When my eyes swung through Tack, Dog and Brick I saw that they, too, no longer looked laidback and welcoming and they, too, looked more than a little scary.
Yikes!
It was then Tack’s arm gave me a squeeze and I looked up at him to see his head tipped down to me.
“Back to the office, Red. I’ll be in in a minute to go over this with you.”
I saw his face was serious and although this was an order, it was voiced quietly, even gently and thus it felt weirdly sweet.
Therefore, I said quietly back, “All right, Tack.” I looked at the boys. “Later, guys.”
“Later, babe,” Dog murmured to me but his neck was twisted to the two men who were now close.
“Later, girl,” Brick muttered, he also was watching the two men.
Tack let me go. I smiled politely at the two men who were now stopping at the biker huddle then I turned and skedaddled across the cement of the forecourt, my heels clicking loudly as I went all the while wondering what in the hell that was all about.
Chapter Four
Do You Want a Donut?
I was plagiarizing an Employee Handbook I’d downloaded from the Internet when the outside door to my office opened and sunlight shone through around the dark outline of Tack’s body.
Great, I thought.
“Hey,” I said.
“Red,” he replied and walked toward me, demanding, “Call up the order.”
“Okeydoke,” I muttered, professional efficiency personified. I turned back to the computer screen and started clicking the mouse to call up the order. The screen with the order on it was loading when I felt movement close to me and heard papers rustling. I twisted my torso and looked up to see Tack plant his ass smack on the top of my desk, pinning me in my chair turned toward the computer with his muscled thigh.
“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.