Tacker (Arizona Vengeance #5)(47)

At least that’s the excuse I’ve given myself for coming, so I never admit I really came to see Nora.

Even if it’s just a glimpse or a friendly wave of my hand.

I’m proud of the work I’ve done this morning because when I’d found Raul upon my arrival, he’d put me straight to work having to deal with the horses. While he gladly gave up shoveling shit duty in the stalls to me, he’d informed me that I’d have to lead each horse out on my own because “I don’t have time to be babysitting you, gringo.”

I’d snorted and laughed until I realized he wasn’t joking, then I’d reconsidered wanting to help out. Raul advised me that I’d have to lead the horse out of the stall in order to get in to clean it.

That meant I’d have to actually get near the horse. Touch it. Command it.

Not something I was really comfortable with.

I can’t explain my irrational unease around horses. I’d only been on the one with MJ when we were vacationing. Riding them on the beach seemed romantic to her, but my beast of an animal was huge and skittish around the waves coming in, constantly sidestepping and refusing to obey me. There was nothing fucking romantic about the experience at all.

But Raul showed me what to do. He calmly talked me through how to attach the lead to the halter, then guide the horse out of the stall. There were hooks on the wall with short leads to attach the horse along with a small hanging trough with hay they could munch on while I worked.

I noticed how he murmured Spanish words to the first horse he demonstrated on. The words were irrelevant, but his tone wasn’t. He was communicating to the animal, letting the horse know he cared for it and respected it. The horse followed his every command, and it gave me a little bit of confidence.

I’d managed to handle all five stalls on the one side, easily transferring each horse back and forth. By the time I got to the last one, I was thinking that perhaps I could be friends with these beasts.

“Good work, mijo,” Raul says from behind me.

After I finish sprinkling the last bit of fresh hay, I dust my hands off on the back of my jeans. I don’t even spare Raul a glance as I move out of the stall and over to the horse genially waiting for me to be done with his home.

Murmuring soft words under my breath, I run my hand along the brown fur on his back as I approach. Unclipping his rope from the hook, I lead the horse back into the stall, even guiding him around in a three-quarter circle so his head is facing the door. I do this mostly because I don’t want to be near his back end as I’m leaving, but when my eyes catch Raul as I ease out, his are filled with what I might even call a bit of pride.

“Getting over your fear,” he says with an appreciative nod.

While I hate to admit I’m afraid of anything, I have to accept his words as true. I was scared of the damn things, but I am getting more used to them.

Glancing down at my watch, I say, “I’ve got a few more hours before I have to get back. What else you got for me to do?”

We’ve actually got the day off today. Our next game is at home and not for two more days. So Coach told us to take a day of rest. He’d probably freak out if he knew I was here doing manual labor on a ranch with a freshly healed fractured wrist. The cast actually comes off tomorrow, and I can’t fucking wait.

But I do have dinner plans with Aaron tonight. Nothing fancy but a good opportunity to continue reconnecting with my best friend. I feel like I have amends that still need to be made for pushing him away after the crash.

“I’ve got nothing but beer to offer you,” Raul says with a smile.

“Gonna have to pass on that,” I say a chuckle. He knows I can’t drink. “But I wouldn’t say no to a bottle of water.”

Raul shuffles down the center aisle of the barn, and I follow. There’s a small room at the end. Inside it is a small desk, mini fridge, and two chairs. A window unit air conditioner chugs away, cooling the interior.

“Welcome to my office,” Raul says with a dramatic wave.

I step in and glance around. There’s nothing on the desk. No computer, no papers… nothing. “What do you need an office for?”

Raul shrugs. “No clue. Nora outfitted the desk and fridge for me. Tried to buy me a computer, but I hate the damn things and threatened to quit if she did. So I basically just come in here to cool off and enjoy a beer once in a blue moon when it gets too hot.”

“That’s legit,” I reply, making myself at home and walking over to the fridge. It’s stocked with beer, water, Swedish fish, and a lonely-looking apple. I nab a beer and water, closing the door with a bump of my leg.

Raul lowers himself into one of the chairs with a slight wince, and I wonder what part of him is hurting. I imagine at his age, while working on a ranch and doing physical labor, probably more than one part of his body is aching.

“You played really well last night,” Raul says, accepting the beer I hand to him before I sink into the other chair. “Even with that damn thing on your wrist.”

“Can’t wait to get it off.” I open the water bottle, then take a long pull.

“You looked light on your feet. Confident, too.”

A smile plays at my mouth. “I feel about a million pounds lighter these days. Guess that translates out on the ice, too.”

“Glad to hear it,” he replies, holding his beer up in a silent toast.