Wylde (Arizona Vengeance 7)

But everyone has a second chance inside. Fate brought Tacker to the Vengeance team, which ultimately led to him meeting Nora. While I can’t go as far as to call her a savior, I will say she’s about as close to a saint as one can get by mere virtue of the changes she brought about within him.

Namely… how to forgive himself and move on with his life.

Fate also brought me to the Vengeance, where I’d found my old friend again. While I’m close to many of the men on this team, Tacker is, and always will be, my best friend.

Which is why any day is a good day to hang with him in my book, even if I’m exhausted, sweaty, and covered in scratches.

We ride in companionable silence across rocky terrain toward the main ranch house. Nora actually owns Shërim Ranch, where she specializes in equine therapy. As much as I’ve enjoyed my reconnection to Tacker, I’ve equally enjoyed getting to know the woman who brought him back from the brink of disaster. She’s warm, funny, kind, and doesn’t take any shit from Tacker. Best of all, she makes him ridiculously happy, which is something I thought I’d never see again.

When we reach the house, we find Nora lounging in a rocking chair. She has her booted feet kicked up on the porch railing, a beer in her hand, and a small cooler at her feet.

As we climb out of the Gator, she says, “Figured you boys would want a cold one.”

“I beg of you, Nora,” I call out as I round the front and head up the porch steps behind Tacker. “Leave this knucklehead behind and be mine forever.”

Nora gives a throaty laugh, but she doesn’t respond. She’s too busy tipping her head back for the deep kiss Tacker bestows upon her. Ignoring them, I grab a beer from the cooler, plopping down on the porch swing that’s perpendicular to the rockers. Tacker takes a seat next to Nora after grabbing his own beer.

Nora holds her bottle up. “Here’s to hardworking men.”

“Cheers,” I reply, holding mine up in salute.

Nora and Tacker tap the necks of their bottles together.

“Want to stay for dinner?” Nora asks. “We’re having homemade pizza.”

“You better quit feeding him such horrible stuff,” I reply slyly, giving him a pointed look. “He’ll get fat in the off-season.”

“Fuck off,” Tacker snarls with good nature. “I can run your puny ass into the ground any day.”

Nora ignores our bantering, since she hears it all the time, and adds an extra enticement. “And homemade cheesecake.”

“Sounds disgustingly amazing,” I reply, sprawling my legs out and starting a slight rock of the swing. “But I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Blonde or brunette?” Tacker teasers.

I ignore the crack. “We’re going to an art exhibit downtown.”

Both Tacker and Nora stare blankly. I just return a smug smile, then take a casual sip of my beer.

“Did you lose a bet?” Tacker asks.

“Nope.”

Tacker pushes out of his rocker, then walks over. He bends at the waist, puts his face close to mine, and tilts his head back and forth as if he’s studying me carefully. “I think it’s Aaron,” he says with a quick glance at Nora. “Looks like him. Smells like him. But it certainly doesn’t sound like him.”

My fist shoots out, pulling my punch greatly before it hits his stomach, and he makes an exaggerated oomph sound while laughing hysterically. He saunters back to his rocker, then lowers his frame into it.

“So you’re seriously going on a legit date with a woman to an art exhibit?” Tacker asks, not able to hide his incredulity.

I give him a sour smile. “It’s not out of the realm of possibility.”

“It’s so out of the realm.” Tacker chortles. “There’s a reason why you’re known for your last name… Wylde. You’re a love ’em and leave ’em kind of guy. You constantly remind us how mundane we mere mortals who would dare enter into monogamous and committed relationships are.”

Nora reaches out, giving Tacker’s arm a light smack. “Be nice.”

“I am,” Tacker insists. “And I’m being truthful.”

He’d be right about that. He’s calling a spade a spade, and no one knows me better than he does.

“Oh my God,” Nora says as if she’s just been clued into the answer to a big mystery. “You’re talking about Clarke.”

“The woman you brought to the weddings?” Tacker asks, surprised. They’d both spent some time talking to her at the two weddings.

“Why is that so shocking?” I grumble.

“Well, because she only went on those dates because she lost a bet,” Tacker points out. I’d told him how we’d met. “I thought you were done with her.”

“Not quite,” I grudgingly admit. “I like her.”

Tacker laughs again, delighting in the fact I seem to have been bitten by the same bug he had been struck by. Same for Bishop, Erik, Legend, and Dax come to think of it. “This is classic,” he says with a laugh, then holds his beer up. “Good for you, dude.”