Tacker (Arizona Vengeance #5)(49)

I wait for more, but nothing is forthcoming.

It’s then I realize it’s about what he doesn’t say.

No warning to stay away from Nora.

No reminder her career could be put in jeopardy.

Raul just stares, the gauntlet laid down at my feet.

The question now is if I am ready to move forward.

“Do you know where Nora is?” I ask as I push up from the chair.

“Up at the house,” he replies with a nod of his head in that general direction.

A grin comes to my face. “Okay. Thanks for the talk.”

Raul nods and I spin from him, heading for the door.

“Mijo,” he calls. While I’m not sure what that means, I know it’s an endearment of sorts.

I pivot in question.

“You hurt her, and I will kill you. Even though I like you, I will kill you very dead. Take your body out in the desert and dump it. No one will find you.”

I don’t laugh. He’s quite serious, and I respect him for it. “I’ll do my best.”

Raul nods, accepting my promise and taking another sip of his beer. I leave him, heading out of the barn and toward the main house.

When I reach the door, I take a deep breath, giving myself a moment to ask myself if I am truly ready for this.

I am.

But only if the woman is Nora.

I’m certain of that.

I knock on the door. In moments, I hear her footsteps approaching. She’s not surprised to see me there, giving me a welcoming hello.

“I saw your truck parked out by the barn earlier,” she says, stepping back from the threshold. “Raul told me you were cleaning stalls. That’s certainly a nice thing to do.”

It’s now or never, I tell myself.

Don’t overthink it.

I step through the doorway, walk right into Nora, and put my hands to her face. The fucking cast—which comes off tomorrow—is bulky and only lets the tips of my fingers touch her. But it’s enough. Dipping my head down, I firmly press my mouth to hers.

She gasps in surprise, jerking slightly, and I wait for her to pull away.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she opens her mouth, tilts her head, and lets me kiss her just a bit deeper. She tastes like sunlight and dreams, and I’d known that’s exactly what I’d feel when our mouths touched.

I take what she offers, but I don’t linger too long.

Way too much to talk about.

When I pull back, Nora wears a dazed expression. A mixture of delight and dismay. I can only imagine what’s running through her head.

“Did you like that?” I ask hesitantly.

She nods, her fingers brushing over her lips almost reflectively.

“Good,” I say triumphantly. “You’re fired.”

Now she gives a full-bodied jerk, her eyebrows shooting high. “I’m fired?”

“Yeah,” I say with a grin. “No offense to your skills, which are mad by the way, but if you’re not my therapist, then you’re not at risk of losing your license.”

“But Tacker,” she says with true concern in her voice. “You can’t just stop therapy.”

“I won’t,” I assure her. Not even an option because it’s required of me. “I’ll go see Dr. Dumbfuck.”

“But you didn’t like him,” she points out, her voice sounding slightly panicky. “It’s not wise to—”

Cupping her cheeks, I touch my mouth to hers again. It’s just as soft as last time, but I linger longer. I continue to kiss her until I feel her entire body relent. Reluctantly, I pull back.

Her eyes are closed, but they flutter open. I love that she’s even more dazed right now.

“If that felt like it meant something to you,” I say, speaking slowly so she understands the surety behind my words, “then let’s give this a chance.”

“What is this?” she asks gently, and I can see the worry is for a bit more than just her license now. I’m damaged goods. A risk to her heart.

“I don’t know, Nora. I just know that I feel very much alive when I’m near you or talking to you or kissing you. I know you’re the first person who has made me see the world in color again, and while you are an amazing therapist, that really has more to do with the person you are and not your counseling skills.”

Her gaze moves off to the side, and she nibbles at her lower lip a moment.

“That kiss meant something,” she admits, and my entire body relaxes in relief to hear her say that. “But I don’t know if this is a good idea, Tacker.”

“If I see another therapist, you won’t get in any trouble—”

Nora holds up her hand. “I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you.”

That gives me pause. Of course she’s worried about me. It’s her duty as my therapist. But I also know—because I can see it in the way she looks at me—that her worry extends to a deeper, more personal level.

Perhaps I need to be worried, too.

“Listen,” Nora says, taking a step back from me. “I have another session in about fifteen minutes, and I’m booked for the rest of the afternoon. But we have our regular counseling session tomorrow, so we’ll discuss this some more then.”

“That’s not going to work for me,” I say softly.