Page 7 of Training the Heart

COLE

Just brace yourself

NASH

Brace myself for what? A lifetime of happiness?

I smirk. I know exactly where Cole is going with this.

CeCe planning a wedding. Imagine what she’s like at the office and times that by about a million

NASH

You’re exaggerating. She’ll be fine. Weddings are supposed to be fun.

COLE

Narrator: It was at that exact moment that he realized he was fucked.

NASH

Fuck me

Have a nice day bud

I slide my phone in my pocket and glance out the window. The sun is just clearing the top of Sugarland Mountain as I pop the lid onto my travel mug of coffee and start the walk from Bluegrass to the main barns. Normally, I’d drive so I have my truck on hand for the day, but since my truck is still sitting in the Horse and Barrel parking lot, I’m relying on two feet and my heartbeat this morning and I’m looking forward to the short walk to clear my head.

My mind wanders to my father, as it usually does. He’s been gone just over ten months; sometimes it feels like an eternity, sometimes it feels like yesterday. That’s just the way grief works, I suppose. Everything I do on this ranch, I do hoping it’s what he would’ve done. We’ve finally made a good profit this summer. Our boarding stalls are full, we’re running lessons and offering training again.

Last year was lackluster for us. He was so sick, I was dealing with my separation from Janelle and we just let things fall a bit by the wayside. Now, I feel like I’ve got my focus back, jumping right in, and I’m seriously considering doing what my mom and siblings want. Using Ivy’s time here to help me find a one-year-old horse of our own, and start training it for next year’s derby qualifiers. The whole process and road to a derby will take ourranch over a year and a half, and even then, we may not make it. The Kentucky Derby isn’t the most lucrative financially, but it’s the pinnacle, and following in my dad’s footsteps by entering a prize thoroughbred seems inevitable.

We have the time and resources to do it finally, but we need to get on finding our competitor so we can start training right away. It’s going to take everything I’ve got, all the help Ivy can offer me and a small fortune to do it, but with our financial situation looking up thanks to Nash’s help and having a much better year all around, I think it’s possible. I could take Ivy under my wing, give her the training experience and a little separation from my desperate little ranch hands that can’t stop staring at her.

“Morning, boss.” Ivy smiles as I cross into the barn. She looks so fresh faced and ready for the day. Her raven-colored hair is piled high on her head in a big messy bun, soft little wisps frame her face, which is free of makeup. She’s wearing one of her many pairs of Levi’s jeans that fit her ample curves like a second skin and a white, perfectly fitted and low-cut Eric Church tour t-shirt that her full breasts are seriously challenging the confines of.

Yeah, I know, she’s my employee, but I am a man. And any man would have to be dead not to notice Ivy.

“You don’t seem too worse for wear after all those margaritas,” I observe.

“I brought her a coffee from the big house,” Haden, my lead ranch hand, pipes up from a stall. Of course he did, and of course he’s already here helping her when he should be leading a small team to muck out all the stalls. Would you look at that dedication?

“Heard she needed it after last night.” He grins.

Ivy smiles a megawatt smile at him that makes me grit my molars. He’s the last one I want bringing Ivy anything.

“Your family sure knows how to party,” she states as she closes the stall she was working in.

“Hmmphh,” I grumble.

Haden chuckles at my lack of words but Ivy doesn’t bat an eye at my response. At this point she’s just used to it.

“Oh, and I printed out the registration info for Nashville, and left it on your desk, if you’re interested. It’s on the twenty-seventh. Have you thought any more about it?” she asks.

Right, the annual Nashville breeding sale. Our best chance to buy a yearling.

“I have been thinking about it,” I say, rubbing my jaw. “We need a jockey and a shit ton of time to train next winter and spring, plus I’d be forgoing a lot here to work on it.”

Ivy nods, used to my indecisiveness on the matter. We’ve been going back and forth since before she officially came on board.

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