Motorcycle Man (Dream Man #4)(37)

“Nothin’ better, not even his fajitas,” Rush put in.

“Babe, get your ass in the kitchen so I can feed you and my kids and get on the road,” Tack ordered while sauntering toward my kitchen.

His kids followed.

I stood in the hall and stared. Then I blinked. Then I stared some more. Then my body came unstuck and I motored into the kitchen to find Tack at the stove, Rush on Lanie’s barstool and Tabby’s head in the fridge.

I went direct to Tack and got close to his side seeing he was pouring perfect, silver dollar pancakes on my griddle.

“Can I talk to you?” I asked quietly.

His head turned and he looked down at me.

“Yeah,” he answered but otherwise didn’t move.

“Elsewhere,” I defined my request.

“Then… no,” he said through a grin.

I opened my mouth to make my request sound more like a demand when a loud banging came at my door. It was so loud, my body jerked in surprise and Tack’s head whipped around.

“What the fu –?” he started to mutter when we heard, “Open this motherf*cking door!”

Ohmigod! It was Naomi.

More loud banging, so loud and violet I was uncertain my door could withstand it and I wondered if some of it was kicking then, “I know you’re all in there! I saw you go in there! Open this goddamned motherf*cking door!”

Through this, Tack crashed down my fabulous, pink, Williams Sonoma mixing bowl with the little pouring thing-a-ma-jig in the lip, shoved the griddle off the burner, turned and stalked out of my kitchen.

Oh boy.

I hurried after him and I felt Rush and Tabby at my heels but we weren’t fast enough. Tack had the door open and he was standing in it. My body stuttered to a stunned halt when I saw Tack’s torso rock back because Naomi shoved a hand violently in his shoulder to push in. She took three steps in, turned to me, Rush and Tabby and I fancied I saw her head split right down the middle and fire pour out, such was her fury.

“You stupid, skank, whore!” she shrieked then came right at me.

I braced and she made an “oof” noise and bent double at the middle when Tack caught her at the waist and pulled her back at the same time Rush’s arm went around my waist (a fair bit more gently, I might add), and he pulled me behind him.

Tack positioned himself between Naomi and me and planted a hand in her chest.

“Have you lost your f**kin’ mind?” he growled.

“Get out to your car!” she screeched at Tabby.

Tack was shoving her toward the door and she was fighting it but losing.

“Get the f**k outta here.” He was still growling, his voice low, deep, the gravel had turned to ice shards and it wasn’t directed at me but I still felt my skin rise in goose bumps.

“You do not spend time in that f**kin’ bitch’s home!” Naomi screamed, again, for some reason, at Tabby.

“Oh God,” Tabby whispered and her words were not filled with ice. They were filled with embarrassment.

Naomi landed against the door, Tack’s hand still pressed into her chest and his face got into hers.

“You follow them here?” he asked, his voice still scary.

“Fuck you!” she shouted in his face.

“You follow the kids here?” Tack barked in hers.

“They are not spendin’ time with your latest piece of tail!” she yelled.

“You’re tellin’ me you slunk out to your f**kin’ car and followed your kids to my woman’s house,” Tack stated.

His woman? When did I become Tack’s woman?

“Tabby’s already part-slut, spendin’ time around you and all your bitches. She don’t need to learn the high-class, fancy-ass way to spread her legs,” Naomi fired back.

I gasped, Rush made a noise like a growl and Tabby whimpered.

Automatically, my arm stretched back, searching blindly until I found it and then I wrapped my hand around Tabby’s, held it tight and moved back until the back of my side touched the front of hers. The minute it did, Tabby’s hand closed around mine like a vice.

“Did I just hear you?” Tack said in a soft, dangerous voice.

“You heard me, ass**le,” Naomi snapped.

“You’re tellin’ me I just heard you,” Tack gave her another opportunity to stand down.

“You heard me,” she clipped.

Another knock came at the door at the exact same time Lanie made her appearance.

“What on earth is going on?” she asked from the mouth of the hall wearing her shimmery, fabulous, short kimono, a towel wrapped around her head, her beautiful face and perfect bone structure no less beautiful with my pale pink terrycloth towel framing it.

Naomi looked around Tack at Lanie then back at Tack and she shrieked, “Fuck me, you buildin’ a harem?”

Another knock at the door.

Tack’s hand wrapped around Naomi’s arm and he yanked her from the door. Stepping back, he threw it open.

I peered outside and stared in shock at my favorite aunt, Bette, and favorite uncle, Marshall, who didn’t live in Denver. They lived outside DC.

Aunt Bette’s eyes were round and she took in the inhabitants of my living room, her gaze finally resting on me and I knew she’d heard Naomi but then again, how could she not?

“Uh… surprise?” she asked and Uncle Marshall pushed in, shoving his wife in with him as Tack took a couple of steps back, dragging Naomi.