Tacker (Arizona Vengeance #5)(46)

“I’m a lucky girl,” I murmur, then gasp as Tacker manages to execute a flawless one-hundred-eighty-degree spin that puts me moving backward now. Just a few steps, though, then he’s spinning me once more to our original positions.

“You’re really good,” I say with a laugh. “If hockey doesn’t pan out, maybe you could rent yourself out at nursing homes and give little old ladies a spin around the dance floor.”

“Smartass,” he replies affectionately, and we continue to dance. Sometimes, his teammates make catcalls at us, all liberally taking the opportunity to tease the man who was such a recluse.

He ignores them all.

It’s a moment we share that’s sweet and fun and lighthearted. Until he says something that makes it not so.

“MJ didn’t want to have kids,” he says out of the blue, causing me to stumble over his foot.

Tacker’s strong arms right me, and we fall back into our gait. I study him a moment, take in his expression. It’s not sad or angry. His tone is even and matter of fact. It’s a statement he would make in counseling, yet the mere fact he’s brought it up while we’re dancing in a public place makes it hard to pinpoint exactly what he might be feeling right now.

Regardless, it’s something on his mind, perhaps because I had just mentioned my own friends having kids. I don’t know if he wants me to be a counselor or friend, but regardless, I give him my undivided attention.

“Was there a particular reason why?” I ask, trying to push him along what is a sensitive topic.

Tacker shrugs, his gaze going over my shoulder a moment before coming back to me. “Said she wasn’t the motherly type, was scared of childbirth, wanted to concentrate on her career, didn’t want to interfere with her time with me. Take your pick.”

“Many women choose not to be mothers,” I say.

“I know,” he replies softly. “No judgment against her. But it was a bone of contention with me.”

“You two fought about it?”

He shakes his head. “No, nothing like that. Just two polar opposite ideas of what our long-term relationship would entail. I just figured one day she’d change her mind, and I decided to be patient about it.”

“That can be a huge divide to overcome, especially if it’s something you really wanted and she had never gotten there,” I point out.

“Guess it’s moot now, right?” he says glibly.

My voice is gentle and soft, so I step in just a little closer so he can hear me. “It is moot now. So why did you bring it up, Tacker?”

He doesn’t answer right away, instead spinning me around once again. When I’m righted, he says, “I’ve been thinking about things lately… about life without MJ and what that means going forward. And something that has been on my mind is if I were to… have a relationship again… children would be back on the table.”

“I see,” I murmur.

“Is that wrong?” he asks. “Because I’ve been struggling hard not to let guilt weigh me down.”

“It’s not wrong,” I assure him. “You have your whole life ahead of you, and you should lead it without using your past relationship as a measuring stick.”

To my surprise, Tacker pulls me in extremely close to the point our torsos are almost touching. Since the two-step is a gait of mutual reliance and we have to be in sync, our legs touch as we move along. He’s steady and surprisingly graceful, and I just let myself be carried away by him.

We make the circle around the perimeter two more times, just silently dancing oh so close together.

When the music dies, Tacker brings me to a gentle stop. We’re in a crowd of people, and the moment has ended.

Mutually, we both start to pull away from each other, but it’s done in such an incredibly slow manner that there’s no denying we’re both silently saying we don’t want to let the other go.

This is just so wrong on my part.

Like that day we hugged in my kitchen on my birthday, my cheek scrapes against his, then our faces are close as our eyes connect.

“It would be so easy to kiss you right now,” he murmurs, and my head absolutely spins with not only the possibility, but also the terrible implications regarding my duty as his counselor.

“But we can’t,” he says, continuing to draw away until there’s a safe distance between us. He looks at me without apology. “It would be wrong.”

“So wrong,” I agree with utter disappointment in my voice.

He hears it. It makes him smile thinly, and disappointment is visible in his expression.

“You about ready to head home?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I reply, not wanting to leave him at all.

But I have to.





CHAPTER 20




Tacker


I’ve found that by wearing a bandana around my face, that horseshit doesn’t smell as bad. Or rather, it doesn’t permeate my nose as well.

I’m on the last stall in the gray barn, and I’m proud of myself. When I’d shown up at Sh?rim Ranch a few hours ago, Nora was in a counseling session in her office. She didn’t know I was coming because I’m not on her schedule, but I wasn’t overly bothered she wasn’t readily available. I’d come to do some volunteer work, deciding to spend some of my free time helping out around the ranch. Besides, I’ve started to really like Raul, and I don’t want to see him drop dead from overexertion.