Page 11 of The Coach

I laugh. “Uh, no. That seems like it would be a tall order, considering you’re at least half a foot taller than me. Do I look dangerous?”

He shrugs. “Hey, for all I know you could be a femme fatale. Hired to bring me down.”

“Riiight. I mean, I am quite charming when I want to be.”

“Obviously. So where are we going?”

We cross one of the busier streets, then a block past the hospital we turn into a new neighborhood, and walk until until we reach a big house on a dead end.

I pull Jackson toward the sidewalk, stopping in front of the big house at the end of the street. The moon casts a soft glow over the wraparound porch, highlighting the white columns and the deep blue front door. Afor salesign sways slightly in the breeze.

“I don’t know why I’m showing you this,” I admit, feeling a little sheepish. “But this is my dream house. Wanna see?”

Jackson tilts his head, studying it. “Big place. You planning to open a bed and breakfast?”

I roll my eyes. “No. I just always imagined a home like this. Space for a big family. A yard for kids to run around. A kitchen with warm light in the mornings. Maybe a massive room dining table where everyone piles in for dinner. Bookshelves everywhere. And come on, this wraparound porch? They don’t make houses like this anymore. It would be chaos, but it would bemychaos.”

He looks at me, something unreadable in his expression. “A big family, huh? How many kids we talking?”

I bite my lip. “Four.”

Jackson’s brows lift, and I rush to add, “I know that’s a lot?—”

“Not really,” he interrupts, grinning. “I’ve always thought four has a good ring to it, too.”

“Oh. Really.”

“Yeah. That’s how many my parents’ had. It made for fun family events.”

I blink, startled. Then I smirk. “Well, I guess that’s all there is to it. We have to get married now.”

His chuckle is low, warm. “Guess so.”

And standing here, looking at this house that’s only ever existed in my daydreams, I wonder—for the first time—if maybe,just maybe,this moment isn’t just a passing fantasy.

No. That’s insane.

You don’t just meet a hot, tall, city man at a bar, show him your dream house, agree on four kids, and then…

Jackson is quiet for a beat too long, and my stomach tightens. Oh, God. Did I just freak him out? That was ajoke. I obviously know that is not how marriage works. It’s about more than just agreeing on a number of kids or sharing a moment outside a house with afor salesign.

It’s about love, commitment, trust—things you build overyears,not…one night.

But what about gut feelings?

What about that spark—the one that makes your heart beat just a little faster, your hands itch to reach out, your entire bodyknowsbefore your mind does?

Jackson shifts, then gestures toward the house, an easy smirk curling his lips. “Yeah, we could get married…seems like a great place. Maybe there’s a basement in there for a sex dungeon. That’s a requirement for my future home.”

I nearly choke on my laugh, my entire body sagging with relief.Thank God.

“Totally. That’s exactly what I was thinking,” I tease, nudging him with my shoulder. “Nothing screams ‘charming family home’ like a hidden playroom in the basement.”

“Oh, absolutely. Gotta be prepared.”

“Lady in the streets, freak in the sheets,” I quip breezily. “That’s my, uh, ideal life motto.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize how thatsounds, and panic flickers through me.

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