Page 81 of Training the Heart

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Ivy

“Well, deck the fucking halls, who’s ready to light this place up?” Ginger says as she drops her purse on our table at the Horse and Barrel the day before Christmas Eve. She’s the last to arrive and is outfitted in a scandalous red dress. Her dewy skin and long dark curls dance under a Santa hat.

Wade and I are already seated with Olivia, Cole and CeCe, with Nash keeping a close eye on us from behind the bar. But the moment Ginger arrives, she commands everyone’s attention, including Wade’s suddenly vocal younger brother.

“Apparently you, as always,” Cole mumbles under his breath as he pushes a strawberry margarita to her across the table.

“Don’t be such a scrooge, Officer. Thought I saw a mistletoe over there if you want to take a stroll?”

Cole scoffs but I see it, that one second where his eyes drink her in like she’s his favorite brand of liquor and he’s thirsty as fuck.

“I’m sure you got lots of options in that department, Vixen.”

“Tons, of course, but I’ll tell you what, Cole. Just because I’m feeling festive, you can be first up.” She smiles as she tweakshis chin. She’s one of those girls who is so goddamn pretty, it almost hurts to look at her, and no matter what Cole Ashby says, I’m sure he notices it just like every other man in this room.

“I need another drink,” Cole half grunts. “Want another?” he asks Wade.

Wade knocks back the rest of his bourbon and nods.

“Me too, baby, we’re celebrating tonight,” Ginger says to Cole as he saunters off. “I told you wearing my boots would bring you luck! To Angel’s Wings’ first milestone, may her juvenile wins come just as easily. Also, babe, you look fucking gorgeous, you’re glowing. Doing what you love looks good on you.” Ginger smiles.

I look down at my navy strapless dress that had Wade sliding his hands under it after he came to get me when he was done working tonight.

Ginger raises her margarita, and we all follow suit while I blush at her blunt compliment. In truth, I’m probably glowing because I’ve never been so sexually satisfied in my life, although that might all change when Wade finds out what his loss of our little bet will entail tonight.

Wade’s hand finds my thigh under the table and he gives it a light squeeze. Those damn butterflies I’ve been feeling for weeks surface instantly in my stomach.

“So, what’s next?” Olivia asks as she smooths her tight copper bun. These three women look like a crew of Christmas cheer: Olivia’s dress is hunter green velvet and hugs every curve she has on her tall leggy frame, and CeCe is the angel in a white sweater dress with a non-existent back that keeps Nash popping over to our table anytime a man in the bar that doesn’t know she’s his even remotely glances her way.

“Now we start more intense training before her juvenile season starts. Her first qualifying race—a practice, essentially—is in early February. She’ll be tested before it,” I say.

“And if she gets her gate card, we can move to nominate her for the derby, and her first juvenile race would be in September,” Wade pipes up beside me.

“You just need forty points, right?” Ginger asks

“Yep, but it’s not that easy to get them, and the more we have, the better,” Wade starts.

“And the more races Angel has under her belt, the better off she’ll be if she makes it to derby day,” I add.

Ginger grins a kind of all-knowing grin.

“Look at you two, finishing each other’s sentences—seems like working together so much is working out.” She winks at me, wagging her crimson-painted finger between us, and takes a sip of her margarita, and by sip I mean half the glass.

“That’s good to be in sync with each other,” CeCe adds, turning to me with a genuinely sweet smile that I can’t help but smile back at.

“You couldn’t ask for a better trainer,” Ginger says formally.

Wade’s brow furrows, as if he’s annoyed at Ginger. Not that he tries to hide the fact that we spend all our time together, I’ve just realized after the last several weeks that Wade Ashby doesn’t like answering to anyone and he likes his privacy. We haven’t talked about any of what is happening between us; we just keep moving through the same delicious routine. Train all day, eat whatever incredible meal Wade cooks us at night, then fuck like we can’t get enough of each other until we pass out.

I haven’t even seen my cabin for more than laundry and a change of clothes in weeks, and although I’m fighting through some serious feelings for my boss, I’m nowhere near ready to admit them, partly because I know I’m leaving at some point, and partly because I know I could probably never really give him the future he truly deserves. Those sons Mama Jo mentioned that he dreamed about have stuck in my mind on replay. Constantly reminding me of what we wouldn’t have.

As if Wade senses my worry about the state ofuswith Ginger’s words, he reaches over and grabs my thigh under the table again. I blink as I look down at it, noticing a word etched into his skin that wasn’t there before. The ink is new, glossy, like he just got it done today. It sits perfectly between his thumb and forefinger in a slanted scrawl.

Mine.

My heart accelerates as I look up at him in question … did he actually? His eyes meet mine, then glance down to his hand, then back to me. The look in his eyes is all the answer I need. They’re dark, claiming. The way he looks before he ravages me.

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