At his reply, I stopped breathing.

Approximately a nanosecond later, he stopped us at his bike.

I forgot about Tack f**king me until I stopped breathing and stared at his bike as I drunkenly swayed.

“I’m not going to be able to get on that thing,” I informed him as he swung a leg around.

“Climb on,” he ordered when he settled in and was tinkering with starting the bike and my eyes went from his kickass Harley Dyna Glide to him.

“How?”

His eyes came to me. “How you always do it.”

“Tack!” I snapped then concentrated on enunciating, “I’m in a short skirt.”

“So?”

“So?” I asked back. “It’ll be indecent.”

“Not to me.”

“Tack –”

“Climb on.”

“Tack!”

He leaned toward me. “Babe, normally, you know practically anything you do makes me hard. Now, you’re drunk, you’re wearing that dress, those shoes and you got that hair and just lookin’ at you is doin’ a number on me. We need to get home. Fast. Climb… the f**k… on.”

I stared at him thinking, nice.

So I climbed on.

Although I was more than tipsy therefore it was wobbly and not the most graceful mount, it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Luckily no one was around so if there was a crotch shot to be had, there wasn’t anyone to witness it.

The instant my hands slid around Tack’s belly, the bike roared then we roared out of the parking lot. I held on tight and enjoyed the warm night air, the refreshing breeze, the feel of my soft body pressed close to Tack’s hard one and it seemed like we were at my house in seconds. This was unfortunate since during the ride I was thinking I could ride in the warm night air, pressed to Tack for years.

We got off, Tack grabbed my hand and walked up the walk. Since I was attached to him, I followed, carefully putting one foot in front of the other. At my front door Tack commandeered my keys and let me in. Once in, I immediately tossed my clutch across the room to the couch and turned to him. He was locking the door and the second he turned to me, I grabbed onto his tee and started walking backward, pulling him with me.

“Are we talkin’?” he asked and my hands in his tee yanked up fast and hard so he was forced to lift his arms so I could tug his shirt free. This I did.

I threw his tee to the side and latched onto his belt loops with my fingers, pulling him with me as I resumed walking backward.

This was when, stupidly, against Elvira’s good advice, I commenced our important talk and I did it not only drunk but recklessly.

“We’re multi-tasking because even if the results of our discussion means we’re over or I have to take you and only you and give up part of my life’s dream, we’re still enjoying the rest of the night and I’m not in the mood to waste time.”

Tack stopped dead and since he did, I was forced to do it too.

“Tack, we’re nowhere near the bedroom,” I pointed out.

“The results of our discussion could mean we’re over?” he asked.

I went still at the sound of his voice. Low, more gravelly than normal and somewhat sinister.

“I told you it was important.”

“The results of our discussion could mean we’re over?” he repeated.

Suddenly, what I said in my drunken state penetrated and I whispered, “Yes,” then said, “Maybe.”

“Fuck, how did drinks with the girls bring us back here?” he growled.

“You’re forty-one,” I told him.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Gwen told me,” I shared.

“And?”

“And…” I hesitated then carried on, “I want kids.”

“And?”

I blinked.

“And, well, you’re forty-one.”

“We covered that, Red.”

“Plus, you have two kids,” I reminded him.

“I know that,” he told me.

“And they’re almost grown.”

“This is also something I know.”

“So, I’m thirty-five.”

“Got your job application, babe, read it. I know that too.”

“So I have no time to waste,” I said softly.

“Say again?”

“My biological clock is ticking,” I explained.

His hands came up and curled around either side of my head as his head came down and his face got in mine. “We’re skippin’ this back and forth shit, babe. Spit it the f**k out.”

“I calculated it,” I told him and stopped speaking.

“Think I already told you we’re skippin’ the back and forth shit, Tyra,” Tack warned and I hastily went on to explain.

“I calculated it. If this works with wooing time, as it were, engagement, wedding, time alone together, by the time we could get down to making babies, you’ll be forty-three, forty-four. And you’ve got two kids already grown. You won’t want to start over.”

His hands slid down to the sides of my neck and he asked, “Who says?”

I blinked again and my heart jumped.

Then I whispered, “You want more kids?”

“Sure. I like kids.”

My heart leaped and my voice was pitched high when I asked, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“With, uh… me?”

“Seein’ as I’ve made it clear we’re buildin’ somethin’ here then the answer to that is, yeah. Not gonna go out and find another bitch and make babies with her when you’re in my bed.”

I lifted my hands to his chest and slid them down to his flat abs while I leaned into him and whispered, “Seriously?”

“Seriously, babe. What the f**k?”

“I really want kids, Tack, I always have and I was worried you wouldn’t want to do it all over again.”

His hands slid down and around so he was holding me while he stated, “Wasn’t hard the first time.”

I pressed closer to him, my hands sliding around his waist to wrap around his back as I said, “You’d know more than me but still. You’re a guy who lives wild and free. Your kids are almost grown so, when they finish growing and move on, you can be wilder and freer.”

“Baby,” he whispered, giving me a squeeze, “kids are not a ball and chain. There is no greater joy than creating a life, watching it grow and, while it does, helping it thrive. Didn’t feel stuck when God gave me Tabby and Rush. Kids are a big part of the ride of life. Not to mention one of the best parts of that ride. With the right woman, I’d be all over doin’ it again.”