Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
But there was something in her tone—perhaps a bit of uncertainty tinged with a little fear—that formed an almost instant connection between us.
Much the same as I believe happened between Nora and me yesterday when she told me about what happened to her family. Christ, it’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard about that happened to someone I know. It instantly made me realize she’s not full of shit when it comes to her beliefs, and that perhaps there’s more outside of this little bubble of my world than I had anticipated.
And if I’m being honest, it humbled me. Made me realize that despite how bad I have it and how painful my loss is, that I’m not unique in any way. That “world is against me” feeling I’ve been carrying heavy on my back lightened a bit because the pain is now shared. The world is out to fuck over a lot of people. Perhaps the epiphany I need to be searching for isn’t in the why of it happening, but maybe in the where of the journey I’m on.
If I’m being beyond honest, I’m not all that anxious about meeting Nora this afternoon where she’s going to expect me to talk about the crash and MJ dying.
I nod at Dax, giving him a short but hopefully gracious smile. “Yeah… if Regan doesn’t mind, I’ll take that ride to the game.”
CHAPTER 9
Tacker
There’s a note on the door to Nora’s office that simply says, “In the barn”. I trot down the steps, hang a right, and head toward the gray stable. It’s gotten warm this afternoon, nearing eighty, which is exactly one of the reasons I love living in a place like Arizona in February. Come July, though, I’ll be hating it.
The double barn doors are open on both sides, providing a view of the large pasture on the other end. There are a few people riding horses out there.
I don’t see Nora, so I start walking the length, glancing into the stalls as I move along. A horse sticks its head out, causing me to sidestep more toward the middle of the aisle.
Finally, I find her in the last one on the left, along with the older man who jumped my ass the other day. The door is open, and the horse is tied to a lead latched into a hook in the wall. I step inside the stall, but I keep my distance.
Nora’s on one knee at the horse’s front leg, lifting it to inspect the underside of the hoof. She tilts her head left and then right, peering closely at it.
Shaking her head, she runs her hand over the lower part of the leg, her teeth dug down into her lower lip and consternation on her face. Finally, she releases the horse and pushes up as she says to the man, “Your guess is as good as mine. Go ahead and call Dr. Jones. Let’s have her come take a look.”
The man nods, then lifts his chin toward me. Nora wheels around with a smile. “Hey, Tacker… glad you made it.”
“Something wrong?” I ask, nodding at the horse.
“Yeah,” she replies, worry in her tone. “He’s limping, but we’re not seeing anything obvious. So Raul will get the vet out to take a look.”
My gaze goes to the man, who stares stonily back.
“Oh, that’s right,” Nora exclaims, looking between us. “You two haven’t been formally introduced even though you’ve seemingly declared yourselves as enemies.”
My face flushes slightly at the accusation, particularly because Nora’s tone is completely teasing. The man staring back doesn’t give an inch.
“Raul… this is Tacker Hall,” Nora continues brightly. “And Tacker… this is my ranch manager and dear friend, Raul Vargas.”
Neither of us moves.
“I demand you two shake hands,” Nora says sweetly.
I don’t really have to do what she says, although I’d shake the dude’s hand. Really, I don’t have anything against him. He was looking out for Nora, and I get the concept.
He, on the other hand, is employed by her and owes her loyalty. He has to do what she says, so I wait.
Finally, he sighs and sticks a hand out, to which I grab and give a hearty shake.
Laughing, Nora motions for me to leave the stall, which I do, and she follows. “How are you feeling today?” she asks.
I turn to face her. “Pretty good. Actually skated with some teammates today, and it was good to be back on the ice.”
“Awesome,” she replies with a grin. “You feel up to a ride today while we talk, or would you like to maybe just help with some grooming?”
“Got to be honest, Nora,” I say with a sheepish smile. “I’m not a big fan of horses.”
Her head tilts, understanding smile in place. “What’s your fear?”
“Falling and breaking my neck? Getting bit? Kicked? Take your pick.”