Motorcycle Man (Dream Man #4)(83)
“Good, baby,” he said softly in a way that communicated he liked that too then he carried on, “Be by around five.”
“Right.”
“Later, babe.”
“Tack?” I called quickly to catch him before he disconnected.
“Yeah?”
I looked at my shampoo bottle.
Then I said, “My shampoo bottle is bright orange.”
“Say again?”
“My shampoo bottle is bright orange.”
“Right. And you’re tellin’ me this because…?” he trailed off.
“Because I’ve been using this brand of shampoo for years and I never really noticed what color the bottle was. Not once.” I drew in breath. “Until you.”
Silence then a soft, very sweet, “Darlin’.”
“See you at five, honey.”
Again sweet, “Five, babe.”
“Later.”
“Later.”
We disconnected.
I reached and grabbed a bottle of conditioner.
Same style bottle as the shampoo but it was beige.
It was the lettering that was bright orange.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cool Whip
“Bye!” I shouted, standing outside Tack’s front door, Tack behind me, his arm tight around my chest and I was waving away Dog and Sheila, the last of Chaos to leave our impromptu Friday night party at Tack’s place.
Sheila, who I loved and who was on the back of Dog’s bike, shifted to lift her arm to wave back.
“Later!” I yelled as they made their way down Tack’s lane.
It was three weeks since I told Tack, drunk and turned on, that he colored my world and then confirmed it, hungover and with my wits about me, while standing in Ulta holding a shampoo bottle.
Three great weeks.
I didn’t screw up at work (much).
No one had been kidnapped.
Naomi had been laying low.
Lanie and Elliott were somewhere Tack assured me was safe and we still had our secure phones so I could talk to her.
After I sent my e-mail to Aunt Bette giving her the news that Tack and I worked it out, neither she nor Uncle Marsh lost their minds.
And Kane “Tack” Allen had proved he could handle me with care which further proved he was absolutely, without a doubt, my dream man.
Now it was now. I was at Tack’s. Tab and Rush were out, Tabby at a party and she was spending the night with a girlfriend. Rush was on a date which was a double feature at the drive-in and he wouldn’t be home until late.
Hop, Brick, Dog, Boz and Hound, all members of Chaos, and their women had come up. We drank beer. We shot tequila. We ate chips out of the bag (I didn’t even put them in bowls!). We dipped those chips in jars of store bought dip that I also didn’t put in bowls. We laughed. We played music loud. Some of the boys and girls smoked pot though Tack didn’t and they didn’t press it on me. I thought that was cool since I was riding a happy vibe and didn’t want to discover the consequences of saying no to a high biker. And the night ended when most of the couples started making out (yes, even Tack and me) so Tack gave the sign that the party was over (he did this by announcing, “The party’s over”) and the boys loaded the girls up on their bikes.
It was a blast!
Now it was late and Chaos was gone and I was standing outside Tack’s wondering when I became the woman who would serve chips in a bag and then make out relatively hot and heavy with her man with a bunch of bikers and their babes in attendance.
Then I quit wondering because I was tipsy, happy, Chaos was gone and the real party could commence.
When Dog and Sheila disappeared, Tack released my chest but grabbed my hand and tugged me into the house. Then he shut the door and locked it.
This done, he turned me into his arms.
“You drunk?” he asked a question he knew the answer to, grinning his sexy grin down at me.
“Yep,” I answered, rounding him with my arms, leaning into him and allowing his sexy grin to do a number on me.
“How drunk?” he asked, still grinning down at me and I rolled up on my toes, pressing close and holding him tight.
“Smashed.”
“Good,” he muttered, let me go but grabbed my hand again and dragged me to the refrigerator.
There, I watched him open the door and tag a tub of Cool Whip.
“What’s that for?” I asked as he closed the door.
His eyes came to me.
Looking in his eyes, I knew what the Cool Whip was for.
Then I got a top-to-toe tingle that I fancied shimmered straight off my skin.
I grinned.
Tack didn’t grin. He tugged on my arm and dragged me down the hall to his bedroom.
Dinner was chips and dip, beer and tequila and good company.
Dessert was Cool Whip and Tack.
In other words, dessert was the bomb!
* * * * *
I woke naked, draped over Tack, smelling the musk of him I loved, feeling sluggish, mildly hungover and definitely sated.
I didn’t know the time since Tack didn’t have an alarm clock.
“Babe, I get up when I get up. Don’t need a machine tellin’ me what to do.” This was Tack’s explanation of not having an alarm clock and seeing as he was an early riser, it worked for me as when he rose, he saw to it I did too. Therefore, I couldn’t find out the time.