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)
“You must have been nervous,” he says with a sage nod. He knows me that well.
“Well, his counseling is mandatory, and I have to report back to his employer. I expect our next meeting will be more productive.”
“He’s going to be difficult for you,” Raul murmurs, and I can hear the worry in his voice. He always worries for me. Has since the day I met him almost twenty years ago when I took my first riding lesson from him. “You might need to share a bit of yourself with him to get him to open up.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to do that,” I reply as I pick up my beer. I hold it up for a moment, pondering. “I wonder what the best approach to take with him is. You were in the barn… you heard how averse he is to anything that promises him even a sliver of hope.”
“Just hit him with your rays of sunshine, Nora. You have a special talent in making people believe in the best.”
I snort, because he’s very much exaggerating. I don’t have special powers or talent. I’m a good listener, though. And, through my education and training, I know how to give the proper kind of guidance.
I’ll google him tonight to get the basic background on him. Maybe that will give me some ideas on how to handle our next session on Friday.
But, for now, there are more important things to discuss at dinner. I take a sip of my beer, put the bottle back down, and then lean forward. “So… tonight’s bingo at the community center. I heard Tillie’s grandson say she was going,” I tease.
“So,” Raul replies gruffly, his focus on his tacos suddenly super intense.
“So, you should go sit with her. She’s totally sweet on you.”
“Cierra esa boca,” he grumbles—a gentle rebuke for my ribbing—but his cheeks are turning slightly red under the dark tan he has. “I’m too old to be worrying about who’s sweet on me and who’s not.”
“MaryBeth Henson is most definitely not sweet on you,” I say with a snort.
“Good,” he replies with a smirk. “She’s a harridan.”
MaryBeth helps me with the ranch house, cleaning it for me every few weeks. I’m so busy that mopping floors and dusting furniture are the lowest activities on my priority list. So I broke down and hired her to help out.
While Raul lives in guest quarters on the ranch, he freely moves in and out of the main house, often taking most meals with me. For some reason, he and MaryBeth don’t get along.
“It’s just,” I hedge a little, not willing to give up on Tillie. “I don’t want you to be lonely. You pour your heart and soul into this ranch and into me—”
“Exactly,” he says, cutting me off. “I have you.”
Raul’s wife died nine years ago. She was a sweet woman who doted on him. They have two children and five grandchildren, but they all migrated and moved east so he doesn’t see them a lot. While I love him like a father and a best friend, I know my offerings to him have their own shortcomings. I want him to have someone in his life who will focus on him one hundred percent. Tillie would do that if he’d let her.
“I love you,” I say gently. “I just want you to be happy.”
“You want everyone to be happy, Nora. You want everyone to find the same peace you have, and I can only offer you two truths about that. First… I’m happy just as I am, and I don’t lack for anything. And second, not everyone has the ability to find peace. Some prefer to stay in the dark.”
He’s talking about Tacker now.
Another slight warning that I’ve got my hands full with this client.
CHAPTER 6
Tacker
As I pace around my apartment, I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. I got my workout in, which included a seven-mile run this morning. After I made a healthy breakfast, I went grocery shopping, adding more healthy items to my cupboards and refrigerator. Admittedly over the last two weeks since the crash, I haven’t been following the best of regimens when it comes to food and exercise. I think in my mind, I’d given up believing the Vengeance would want me. I’d started my slow descent into losing my six-pack to a pot belly.
Since meeting with management on Monday and accepting their terms, I’ve kicked it at the gym. Rid my apartment of the Cheetos and Cocoa Puffs I’d been living on.
Actually went and got a haircut.
I’m slowly making my way back, and now all I have to accomplish is the dreaded “talk” tomorrow with Nora that will supposedly start off my counseling sessions. The terms of my place on the team are clear… talk my shit out with a counselor and fix my shit so it doesn’t negatively impact the team.