Motorcycle Man
Page 9

“Um… could you not sit on my desk?” I requested.
“No,” he replied.
“I asked nice,” I told him.
“Answer’s still no,” he told me.
I stared up at him. He stared down at me. He didn’t look serious like he looked outside before I left him, Dog and Brick. He didn’t look laidback and amused either. I didn’t know what he looked like but I sensed everything was not okay.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“No,” he answered with surprising honesty.
Oh boy.
Perhaps there was dissent in the ranks of the Chaos MC. This was probably not good. And it was probably even more not good if you were the president of the Chaos MC.
And because of this, for some insane reason, likely because I found the consumption of donuts soothed a variety of things that were not so good, I found myself asking, “Do you want a donut?”
He stared at me a beat and he did this with a strange intensity, something I did not get working behind his eyes.
Then, before I got it, he answered, “No.”
“Have you had breakfast?”
“It’s after ten o’clock, Red.”
“Have you had breakfast?” I repeated.
“No.”
“Then you need a donut.”
“I don’t need a donut.”
“Okay,” I gave in. “Do you want coffee?”
“No, babe, I don’t want coffee. I don’t want a donut. I want to sort out this order, get it sent and then I got shit to do.”
I now knew what he looked like because he sounded like it too and that was impatient.
“Okeydoke,” I whispered and turned to the screen.
This was a mistake because one second later, I felt Tack’s heat against my back. I felt this because he’d leaned in close. Then his hand covered mine on the mouse, his finger settling on mine, pressing in to click as he moved out of the order screen and back to the menu. Then, without a word or any instruction, he continued clicking through the screens, ordering the parts he needed, upping the numbers when necessary by clicking on arrows then he went to our on-line basket and removed practically everything I’d added that morning. He did this quickly, with practiced ease and the only time it took was waiting for the different screens to load.
“Uh…” I mumbled when I fought back the haze created by the rapidly flashing screens filling my eyes. “I’m not learning anything.”
“You learn somethin’, you don’t need to come to me to help you.”
I blinked at the screen. Then I twisted my neck to see his profile right there. And it was a very attractive profile. Not to mention he smelled good, a mixture of motor oil, musk and man.
Damn.
“I’d rather know what I’m doing,” I told his profile.
He kept clicking, his eyes on the screen when he replied, “And I’d rather watch you strut your ass to wherever I am when you need to sort somethin’ out.”
“Tack –”
His head turned, I got a full frontal of his face up close and stopped speaking.
“Red,” he said softly. “You entered the game, it’s my game, babe, you play it my way.”
“I don’t want to play games,” I told him.
“Oh yeah, you do,” he told me and I shook my head.
“I want to do my job,” I stated.
“You get to do that too,” he returned.
“Not very well, if I don’t know what I’m doing,” I said. “It’ll be annoying to have to find you every time I run up against something I don’t understand.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
I stared at him, feeling my blood pressure rising then I pulled my face back an inch and his hand on mine on the mouse tightened.
“Listen, seriously,” I started. “This is ridiculous. Can’t we just move on?”
“No.”
Argh!
“All right, fine.” I set my face and turned it to the computer screen, announcing, “You’re not the only person here who knows cars and bikes. Brick said he’d help. I know Lenny knows what he’s doing considering he’s a mechanic or a body guy or something but whatever he is, he is what he is around cars so he has to know what he’s doing. They might even be able to decipher your handwriting. I’ll be perfectly fine.”
“You ask anyone for help, Red, not only you but they’ll answer to me,” Tack warned. I tore my eyes from the screen to look at him to see he was gazing at the monitor then his finger pressed mine and the mouse clicked.
I looked back at the screen to see it said our order was submitted.
“Tack! You submitted the order and I didn’t even get a chance to scrutinize it!” I snapped.
“Babe, have you not been listening?”
I turned to glare up at him, yanking my hand from under his on the mouse then instantly finding it caught, his fingers curling around mine tight and then my hand was resting on his rock-hard thigh.
Crap.
“Tack,” I clipped, still glaring at him and now pulling in vain on my hand.
He ignored me and said outrageously, “I gotta go. Tip your face back further for me, baby, I wanna give you a kiss before I do.”
My stomach plummeted in a way that wasn’t altogether unpleasant even as I felt my eyebrows rise as did my voice. “Are you nuts?”
“No,” he replied calmly, his eyes moving over my face and settling on my mouth before he muttered, “Remember your mouth. It was near as sweet as other parts of you.”
Ohmigod!
I felt my eyes narrow mainly because he was too much and none of the too much he was was good.
I yanked at my hand. His fingers curled tighter and his other hand came up to wrap around the side of my neck as his upper body started coming toward me. Therefore, I pulled at my neck at the same time I yanked at my hand. This not only didn’t work, it made him slide his fingers around to the back of my neck, pulling up as he bent closer and he lifted my hand from his thigh to press it against his chest.
I was watching his face get closer, specifically his amazing lips surrounded by his kickass goatee. My mind took that unfortunate moment to remind me that I’d never had a man with facial hair prior to Tack and I’d liked the feeling of those lips with that goatee on various parts of me. In fact, every part they’d touched. And it was then we heard the door open.
Both our necks twisted to see a woman was standing in the door. She was pretty, with wild red hair that had liberal streaks of very fake blonde which I couldn’t decide in that instant if I thought looked good or kind of skanky. She also had clear, light blue eyes. She was wearing biker babe apparel of jeans, high-heeled boots and tight scoop-necked t-shirt with four buttons at the neckline, all of them undone exposing cle**age.