Page 28 of Mile High Coach

“Ovulation lasts six days,” I say, leaning forward, “Why not aim for six sessions, then?”

That flush gets deeper. “Well—I thought that would be asking too much. That’s basically a week straight of…sessions.”

I bite my tongue to keep from laughing. As ridiculous and amusing as this is, the idea of a week straight with her—coming to her hotel during away games, going home to her in-between—it sounds pretty fucking good to me.

Maybe I could convince her to consider two sessions a day. Morning and night, just like an effective prescription—a good, solid dosing.

Shrugging, I say, “I’m game if you are, Lovie. I want you to know I’m taking this very seriously.”

She coughs, shakes her head, a lock of hair falling loose from her bun. “Section one details that you get genetic testing before any sessions occur. Here is a clinic,” she reaches into her pocket and produces a card. “You can call to schedule it. Sooner than later is preferred.”

“I’ll do you one better,” I say, taking her card and reaching into my desk, pulling out a fresh report from the bottom drawer and dropping it on the desk in front of her.

“What’s this?”

It’s my genetic mapping from when Eliza and I started to do this stuff.

“Figured I’d get ahead of you on this one.” I tap the papers, looking at her from under my brow. “Everything’s in here—lowchances for disease, good markers. You are getting a very nice product for free, Lovie.”

“Ha,” she raises her eyebrows. “What about?—”

I grab the second packet and drop it on the desk, “Just tested for STDs at my appointment last week. It’s all here.”

“Okay.” Her eyes are glued to the papers.

“Take them,” I say, waving a hand at the desk. “They’re all yours, Lovie.”

She nods and gathers them up, tucking them into the folder, then returns her focus to the contract in front of us, like this is a real meeting and we’re getting behind on time.

“Section four is essentially an NDA.” Lovie straightens up, catching my gaze again. “It’s the most important part. We tell nobody about this, and we’re discreet. Each of us does everything in our power to ensure the other people in our lives don’t find out about this.”

I watch her for a moment, thinking about my empty apartment. Thinking about her in that airport, flying alone. I’d wager neither of us has to worry about letting this slip to the other people around our homes.

But I only nod, and for the next hour, she goes through the rest of the contract with me. She’s thought of every legal loophole, every condition you could possibly include. Nobody else during this—she doesn’t want to risk STDs. It’s a fair ask.

And I haven’t been able to think about anybody but her since that night in first class.

“This agreement is about sperm,” Lovie says, her voice slightly hoarse from talking. She sits back in her chair, and my eyes drop to her chest, the blouse that’s dipped lower and lower during this conversation, now showing the very top of a lacy black bra. “Section 2B specifies that either of us can end this at any time, and the other has to agree to immediately leave themalone. It’s not a breakup—just the severance of a contract. No calls, no texts. No contact at all.”

Maybe I should be offended at the thought of being used like a racehorse, serving her until she no longer needs me, but there’s something about it that makes my blood hot. A real no-strings attachment.

I don’t have to worry about a girl showing up to my apartment in tears, begging me to get serious about the relationship. I can have fun with Lovie, and she can get her baby.

Everybody wins.

When I nod, Lovie stands, clicking her pen.

“Wait,” I hold up a hand, look her in the eye. “I want to add my own clause in here.”

She pauses, pen in the air, and finds my eyes. “What?”

“I do this, and you okay the program.”

“Harrison, I’ve already told you?—”

“I know what you said.” I glance at the contract, then back at her. She wants this—it’s clear. When her nose wrinkles up in frustration, I have to fight the urge not to give in to what she wants.

This is my chance to make it happen, and I’m going to take it.

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