Tacker (Arizona Vengeance #5)(6)

Terrance actually sighs as if the softness of the horse is a pleasant surprise, and his lips curve upward.

“Awesome,” I praise, and he jerks his hand back.

That breaks my heart even more. He’s not used to hearing words of affirmation, so the wall goes back up around him.

Glancing toward Raul, I give a slight jerk of my head, indicating I’m ready for him. He pushes off the rail, ambles over to the gate, and enters the paddock.

“This is Raul,” I say as the old man approaches. “My ranch manager.”

Raul Vargas is the most important person at the ranch. He just turned sixty-seven a few months ago, and his face looks it because of all his years in the sun. But Raul is fit as a fiddle, more spry than most people half his age, and he’s a horse whisperer of extraordinary talent. He’s also my closest friend in the world. A father figure, for sure, but I can talk to him about things I never would have dreamed of talking to my own father about before he’d died.

“Raul’s going to show you how to groom Starlight,” I tell Terrance. “It will get you used to touching her and help her get used to your touch in return. It’s a relationship. Remember that.”

I’m surprised when Terrance murmurs, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Not ma’am,” I say affectionately, squeezing his shoulder. “Just Nora.”

“You got company,” Raul says, gesturing at something behind me.

Turning, I have to put a hand up to shield my eyes from the sun that even the wide brim of my hat doesn’t protect me from. A tall man stands on the other side of the paddock. I can’t make out his features, but I know who he is.

Tacker Hall.

I’d been expecting him to show up at any time, which is why I’m turning Terrance over to Raul right now.

Looking back over my shoulder, I smile at Terrance. “You did great. I’ll see you next week, okay?”

“Okay, Nora,” he replies with a smile.

I walk across the paddock toward my newest client. I’m incredibly busy, and I’m actually not taking on new clients. Had this man called, I would have passed him off to one of my other counselors.

But he didn’t call.

Dominik Carlson did.

Now, an hour ago, I didn’t know who Dominik Carlson was. Admittedly, I live in my own little slice of the world, pretty oblivious to anything off this ranch. But in quick measure, he introduced himself as the owner of the Arizona Vengeance—which yes, I did know that was our professional hockey team because I do watch the news—and that he had a player who needed counseling.

I was impressed he’d heard of me. He admitted he’d read an article in the newspaper a few months ago, and he thought maybe I could help his player, Tacker Hall.

Regrettably, I had to decline because I didn’t have the time, but I quickly learned Dominik Carlson doesn’t really take no for an answer when he wants something.

With no embarrassment at all, my schedule miraculously opened when he made an offer to donate fifty-thousand dollars to the ranch.

That much money could not be ignored. While we make enough here to keep the horses well cared for and the mortgage paid each month, there’s not a lot left over afterward. I’d like to upgrade some of the buildings and paddocks, buy a tractor to mow the fields, and I’d like to give Raul a raise. He’s making the same amount of money he did when I brought him on three years ago, and he hasn’t complained once.

So I told Mr. Carlson I’d be glad to help Mr. Hall, and he’s here now. I don’t know a damn thing about what his issues are, but we help all lost souls here. Drug addiction, depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, or just some kid trying to stay out of jail. I use the restorative powers of equine therapy and my own counseling education and experience to help reach people traditional counseling could not.

As I draw closer to my new client, I try not to be caught off guard by how incredibly handsome he is. He has light brown hair, cut short, and hazel eyes. His face is classically handsome, all angles at the right proportions, and I have a feeling he could easily go from handsome to drop-dead gorgeous if he didn’t look so angry. His lips are pressed flat, and his eyes are cold.

“Mr. Hall,” I say in greeting with a welcoming smile. When I hold my hand out across the top rail of the paddock, he takes it for a quick shake without any hesitation. “I’m Nora Wayne. Dominik Carlson said you’d be coming out today.”

“I appreciate you seeing me,” he replies flatly, with no genuine appreciation at all. While Dominik didn’t tell me why Tacker was coming to see me, he did say it was not by choice. That it was mandated by the team, and he had to complete counseling at least twice a week to stay with the Vengeance.

Ordinarily, I would have googled Tacker to get some background info, but I hadn’t had time because of my scheduled appointment with Terrance.

“Let’s head into my office,” I say, sweeping my hand toward a small metal building about twenty yards away. “Can I call you Tacker?”

“Call me whatever you like,” he mutters as he walks along the paddock fence with me.

I make it through the gate, secure it closed, and lead him up a short set of steps into the office. It’s nothing more than a twelve-by-fourteen metal shack—but it was the best I could afford when I needed to put an actual office on the ranch to meet my clients on days we weren’t working with the horses.