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)
“Well,” I say with challenge and yeah… I admit, a little flirtation. “Let’s see what you got, cowboy.”
My head spins as he whirls me around once, then leads me into a two-step. He moves backward, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to make sure he doesn’t stumble over another dancer who isn’t moving fast enough around the second-floor area. There are several others doing a two-step around the perimeter. For a moment, I have to count in my head so I don’t stumble.
One. One-two.
One. One-two.
But Tacker is actually an excellent dancer. Without me even needing to ask, I’m going to guess it was something he and MJ did routinely. The mere fact he can get enjoyment from it with someone other than his fiancée is remarkable.
And he is enjoying it.
He stares down at me, an easy smile on his face. “I’m glad you came out with us tonight.”
“Me too,” I say with no hesitation. “It’s nice to make friends.”
Tacker’s eyebrows draw inward. “You say that like a woman who has no friends.”
“Oh, I have friends,” I assure him. “Ones I haven’t talked to in weeks or seen in months. Most are now married with kids. I work such long hours that I never get out to see them anymore. Having your own business is no joke.”
“I can imagine,” he murmurs. “But you do have a new crew of friends now, and I know a lot were really charmed by the ranch. Consider us all your ‘new crew’.”
“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.