you wanna know about this guy?” he asked.

I needed sleep. It had to be well beyond midnight and although my boss probably would understand if I called off and hung with my best friend the next day seeing as he was intimately involved in this drama, now that I was getting the hang of it, my job was pretty busy. Not to mention, the mechanics and body shop guys would not be good on their own. They needed direction. They also needed a listening ear. They further needed coffee and donuts. I missed donuts one day and I thought there was going to be a revolt. I had to get into Ride.

But I still wanted to know about Elliott.

“I wanna know about Elliott,” I told him.

He nodded and gave me a squeeze. “Get ready for bed, baby, I gotta make a call. I’ll meet you there and we’ll talk before we sleep.”

I blinked at him as he let me go, turned and walked out the door, closing it behind him.

What did he mean, get ready for bed, and I’ll meet you there and we’ll talk before we sleep?

The getting ready for bed part I could do. My getting ready for bed left me in nearly the same outfit I was in when Tack left the room. Except it was drawstring pajama shorts rather than jean shorts and there was no bra under my camisole. Therefore I did that part.

I was sitting cross-legged on my covers, rubbing hand cream in my hands when Tack returned, again closing the door behind him.

“Tack, maybe we should –”

I stopped speaking when his hands immediately went to the hem of his tee. Then it was up and gone and I had a full on view of his wide chest, tight abs and array of tattoos.

Holy heck. I forgot what a great chest he had. How broad his shoulders were. How much I really liked the definition of his collarbone. How much more I liked the ridges of his six pack. And how stupefyingly fascinating his tats were.