Chapter Forty-One Wade

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Wade

December

I stare down at my boots in the dirt while I wait for Ivy, leaning against the open silos door. For forty-seven days we've been doing the same thing, and this is the first day she hasn't been on time.

I know it's been forty-seven days because every morning Ivy reminds me how many days we've been training Angel's Wings for, and how many days to go until she has to be springing from the gate all on her own.

I shouldn't be surprised I'm standing here freezing my ass off though.

Ivy's been a nervous wreck all morning. She spilled her coffee all over her first flannel, messed up the time for a phone meeting with the AQTA, and now she's run back into the office just as we were ready to head to our practice track for Angel's big moment, muttering something about it "being windier out than I thought."

The sound of her boots clicking alerts me that she's moving toward me down the long hallway.

"Fuck, you're almost making me anxious," I say as she finally comes into view.

Ivy blows out a breath when she meets me, holding up a scrunchie, and she smiles.

"Couldn't find it. So fucking nervous," she says as we begin to walk.

Late due to missing scrunchie? This woman has lost it, but fuck, she looks beautiful doing it.

"She has to do this today. If she does, we're smooth sailing into January," she rambles, biting her lip. "Do you think she's had enough time?"

Her violet eyes look to me for the answers when she already has them all, but I don't mind. Being needed by her, I think it brings a kind of peace to me.

"Well, one thing is for certain, she'll do a fuck of a lot better now that you've got the scrunchie," I scoff, trying to calm her.

She swats at me as she pops it on her wrist before she says, "I'm allowed to be irrational today, there's a lot riding on her staying on schedule."

"She's going to do just fine, Trouble," I tell her, squeezing her shoulder as we walk.

The air is cold as it hits my face. I see Rowan McCoy the moment we approach the track, already waiting for us too. He signed on with us immediately after we brought Angel home and is our official jockey for Angel's run at the derby. He's been exactly what we were hoping he would be, and he and Ivy are working together perfectly.

Turns out they have a lot of the same, what I like to call unconventional approaches. So most of the time, it's the two of them teaming up and overriding my more old-fashioned ideas.

Ivy's beaming with pride for her baby as Angel gets closer, and she leaves my side to approach her. She nuzzles her, pats her, and speaks to her, just taking a moment to say whatever voodoo shit she thinks will help Angel finally enter, wait patiently, and then spring from the gate on the bell without any mistakes.

Ivy has moved slowly with her training, slower than I would've, only bringing her to the gate twice a week, always putting the horse first, never rushing her.

I don't teach Wade, I guide , she repeats constantly.

I pull my hat up and wipe my brow. With only four days until Christmas, this is her last chance to have Angel stay on schedule.

In my opinion, Ivy is a big fucking ball of nerves when she shouldn't be. She's stuck to her schedule with precision. It's been her goddamn life's purpose between her regular duties all day and keeping me satisfied at night. Well, as satisfied as I can be. I've realized in a very short period of time that no matter how much of Ivy I get, it's just never enough.

"Breathe," I tell her as she comes back to stand with me.

She nods, listening, and takes a deep breath.

If I ever had any doubts about choosing this horse—which I didn't—I surely wouldn't have them now.

Watching Ivy train her is like watching magic happen right before my eyes. They're like one spirit, the two of them.

"Should we go watch with the crew now?" I ask her, gesturing to the other side of the track for the best view as I squeeze her hand.

We go to the other side and meet most of my family there. Everyone is here at the ranch for our annual holiday cheer and appetizer night. I take in the bunch as they stand out in the chilly December air, chattering to each other about everything and nothing all at once.

"Let's get this show on the road, Mama forgot her winter coat," Ginger says with chattery teeth as Nash and Cole approach from the big house.

"Who the fuck is this guy? Cousin Eddie?" I ask, tugging on Nash's hat. He's rocking an army green trapper hat with ear flaps. Between that and his red and black flannel he looks like he's right out of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.

"Got some trees in the north field that need chopping after this?" I ask Nash. "Think you can take a break from cleaning the RV and walking Snots?"

"Fuck you, man, I'm in the holiday spirit," he grunts.

None of it makes sense until I see CeCe and Mabel come around the side of the barn, CeCe in the exact same coat, a smaller version, of course, and Mabel in a Christmas scrunchie that matches Ivy's, that Ivy gave her as an early gift.

Cole reaches out a hand and passes Ginger his big navy parka.

"Anyone ever told you to come more prepared, woman?" he bites out as she takes it eagerly from him, wrapping it around herself and pulling it tight.

"Why would I need a big uncomfortable coat? I walked from my house to the car, from the car to your door. I forgot we were coming out here to watch Angel dash from the gate."

"Spring," Cole corrects. "And that's a piss-poor answer. What if your car breaks down?"

Ginger thinks for a moment, as if that possibility has never occurred to her.

"I don't know. I live my life one moment at a time," she says as she buries her face into the fleece. "Besides, if I break down, some man of the law will have to come rescue me." Her eyes tilt up to his and I almost see him grin at her. I realize it's only because he's laughing at his own response before he says it.

"If it happens and you call me after your break down, you'll be standing by the side of the road shivering, and I'll be driving by, waving at you with my hot chocolate from my nice warm truck, holding up my winter fu—frickin' coat."

"I think that still counts, Daddy," Mabel pipes up

"You always have room for me in your passenger seat, Cole." Ginger smirks.

The sound of the gate closing interrupts their weird fucking banter as the ranch hands secure Rowan and Angel in the gate perfectly, and Ivy blows out a breath as she waits to see if Angel stays calm when the gate clicks shut.

"Holy fuckballs, I might need a drink before we ring that bell," she whispers nervously up at me. I drop my head to her ear so no one can hear.

"I can make that happen, but in my opinion, you don't need a drink, you just need to watch Angel show us she can do this, and then I'll reward you for doing such a good job later," I tell her.

"Hmm," she says as she takes her bottom lip between her teeth the way she does when she's contemplating something.

After being with her almost every minute of every day for over two months, I've gotten to know her on a level I don't think I've known anyone, ever. The best and worst parts? It's the most incredible feeling in the world when her lips meet mine, and also the most terrifying, because I know if I want to have anything more than what this is now, I not only have to find a way to keep her on my ranch when her contract is up, I'll also have to be ready to let her in and trust I could actually have something that won't end up like my marriage. As much as I should've thought all this through before I got to this point, I didn't, so here I am, one hundred percent in denial about the fact that this has gone way beyond some kind of physical attraction with Ivy. But, like the true man in denial I am, I just keep telling myself it will be fine and that I can worry about the way she makes me feel tomorrow. Forty something days and counting …

"Care to make it interesting?" she asks, her violet eyes full of mischief. Full of trouble.

"You want me to bet against my own horse?" I scoff incredulously.

"Please? I need a distraction and something to look forward to if she doesn't do well today—"

"If she doesn't spring, she still has weeks to train and get it right before she goes to the track in Florida," I remind her.

"Right, bet me anyway," she says matter-of-factly.

"Okay, Trouble, shoot, what's the bet?"

"If Angel springs out perfectly all on her own … you have to do anything in the world I want. If she doesn't, then I will do anything you want."

So what I'm hearing is, either way I win?

I look at her, and I see she needs this so I instantly agree. After all, anything Ivy wants to do to me or with me will be good for me, I'm sure.

"Deal," I say as we move to the rail posts to get the best view.

Ivy looks like she's about to blow her top at any given moment.

I slide my hand under the collar of her coat and place it on her shoulder, rubbing gently under the neckline of her Henley, letting the silkiness of her skin and her hair warm me. She's fucking adorable as ever in her trademark jeans, flannel jacket and cowboy hat. On her feet she wears tattered ivory Lucchese boots.

Haden records the length of time they stay settled in the gate. I'm pretty sure Ivy stops breathing as Haden moves to the bell.

"Hey." I squeeze her shoulder; she looks at me. "Sweetheart, she's got this."

Two more minutes pass and Angel still stays, just as she's supposed to. Ivy closes her eyes as Haden moves to ring the bell and the gates spring open. Rowan squeezes tight to Angel's sides with his boots and Angel springs from the gates into a gallop, burning down our track at an already impressive speed. Angel shows her confidence, and Ivy knows instantly that taking all these weeks not to rush her worked exactly as she planned.

My whole family starts hooting and hollering for Angel.

"Yes! Go, baby!" Ivy yelps, cupping her little mouth with her hands as if the damn horse can hear her from where we stand.

By the time they make it to the end of the track, Rowan is pumping his fist in the air with their victory and Ivy is practically jumping up and down and whistling, tears threatening to spill down her face.

I chuckle as I pull her into me in a side hug and squeeze her tight.

"That's my baby!! That's my girl!" she yells to me as I pull her even closer and kiss her on the top of her sugar-scented head, not giving a fuck who sees.

My fucking sentiments exactly.