Page 43 of Tempt Me

“This could be a solid test,” Siobhan tells me. “You’re getting dropped into Tack’s life. I don’t know how long it’ll take to find and kill the person doing this shit. But while you’re hiding out here, you’ll be around Tack’s family. You can see what it’s like to be a club wife. If you don’t like it, why not find out now before you two get in deeper?”

“Do you think we can’t work?”

“I often imagine you two as old people fussing over your garden together,” she says and offers a soft smile. “But I fantasize about a lot of shit that never happens. Although I did often daydream about Natasha coming back to Banta City and giving Bear a second chance. Since that happened, I might be psychic.”

Carys grunts and eases into a standing position. “I need to get inside in front of a fan. The last weeks of pregnancy are like a full-on betrayal by my body. I can’t sleep, eat, or shit without feeling miserable.”

“I remember that misery,” Siobhan says and opens the farmhouse’s door for her sister.

“One time and you didn’t even go nine months. You’re a wuss.”

The sisters bitch at each other while I grab Carys’s seat cushion and follow them inside. Before I let the screen door shut, I look back at Tack. His gaze meets mine and holds it. I return his smile, but my mind is on the dog sitting at his feet.

Dinner is soon provided by the club wives who bake chicken and make enough mashed potatoes to feed a small army.

Throughout the evening, I follow Siobhan around everywhere. Tack sticks close, but he rarely speaks. He’s never been a chatty man around me. Is that why he hid his dog?

As darkness swallows up the farm, Siobhan heads to the main farmhouse, where she bunks with her girls while Sync sleeps on the floor. In the secondary farmhouse, I retire to Tack’s room. Sleep follows us and gets comfortable in his corner bed.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your dog?” I ask when Tack lingers at the doorway.

“I don’t know.”

Rather than let the subject drop, I tear up and point out, “We just talked about me buying a house so I could get pets. When I mentioned wanting a dog, you didn’t say anything.”

Tack just stares at me like a kid waiting for their teacher to stop bitching so he can go back to recess.

Maybe I ought to back down. I’m exhausted, and Tack is dragging. For most of the day, people have behaved as if the shootout was just this weird one-off thing that happened. The club might be accustomed to violence, but I’m not, and I need to rest. My mouth won’t be silenced, though.

“What else are you hiding?”

Tack exhales and fights an eye roll. I’ve noticed how when anyone calls him out, he tends to shut down and ice them out. That’s exactly how he behaved when I told him no years ago after I learned he was balls deep in the dangerous life he pretended to barely know. Tack acted as if I’d wronged him, and he didn’t need my judgment. Of course, he quickly switched gears and started hanging out with me again.

“I’m sinking here,” I tell him when his expression hardens. “I can’t go home to my condo. I can’t return to the estate. I watched a man I’ve known for years get torn apart. I worry I’m putting a target on everyone at the farm. I want more than anything to trust you. Except you’re hiding important facts about your life. Now, you’re acting like I’m a bitch for mentioning how you’ve kept secrets. Maybe I ought to take a car and drive myself to an airport in the next city. I could disappear for a while. Being here might be a mistake.”

“So, if I can’t be exactly what you want, you’ll leave me?”

“This is your dog!” I cry in my raspy voice. “How could you not mention him just last night when we were talking about pets?”

Tack shuts down right before my eyes. He simply closes off his heart, leaving me alone in the world.

“I get it, Tack. Your coldness is how you survived bad parents. I’m not bothered by how you respond to being put on the spot. What does bother me is how you’ve chosen to hide shit day after day with me. Why would you even do that?”

Tack doesn’t respond. He just stands near the door, staring at me like I’m both what he wants and the person most likely to destroy him.

Walking to him, I refuse to hide or suffer in silence. Tack is strong enough to face his own trauma and bad habits. He just chooses not to push himself.

“If you can’t talk to me right now, when I need you, then I’m sleeping on the couch. That’s how relationships work. There’s give and take. You can’t just turn yourself off until I shut up.”

“You’re you,” Tack spits out. “And I love most of you, but the rich girl part of you is scary. When I see how you live, I feel judged, so I hide things.”

“And you didn’t think I’d approve of your dog?” I ask and look at the mutt staring at us as if we’re a boring TV show he can’t turn off.

Tack doesn’t answer. Won’t answer, actually. Nothing is keeping him from explaining something as simple as his dog.

I collapse on the mattress and hide my face against my bare knees. An image flashes in my mind of Suzanne wearing a blonde wig. I see us traveling incognito, staying one step ahead of the enemy.

Whenever Tack focuses his affection on me, I’m certain I belong nowhere else in the world. But when he goes cold like right now, he tears away my armor and leaves me alone.

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