Page 1 of Training the Heart

PROLOGUE

Wade

July

“In my defense, it was thelongestslow burn in history. I just lost track of time, and then there was a detour on the way here …”

I shuffle down the front steps of the big house, while this small, animated woman just rambles on beside me, trying to explain in way too much fucking detail the reason why she’s late for her interview with me.

I stare out to the field wondering what the fuck she’s talking about and what the fuck aslow burnis.

She continues laying out the entire damn plot as I breathe in the late morning Kentucky mountain air, knowing somehow that I’m going to regret asking this but fuck, I just need her to get to the goddamn point.

“Explain,” I say.

“Explain? A slow burn? Or how the book made me late?” She doesn’t even give me room to answer if I wanted to. “Slow burn is … you know, the part that leads up to … the spicy side of the book …”

Spicy?

She waits all of one millisecond for me to speak, and when Idon’t, she continues. “Anyway, the main character I liked the best, he had just kissed her, finally … because the other man she was with, he had just finished, they were roommates—”

I stop and spin around, startling her as I look down at her with a face that I’m sure asks her what on earth she’s talking about.

She blinks and looks up at me, realizing she definitely has gone off the goddamn rails here. But for some reason shestillkeeps talking. “Well, what I mean is, he was about to get his own turn with her and …” She trails off for less than one second, looking down at her boots, then starts again. “Anywho … I’m here now, so I can find out later which one of them—”

Nope.

“Just … Jesus Christ … Do you understand what it means to be professional? At all?” I ask, stopping her from finishing that sentence because I somehow think that discussing her book—that sounds a hell of a lot like some kind of porn—might be considered sexual harassment, although at this moment, I think I might be the one being violated.

Her mouth pops open but she doesn’t speak. I take that as my cue to continue walking.

“I’m sorry for being late, and for wasting your time, Mr. Ashby,” she says in a much more professional tone, as if I’m giving up on her before the interview even starts. Which, until right this second, I was.

I grit my molars. Something about the way she says my name all defeated like that brings me down a peg. Maybe my family is right. Judging by how nervous this woman sounds right now, maybe I was too abrupt with her when she showed up for her interview all of six minutes late. I just didn’t have the patience. All I want is to get through this goddamn day and take a breather after a long-as-fuck morning with my lawyers and my ex, Janelle.

I stop my long stride again, ready to turn and face this littlespitfire, to tell her we’ll start the interview over on a much more professional level. Before I can even speak, I realize she’s moving too fast and she’s not looking up so she doesn’t even notice I’ve stopped until she plows right into me and stumbles backward in the grass.

“Fuck, shit. Fuck … I’m sorry,” she offers as I grip her elbows easily in my hands to steady her.

“Look, Miss …” I let her elbows go as she regains her balance, trying hard not to notice how pretty her violet blue eyes are when she looks up into mine.

“Spencer.” She says it as if it would be beyond rude that I’d forget her name. The one she just repeated when she met my family less than five minutes ago.

Okay, maybe it is, even for me.

“Right. Miss Spencer, I’m gonna cut the bullshit right now.” I turn and start to walk again, and she keeps up as I approach my office doors and plow by two ranch hands that physically stop their work to check the woman out keeping pace beside me. I shake my head at them as we pass because they’re all a bunch of fucking hornballs on my ranch.

“I’m not looking for somebody inexperienced here,” I say. “Even though it’s only temporary, I need an experienced trainer to take Sam’s place.”

I push through my office doors and she follows me. As I walk around the back of my desk, she stands on the other side, in her worn-in jeans, perfectly fitted black t-shirt and matching black cowboy boots, arms folded under her perky tits, holding them up like a little shelf. My eyes meet hers and I realize something I said pissed her right off.

“Oh, I get it, you’re one ofthose?You think just because I’m young and a woman that I’m inexperienced?”

I take my hat off and toss it on my desk.Fuck me, I’m the furthest thing from one of those. This bratty little—

“I can see I’m wasting my time expecting better of you,” she challenges.

I lean forward, placing my palms on my desk, speaking low so she realizes I’m done entertaining her attitude, and fuck, I’m the one in charge here—not her.

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