Motorcycle Man

I looked back down at my phone and typed in, She’s taking off. He’s coming to me.

I sent my message and stared at the phone, not lifting my head and trying hard not to bite my lip or, say, have an embarrassment-induced seizure.

“Red,” I heard when my phone beeped in my hand and luckily I didn’t have to lift my head immediately because I was reading Lanie’s latest message.

Escape, Tyra, go, go, go!!!!

“Red,” I heard from closer and I finally lifted my head to see that Tack was three of the eight steps up and climbing toward me.

He looked good. Everything about him looked good. The way his clothes fit. The way his hair looked like he’d just got out of bed and run his fingers through it. The way those lines radiated out the sides of his eyes. The way his body moved.

Nope, I couldn’t be a slut. I should have listened to Lanie.

“Hey,” I forced out.

My skin started burning and I was pretty sure it was pink top-to-toe as his eyes slid the length of me. When he made it to the top of the steps, he looked down at me and he didn’t look happy.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he asked.

I stared at him, surprised. I mean, I’d told him on Saturday night I was his new office manager.

Didn’t I?

So I said, “I work here.”

“You what?”

“I work here.”

His eyes did a top-to-toe again then he repeated after me, “You work here.”

“Yes, Eloise hired me. I’m taking over for her. I’m your new office manager.”

He stared down at me and he didn’t look any less unhappy. In fact, he looked unhappier.

Then he stated, “You’re shittin’ me.”

I fought against biting my lip again, succeeded and shook my head.

Apparently, Tack wasn’t a big fan of working alongside women he’d loved and left. Or, in my case, loved and then kicked out of his bed.

I found this interesting, not in a good way but it was interesting nonetheless.

Then Tack announced, “You don’t work here anymore.”

I blinked up at him as my hand automatically reached out and grasped the railing beside me.

“What?” I whispered.

“Babe, not good,” he growled. “What the f**k were you thinkin’?”

“About what?” I asked.

He leaned in and it hit my fogged, stunned, fired before I even started brain that he was even unhappier than before and I had to admit, it was a little scary.

“I do not work with bitches who’ve had my dick in their mouth,” he declared and that was when my skin stopped burning and felt like it was combusting.

“But,” I started when I could speak again, “I thought I told you I was your new office manager.”

“You did not,” he returned.

“I’m pretty sure I did,” I told him.

“You didn’t,” he replied.

“No, I think I did.”

He leaned even closer to me and growled, “Red. You. Did. Not.”

“Okay,” I whispered because he was now definitely scaring me but also because I actually wasn’t pretty sure I did, I was just kind of sure I did.

“I do not f**k anyone who’s got my signature on their paycheck,” he again made his opinion perfectly clear and my mind raced to find a solution to this new dilemma at the same time it struggled with fighting back the urge to run as fast as I could to my car and peel right the heck out of Ride Custom Cars and Bikes forecourt and get as far away from this freaking scary guy as I could.

I mean, what was I thinking? I thought he was beautiful. Perfect. My motorcycle dream man.

Boy was I wrong. Very, very wrong. He wasn’t. He was a rough and ready motorcycle man, the president of a motorcycle club and he was downright frightening.

With effort, I pulled myself together.

Then I told him, “Okay, that works for me. Minor blip. We forget it happened and since it’s never going to happen again, we move on from this and you don’t have to break your no sleeping with employees rule in order to, um… employ me.”

“We forget it happened?” he asked, looking even angrier.

“Uh… yeah,” I answered.

“The rule’s broken, babe, no unbreaking it,” he returned.

“It’s not broken,” I told him.

“Red, it’s broken.”

“It isn’t.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t,” I stated and he opened his mouth to speak again, his face hard, his eyes flashing and I quickly went on to explain my reasoning. “See, you said you don’t sleep with anyone who’s got your signature on their paycheck. Eloise hired me but I hadn’t actually started. So, I didn’t have your signature on my paycheck because I’d only had the job offer. I wasn’t actually doing the job. I walk in that door,” I pointed to the office door, “that’s when I’m your employee and since we’re not, erm… you know… and won’t again, then, technically, you didn’t break your rule and, um… won’t.”

“I know what you taste like,” he informed me of something I already knew.

This was an odd and slightly rude thing to share so I had no response.

“And what you sound like when you come,” he continued being rude.

This was not getting better and I clenched my teeth to stop myself biting my lip.

“And how f**kin’ greedy you are,” he went on. “Babe, you think you’re around I’m not gonna want seconds, you’re f**kin’ crazy.”

I blinked.

Then I asked quietly, “What?”

“Darlin’, you’re the greediest piece of ass I’ve had in my bed in a long f**kin’ time. I got a taste for greedy, you think I’m not gonna take it?”

Now he was definitely being rude.

“I’m not greedy,” I whispered.

He leaned back. “Jesus, you f**kin’ are. So f**kin’ hungry, you nearly wore me out. And, darlin’, that’s sayin’ something.”

This was already not fun and it was getting less fun by the second.

“Can we not talk about this?” I requested.

“Yeah, absolutely, we can not talk about this. That works for me. It also works for me you showed since you didn’t leave your number before you took off on Saturday. So give me your number, get your ass in your car and I’ll call you when I got a taste for you.”

Oh my God. Did he just say that?