Page 58 of Make Her Mine

And though she may not admit it, she notices.

Maybe not all of them though and I’d love to tell her more. Because I didn’t become a coach just because I love the game. I did want to make a difference.

I am not going to become a Mason Riley who’s curing world hunger and having meetings with presidents and prime ministers.

But I could be teaching someone who could become the next Mason Riley.

And Harlow has seen me in action. We spent a lot of intense time together when it came to Alex. She knows I care. She makes me think. She’s like a constant niggle in the back of my mind asking if what I’m doing is important and if it’s the best I can do.

Sometimes I hate it but most of the time I appreciate it. When I’m working with a kid, or even in front of my classroom or on the field, every once in a while, the thought will float through my mind, what will Harlow think of this?

For better or worse.

We pull into my driveway, and both get out. My porch light is on, so if Zach is looking out the front window of the Dixons’ house—and yes, I’ve glanced over and noticed his car is in the drive—then he’ll notice us coming home.

I move in close to her, putting my hand on her waist as I unlock the door.

She doesn’t move away. She doesn’t stiffen under my touch. She doesn’t act surprised at all.

Good. We’re already getting past all of that.

Once inside the house she kicks off her heels.

“Guess what number I’m thinking of,” she tells me.

I frown. “What?”

“Just do it. What number am I thinking of?”

“Four,” I guess.

“Nope. That means I get your room and you get the guestroom.”

I laugh. “No way.”

“Graham says that the bed in the guestroom here sucks.”

“Ha. If you want to sleep in the master bedroom, you’re gonna have to share the bed with me.”

“Nice try.”

“Well, you’re not a guest. You’re my girlfriend. No way would you sleep in the guestroom anyway.”

“I am your fake girlfriend, and no one is coming over while we’re sleeping to check what bed we’re each in.”

I shrug out of my jacket and start unbuttoning my shirt as I head for the stairs ignoring the way my body reacts to even the suggestion of Harlow sharing my bed. “Like I said, if you want the nice mattress, you’re gonna have to share.”

“Hey,” she says.

I turn and look back.

“You’re going to bed now? It’s so early.”

“Did you have something in mind?” And I can’t help but think of all the ways I would be spending the next couple of hours if she really was my girlfriend and we had just gotten home from dinner.

“Well…” She looks around the room. “We could at least watch TV or something. It’s way too early for bed.”

She’s not wrong. It is.

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