Chapter Fourteen Wade

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Wade

W hen I return home at five, Ivy is on the couch, her ankle on a pillow just like I instructed, and the crutches are beside her. She is determined, I'll give her that, and strong as hell.

I drop my hat on the bench, say hello and watch her use her strength to pull herself around the room, keeping her ankle elevated. She seems to do it with ease, and she also seems to have a hard time sitting still, another thing we just might have in common. She moves quickly, disappearing into her bedroom. I hate that I don't like the idea of her needing space, but I get that it might be odd for her to be here with me like this, making small talk all the time.

I let her be and make my way into the kitchen to wash up and think about some kind of a dinner for her. As I do, I marvel at the odd feeling of just having someone here when I come home. Lights glowing, sound. Any sound other than nothing. Someone to greet. I don't hate it.

There are two candles lit in the center of my coffee table that my mother put there before I moved back. They've never been used until now but fuck, it smells good in here. Kind of like Ivy but amplified. Vanilla and some sort of cookie scent.

Ivy surprises me a few minutes later and comes back into the living room with a smile, her hair now up in a big messy bun, the heavy worn gray hoodie I left her this morning on her petite frame.

"It gets cold in here," she comments.

"Fuck, yeah it does, sorry. I'm used to it. I'll make a fire." I move to the big old stone fireplace and get one going for her as she asks me about the day while she cues up Die Hard.

I fill her in as I move back to the kitchen and pull makings out of the fridge to start dinner. I watch her settle in on my sofa and I can't help but wonder what other movies she's watched, or how many of her smutty book chapters she managed to fit in when I wasn't home all day, maybe in the bath while she—

Fuck, Wade. No. Just no.

I force myself to focus and our silence turns comfortable. Just the sound of the movie and the crackle of the fire fill the room as I roll my sleeves up and get to work on some quick chicken penne. I've always been capable in the kitchen—not only do I love to cook, I simply had to, because Janelle would burn water if she tried to boil it. If I wanted to eat anything other than grilled cheese sandwiches, I had to become resourceful. It was useful knowledge and my mother had made sure us boys knew our way around a recipe.

"I made my bed and tidied up a little," she says as I grimace at her.

"Y'er supposed to be sitting. Elevating."

"I don't sit well, Chief. I stopped when my ankle started aching, don't worry."

I nod and pop my AirPods in, and turn on David Allan Coe as I get in my cooking zone.

Thirty minutes later, I stand back and admire my handiwork. Fuck, if I ever fail as a rancher I'm pretty sure I could absolutely kill it as a chef. I deliver her plate and take my seat on the other end of the sofa with my own.

"Oh God …" She moans that tempting sound again as she chews her first bite. "This is delicious," she mutters as she takes another.

I let myself eye her up when she isn't looking, wrapped up like a little burrito in the corner. The dark hair that's escaped her bun sits wispy around her face, and she looks way too good right now in my clothes. Speaking of which …

"CeCe is going to head to your cabin when she's done at Olympia today, she said she'll FaceTime you and you can instruct her on what to bring you for the next few days."

She nods. "She's already messaged me. I gave her a list. She should be here anytime."

Not even two bites later, the telltale sign of CeCe's headlights shine through the front window.

"Knock knock, delivery." CeCe's voice sings through the space as she opens my front door toting two good-sized duffle bags. Nash is trailing behind her like the puppy he is.

"Well, isn't this cozy …" Nash chuckles while I mentally berate him for being such a cocky son of a bitch.

Ivy smiles a megawatt smile at CeCe that almost takes my breath away as I watch it light up her whole face.

"A Not Angel home delivery service," Ivy remarks.

"Hell yes, and this delivery service comes with the help to put everything away too … Ooh, Mama's chicken penne? Don't mind if we do," CeCe says, already grabbing herself and Nash plates down from the cabinet.

"Guess this is a dinner party." Nash smirks as CeCe loads his plate up and he stuffs a piece of garlic bread into his mouth.

CeCe and Ivy ramble on while they eat, about random things going on in town, changes to Olivia's boutique. The fact that Gemma, Cole's shitty excuse for an ex, has a new boyfriend. Small-town gossip at its finest.

Nash and I make our way to the kitchen when we're done eating and I pour us both a bourbon. I grab my Pop-Tarts out of the pantry, open a package and pop two in the toaster. We lived on these things when we were young

"So, you have a house guest for a few days?"

"Appears that way, yep," is all I offer back.

"Fuck it, I'm just gonna ask. How the fuck is that gonna go?" He swirls his glass and takes a swallow.

I look at Ivy in the next room as I answer. Her face is animated, pretty, soft. A far cry from how it looked when I found her on my porch last night. She looks comfortable and she looks too damn good in my living room. I avert my eyes to the sink as I start to fill it with hot soapy water.

"It seems to be going alright so far. She's already looking better," I say, pulling the Pop-Tarts out of the toaster and passing one to Nash, he takes one from me and takes a bite.

"Must be all that tender loving care you're giving her," he says as he chews, smiling big enough to show me he's on to me, as if I'm that obvious.

"Fuck sakes, it isn't like that," I mutter under my breath, but I don't deny it. I am looking after her; it's the right thing to do. "I'm doing what I need to do for the ranch—she's got to be better to train. I would do it for anyone."

Nash grins again, and even though he isn't really my brother, sometimes I feel like he knows me even better than Cole does.

"Whatever gets you through the day, Sergeant," he says as he claps me on the back.

He thinks he's so smart. What the fuck does he know?