“Right,” I whispered, intrigued but I’d let it go until chops. “So, I’m at your house tomorrow night?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you think of maybe asking if I’d like to be at your house tomorrow night?”

His lips twitched.

Then he said, “No.”

“Annoying,” I muttered.

“Yeah, you say that, baby. What you didn’t say was that you aren’t coming to my house tomorrow night.”

Damn. I was totally figured out.

I sighed.

Tack chuckled.

Then he squeezed me with his arms and dipped his face close.

“Give me that mouth again, babe, then get outta here.”

“Is the word ‘please’ in your vocabulary?”

“No, but you throw more attitude at me before givin’ me your mouth, tonight, that word is gonna be in your vocabulary and I’m gonna make you use it often.”

Oh boy.

That didn’t cause a quiver. That caused a quake and it shook me from top-to-toe.

“Babe,” he growled, “mouth.”

“Oh, all right,” I muttered, saw humor light his eyes then I gave him my mouth.

He took it and the way he did, that caused a quake too.

He’d let me go, turned me, scooted me toward the door with a hand at my ass and I was wandering there, slightly dazed by his kiss, slightly dazed by the girl posse’s visit but mostly dazed in a happy way I was hoping I was right about when I heard Tack call, “Red.”

I turned to him and my hand shot up automatically as he sent the key to the office I’d dropped on the desk sailing in my direction. Dazed, it was a miracle I nabbed it in the air but I did.

Then I stood at the door watching him pick up the envelope that contained the resignation letter I’d laid on the desk. Then I watched him rip it in half. Then I watched him toss it in the trash.

Finally, I watched his eyes settle on me.

Heated but it was again there.

Steely determination.

Instead of clenching, my heart grew light.

That felt a whole lot better.

I smiled at him and waited for Tack to smile back.

He did and it was great.

Then I walked out the door.

Chapter Eighteen

Really Glad He Did

“Can I say, I’m not sure about this?” I said into the “secure phone” Tack handed me when it rang.

My ass was on the counter in my kitchen close to where Tack was working. And my ass was there because Tack planted it there with a muttered, “Keep me company while I cook,” which was kind of an invitation but him doing it after lifting me up and planting my ass on the counter was more a command.

It was the evening after our showdown in the office. As promised, Tack came over with grocery bags full of food to make our dinner that I discovered was going to be chops, potatoes and green beans. The minute he closed the door behind him, he grabbed my hand, dragged me to my kitchen and planted my ass on the counter with his kind of invitation to hang with him while he cooked. So I was hanging with him while he cooked.

This was after I spent the day cleaning my house, doing yoga and opening the door to a scary looking, boy-man biker in training who introduced himself as Roscoe and was wielding a metal detector (it took him half an hour but he found Lanie’s ring).

I did all this while anticipating that night.

I didn’t have to think about my decision since both of us knew it was already made.

I was kind of scared.

I was mostly excited.

And I was excited because maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t wrong about Tack being my dream man.

But in the two weeks we’d been playing our game, things had been anything but normal. Your man coming over to make dinner with you knowing he was going to do it as well as understanding he was your man was normal.

I was scared of normal.

I was also excited about it.

And normal started out good. As I sat on the counter watching, Tack slid right into it like we’d known each other years rather than weeks and most of those years had been normal.

Though, he did it while unpacking food and preparing the potatoes which looked like they were going to be awesome. Sliced super thin, arranged in a casserole dish, layered with salt, pepper, paprika, pats of butter and minced garlic then smothered in cream and milk before he slid them into the oven. He also did this while telling me about Detective Mitch Lawson and his woman, Mara Hanover-very-soon-to-be Lawson (as they were engaged).

And what he told me was scary.

It also confirmed Mara Hanover-very-soon-to-be Lawson had an off-the-charts big heart.

But, although I got the drift that cops were not Tack’s favorite people, the way he told the story shared that Detective Mitch Lawson’s heart was so off-the-charts big, it needed its own zip code. Cop or no, Detective Lawson had Tack’s respect not for being a cop but for being a good man who took care of his woman and the two kids they’d taken under their wing.

When he was done, I was looking forward to getting to know Mara better. And I was hoping I’d meet Mitch.

That was when the phone Tack had placed on the counter rang. He grabbed it, picked it up and handed it to me.

“Yours. Burner. Secure. How you communicate with your girl. She’s callin’.”

Even though I didn’t fully understand a couple of his words, I wanted to kiss him. He’d arranged for me to have access to Lanie and that was thoughtful. It was also sweet.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to kiss him because checking in with Lanie took precedence. So I answered the phone and was assured by Lanie that she was okay after her abduction and interrogation. Then I was very not assured when she told me she and Elliott were planning to make their problems go away by disappearing.

Disappearing!

I didn’t even know what that meant. I just knew it didn’t mean good things.

This brought me to now, telling Lanie I wasn’t sure about this scheme (by the way, this was a massive understatement).

“Eli and I have talked about it, Ty-Ty, and it’s our only option,” Lanie replied.

I sucked in breath. Then my eyes slid to Tack who was at the stove making what appeared to be homemade stuffing that had sausage and mushrooms in it and, incidentally, also looked awesome. Unfortunately at that moment with the prospect of my best friend doing something bonkers, like disappearing, I suddenly wasn’t hungry.

His hand was holding a wooden spoon that was moving stuffing around in a pot but his eyes were on me.

“There’s another option,” I ventured carefully, my eyes holding Tack’s.

“What?” Lanie asked.