Page 193 of The Coach

I adjust my bag and follow the stream of passengers toward the baggage claim.

Then I see him.

Jackson.

Leaning casually against a black SUV, looking effortlessly good in a white t-shirt, sunglasses, and a backwards Stallions cap.

My heart does this ridiculous flip-flop thing as usual.

He pushes off the car as soon as he spots me, his slow grin stealing the breath from my lungs.

“There’s my girl.”

I don’t even have time to process before he pulls me in, his strong arms wrapping around me like he hasn’t seen me inweeksinstead of justdays.

“I was about to send out a search party,” he murmurs against my temple. “Figured you got lost in the airport.”

I roll my eyes but melt into his chest. “My gate was at the literalendof the terminal. Felt like I walked halfway across Florida to get here.”

His hand slides to my lower back, his fingers pressing lightly as he pulls away to look at me. “Well, you made it. And, baby?”

I blink up at him. “Yeah?”

“You look fucking gorgeous.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Shut up.”

His grin widens. “Never.”

Before I can argue, he grabs my suitcase with one hand, his other slipping into mine effortlessly.

Like we’ve been doing this forever.

Like he’smine.

The team put up all the wives and girlfriends at a five-star hotel overlooking the beach, which Jackson drives us to.

The lobby is gorgeous—polished marble, tropical flower arrangements, floor-to-ceiling windows that show off the ocean.

“I have a room in the team’s hotel,” Jackson says as we walk in. “But the WAGs are staying here. Figured you’d be more comfortable here than with all the sweaty guys.”

I smirk. “So…you’re not staying here?”

His eyes darken just slightly. “Nope. But that doesn’t mean I can’tvisit.”

Before I can respond, a voice calls out.

“Ivy!”

I turn just in time to see Cassie striding toward me in a sundress and designer sunglasses, iced coffee in hand.

“Hey!” I smile, relieved to see a familiar face.

She pulls me in for a quick hug before stepping back, eying my outfit with a smirk. “Babe, it’s Miami. What are you doing in leggings?”

“I made a terrible mistake,” I admit.

Cassie laughs. “Well, welcome. Some of the wives are by the pool right now. Wanna come say hi?”

---