Chapter Thirty-Five Wade

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Wade

" T his is the training schedule," I say as I place my spreadsheet on the coffee table in the den at the big house. "We'll need to train all through the spring and summer," I tell my family at our usual Monday night dinner.

Ivy and I have just come back from Nashville, and of course they all want the dish on Angel's Wings.

"There's a place in Sarasota we can take her to record her workouts and obtain her gate card, so she's qualified for racing, I want to take her there in early February if you all agree. The sooner we can make her comfortable with the noise, the other horses, the sooner she'll be ready for her juvenile racing year. I hope to have her springing from the gate by next Christmas," Ivy says to my family across the table from me.

It's a big goal, but if anyone can do it, it's her.

I let my eyes drink her in when no one is watching. She's wearing a pair of light blue jeans that hug every curve she offers and an off-the-shoulder white sweater. Her hair is hanging loose and the wisps that trail her graceful neck have me wishing I could lift them up, wrap those strands around my hand and suck her skin right into my mouth. I've buried myself in her seven times in the last forty-eight hours, but even that isn't stopping me from wishing I could lure her into the dark hallway and bend her over the closest side table.

"… and she's regal and confident and so goddamn beautiful. Isn't she, Wade?" Ivy asks me as she shows photos of Angel to the family.

I nod and sip my bourbon. "The most beautiful," I say back, watching how she swipes her hair behind her pretty little ear, not even thinking about the damn horse.

Mama moves to the kitchen so she and CeCe can mix together a spinach salad.

"I hope y'all had time to have a little fun too," she says to us.

Ivy looks straight at me and raises one eyebrow. It's a look that tells me she's about to be a brat and it makes my cock twitch every fucking time.

"Y'all wanna hear something mind-blowing?" she asks, biting her bottom lip.

I give her a look of warning.

Cole instantly looks up from the other side of the sofa.

"Fuck, yeah," he says

"Wade danced at Luke's 32 with me," Ivy says, looking at me with that grin on her face that says she knows how much my family is going to bust my chops over it, but still, she adds with a little smirk, "All night long."

Mama grins without even looking up from the dressing she's making.

"You're good for him then, darlin'. He used to love to dance."

Fuck my life .

My mother's smile grows as she looks up and points her spoon at Ivy while she talks. "Remind me to show you a home video real soon of him and Cole singing karaoke and dancing their little hearts out one fine Christmas morning."

"Goddammit, Mama." I run a hand through my hair.

Cole laughs as if he wasn't just as ridiculous as I was at that age, while he takes a big swig of his drink. Fucker used to act out Justin Timberlake's dance moves like he was entering goddamn American Idol .

"I think I sort of remember that Christmas. Wade was in his Lonestar phase," CeCe pipes up, holding a carrot to her mouth like a microphone. She sings the chorus of Lonestar's biggest hit in the wrong fucking key.

Amateur.

"I'm a confident man," I say, raising my glass. Fuck them all, I'll own it. "I sang the shit out of that song for a twelve-year-old. A lot better than that piss-poor performance," I chirp at CeCe, and knock back a shot.

"Her voice is straight from heaven itself," Nash coos into her ear as he kisses her.

Cole makes a vomit sound and pretends to crack a whip.

"My fucking sentiments exactly. I seem to remember you talking all sorts of shit about CeCe Rae back in her Shania days," I say.

Nash is a cocky motherfucker and doesn't take one second to say, "I was a stupid kid then; I didn't mean it. I always thought she was a great singer."

"Thank you, baby." CeCe kisses him on the nose as Ivy giggles from across the table.

I shoot her a text as CeCe impersonates Cole next, singing Justin Timberlake, and I'm grateful I'm not their target for five minutes.

You have no idea what kind of punishment I'm gonna rain down on you for that later.

I watch her as she feels the buzz of her phone in her pocket. I'm transfixed on her face as she pulls it out. Watching the corners of those beautiful lips turn up into a half smile as she types, as pretty as sin.

TROUBLE

I'm sure that smart TV of yours has built in karaoke if you want to punish me with soft, croony country music?

You can bring any music you like. You have no idea how much I can make you suffer.

TROUBLE

But we're not in Nashville anymore. Don't you think it's about time to behave like adults and co-workers? We got that out of our systems didn't we?

Fuck no. Not even fucking close.

Should've thought of that before you wrapped those lips around my cock.

TROUBLE

Actually, if I'm being honest, all I can think about is wrapping my lips around your cock.

Christ.

I nearly choke on my bourbon as I read her answer. Ivy leans back in her chair and crosses one leg over the other, looking straight at me like she's untouchable. The joke's on her if she thinks I wouldn't haul her ass into the main floor bathroom and prop her up on the sink while I fucked that tight little pussy into next month.

You're looking awfully confident with all these people around, and as much as I like that, you know what I like more?

TROUBLE

What?

The look you're going to wear later when my fingers are tangled in that long, thick hair and I'm fucking the back of your throat.

I look up at her to find Ivy shifting in her seat and I instantly know that she's wet and desperate for my cock to fill her.

Pop clears his throat beside me, jump-scaring the shit out of me. Where the fuck did he come from?

"Set the table … Chief ," he says quiet enough for only me to hear, as he hands me the cutlery, looks between Ivy and me and winks.

Fucking Christ. Observant old man.

I swipe the cutlery out of his hand and adjust myself as discreetly as possible while Pop shakes his head and heads back to the kitchen.

Across the den, Ivy leans back in her chair and sips her bourbon while she giggles.

As I set the forks and knives down in their place on the table I feel my phone buzz.

TROUBLE

Can't fucking wait.

And now I'm hard.