Page 44 of Training the Heart

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Wade

“Can I get you anything else, cowboy?” our server asks. She’s young, blonde, and very flirty. She’s wearing the standard Twelve Thirty Club attire, which is where we’ve landed for dinner. She’s Cole’s type to a T, not mine, and she’s been doing her damnedest to get the best tip possible since we sat down.

The thing is, I wouldn’t even look twice at her because Ivy is sitting across from me wearing a blue strapless dress the same color as her eyes, her hair pulled back high on her head in a ponytail, and all I can do is stare at the way her graceful neck curves to her shoulders and think about how badly I want to get my mouth on it.

I may have cleaned myself up physically after I ruined her scrunchie, but mentally, I still haven’t recovered.

“Looking for dessert?” The server leans down to pick up my empty plate, and I avert my eyes from her tits that are practically in my face. I swear, I hear Ivy snort from across the table.

“We’re good. Just the bill, thanks,” I say as she stands back up straight and gathers Ivy’s plate as well.

“Too bad.” She grins at me, attempting to be as sexy as possible.

“I’m cramping your style.” Ivy giggles when the server is out of earshot. The sun streams in the window behind her and lights her up like a goddamn halo.

I look down to my drink than back up to find a smug look on her face.

“You know she was flirting with you, don’t you?”

“Meh,” I say nonchalantly

“It’s not your fault. Something happens to women in Nashville. They’re all looking for a cowboy,” Ivy comments.

“Good thing I’m not a cowboy.”

“Rancher counts. In fact, I think it’s just the hat, you could be a tax attorney for all they care, as long as you wear those jeans like that and carry that hat around, you’re eye candy.”

I don’t miss her comment. I lean back in my chair and fold my arms over my chest.

“Are you checking out how I look in my jeans, Trouble?”

“I mean … I’m in Nashville too,” she says, and my cock twitches.

Ivy’s eyes flit to my phone on the table as it buzzes for the third time since we’ve left the hotel. For the third time straight, it’s fucking Janelle.

“You got yourself a case of an ex that doesn’t take no for an answer too, boss?” Ivy takes another drink, then errantly licks some of the salt off the side of the glass, which in itself threatens to brick me up under the fucking table like a teenager.

I look away and flip my phone over, ignoring Janelle again.

“A word of advice, you can be the good man you are without sacrificing your own sanity. That’s the positive thing I learned from Brad. You can learn something from Janelle too. Stop looking at your time with her as a waste, and look at it as a stepping stone to what you want and what you don’t. All you have to do is set that boundary with her for good.”

I run a hand through my hair and blow out a raspberry.

“Fucking hell, didn’t know this dinner came with free therapy.”

“Gotta earn my keep somehow, Chief.” She smiles then adds, “So, Mr. Rancher … back to the hotel, or you got other ideas?”

Oh, I have other ideas alright. Ones that tell me I need to keep myself out of that hotel room as long as humanly possible. I look across the street then back to those violet eyes I can’t get enough of.

“You like Johnny Cash?” I ask Ivy.

She smiles wide. “Who doesn’t?”

“Let’s be tourists then,” I say.

I’ve been here before and seen it all, but somehow with Ivy everything feels brand new.

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