Tacker may be moving too fast. He may not be ready for this. At some point, he will figure that out and break things off.
Quite simply… I could get hurt.
I lay it out to him with resolve in my tone. “I’m worried you’re not ready for this.”
He considers that, but merely shrugs. “What is ‘this’?”
My jaw drops slightly. “What is this?” I repeat. “How do I know? You said you wanted to kiss me last night, then today you want to take me on a date and fire me, and now you’re asking me what this is? See, that’s exactly why I’m worried. Have you really thought this through, Tacker?”
“I see your point,” he replies, his hands falling from my shoulders only to push down into the front pockets of his slacks. Dark gray and paired with a blue button-down shirt. “But yes… I’ve thought this through. The last few weeks, I’ve experienced things that have been surprising to me. I’ve smiled and laughed. I’ve done acts of service for others, and I’ve baked cookies with my teammates’ partners while they were off playing hockey. I’ve shared jokes with my friends. I went back onto the ice, and it felt fucking amazing. I’ve definitely been on a high, and I had forgotten what it had felt like to actually feel good about things. Being angry and miserable had become so normal to me that I got comfortable with it, and I had just forgotten how to be happy.”
He pauses, but I know he’s not done. Tacker takes in a deep breath, then lets it out. His expression is solemn but committed. “I went fifteen long months without considering there was a better life waiting for me out there, and now I’ve figured it out. It’s there… waiting for me.”
It’s a beautiful speech. Clearly, he’s put quite a bit of thought into this and done some soul searching.
But still, I have my worries. “What if you’re misinterpreting gratitude to me for sharing my story with you as attraction? Because that’s what helped you open up, and maybe you’re just grateful to me. And that’s translating into something more. I mean… you don’t even know me. I can be bitchy at times. Stubborn, too. I work too much, and I smell like horses most of the time. Let’s face it… I’m not that great of a catch.”
Tacker chuckles, removes a hand from his pocket, and takes one of my own in it. He swings our arms playfully. “I’d like to sort of figure that out on my own, Nora. It’s the whole point of asking you out on a date.”
My eyes cut to the flowers in the vase. The sweetest of gestures that made my heart flutter. I want to feel more of that. I want to take a chance.
“Besides,” Tacker says, cutting into my thoughts. “I do know you.”
My eyebrows rise in reaction to the surety in his voice. “You do?”
“You’re kind, brave, strong, resilient, funny, and gentle. You have the respect of people, and you’re brilliant. Accomplished. A true wonder. Add in the fact you’re super hot—which makes up for you smelling like horses some of the time—and I think you’re a pretty damn good catch.”
“What if this doesn’t work?” I ask.
And for the first time tonight, I see a flash of worry in his eyes. “Isn’t that a risk any time you act on an interest with someone?”
“It is,” I admit quietly.
“Look,” he says, giving a tug on my hand so I step in closer to him. His other hand goes to the nape of my neck, and his head dips down a bit closer. “I have no clue what’s coming our way. I don’t know if this will work. It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date with a woman that I’m not even sure what to do.”
“Well,” I say coyly, “you’ve already kissed me so that awkward part is out of the way.”
Tacker laughs, pulling me all the way into his chest. I love the sound of it rumbling through his body. When his other arm snakes around my back to hold me to him in a platonic embrace, my belly warms.
“See, Nora,” he says softly as he hugs me. “I just want to banter with you. I’d like you to come to my games and watch me play. I want you to teach me how to ride a horse, and then we can go on a picnic together.”
I snuggle into him, wrapping my arms around his waist. A smile playing at my lips. He’s hooked me.
“And you’re really ready?” I ask, seeking a little more validation.
Tacker leans back so he can look into my eyes. They are turbulent but determined. “I’m scared shitless, Nora. As miserable as I was in the dark, I was comfortable there. Now I don’t know what to expect. Everything is new. But deep down, I need to keep pushing forward. And I’m fairly sure it’s you I’m supposed to do that with.”