Page 169 of The Coach

And then—just when my heart’s about toexplodefrom how soft this moment is—his voice drops, rough and teasing against my ear.

“Just make sure you’re wearing something…with easy access on our walk.”

Chapter Thirty-One

JACKSON

I wake up to the smell of coffee and something sweet—like cinnamon, vanilla,Ivy.

She’s standing at the counter in the little kitchen of her place, wearing a loose sweatshirt and leggings, her hair all messy, stirring a mug of coffee.

She looks so damnsoftthat my chest tightens.

She glances over and grins. “Morning, Coach.”

I stretch, rubbing a hand down my jaw as I walk toward her. “Morning, Emerald Girl.”

She rolls her eyes, but I see the way her lips twitch.

I move in behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss against the side of her neck.

She tilts her head to the side. “Mmm. We have a whole day planned, you know.”

“I know.” I kiss lower. “But I also know we havetime.”

She laughs. “Not if we want pancakes at the cafe. I don’t see you being able to make it quick this morning.”

“You’re right.” I sigh dramatically, pulling away. “But later? You’re mine.”

Her breath catches, and I see it—the heat in her gaze, the flush creeping up her neck.

Yeah.She’s already thinking about it.

By the time we get there, the town is already bustling.

Ivy walks ahead, weaving through the crowd, stopping at booths, greeting just about everyone she passes.

And, Jesus, she knowseveryone.Parents, students, former students—they all light up when they see her.

“Miss Ivy was the best teacher I ever had!” A fifth grader grins up at her, shy but beaming.

I hang back, hands in my pockets, just watching. Watching the way she lights up while talking to an old vendor about local honey, snapping photos of the displays as if she wants to remember every little detail.

She turns suddenly, pressing a tiny cup of cider into my hand. “Here. Drink this.”

I take a sip. It’s warm, a little spiced. “Not bad.”

She smirks. “High praise.”

I chuckle, taking another sip.

Then, suddenly, someonegaspsright next to us.

“Oh my Lord, you’reCoach Jackson Knox!”

I exhale, already bracing.

Ivy’s face is absolutelydelightedat my discomfort.

---