Page 40 of Mile High Coach

“No—that’s…I wasn’t fishing for an invitation, Harrison?—”

“I’m not on the hook for one, either. You’re not going to be alone for the holiday, Lovie.”

“Seriously, that’s an imposition. And this whole thing is supposed to be just?—”

“—about sperm, yes, so I’ve been told. But we’re friends, right?”

I bite my tongue, look over at him, swallow down the hesitation. Why don’t I want to admit that we’re friends?

“Sure,” I relent, and he bumps his elbow into mine.

“So, think of it as a friendsgiving, then.”

I let out a breath, thinking I’ll just feign sickness and cancel day-of. “Okay, fine.”

Pleased with himself, Harrison refocuses on the TV, which has restarted the recording of the game. We both end up watching, which turns into talking about the game, which turns into discussing the players, which brings us back to Greenhill.

When I first brought it up, I expected Harrison to go on another rant about my stupid initiatives, but he doesn’t.

“I have to admit,” he says, shaking his head and leaning back against the couch, tilting his head to look back at me. “I think some of the stuff is working.”

“Oh, of course.” The words burst out of me, and I laugh, shaking my head.

He jolts, blinking at me, “What? What is it?”

“I’ve been waiting for this moment!” I’m giddy—maybe a little too giggly. From the sex. From the realization that after today, I could actually be pregnant.

From talking to Harrison, joking with him, realizing I’m just as comfortable here with him as I am at home.

“Waiting for what moment?”

“When you’d have to eat your words and admit I’m making a real difference for the team.”

“Now, wait just a second—” I’m laughing hard enough that he has to pause, putting a hand on my arm and shaking his head,waiting for me to stop and take a breath. “I am not eating my words, and I still think the robots are stupid?—”

“Harrison Clark doesn’t know how to admit when he’s wrong,” I laugh, bringing up a hand from my knees to wipe at the tears streaming down my face. “God, I wish I wasn’t stuck like this. I’d do a victory dance.”

He’s still shaking his head, and I can feel his eyes on me as I continue to laugh. When I calm down a little, still giggling every few seconds, I finally look at him.

Harrison is smiling slightly, the corners of his mouth turned up.

“What?” I ask, sobering a bit at the look in his eyes. He blinks, does a little headshake.

“Nothing.” A quick clear of his throat. “How long do you have to stay like this, anyway?”

“At least fifteen minutes.” I think about the articles I’ve read, wonder if he cares, then decide to tell him, anyway. “The whole ‘legs in the air’ or ‘knees to your chest’ thing might just be an old wives’ tale,” I admit. “But I found some evidence that staying immobile for fifteen minutes after sex can help.” When he says nothing, I glance at him, “Why?”

“Just wondering.” His voice is a bit deeper, thicker now, and I don’t miss the way he sweeps his eyes up and down my body, making shivers break out over my skin.

“Just wondering?”

“Just wondering when you’ll be ready to go again,” he clarifies, his words making my heart drop down into my stomach. I swallow through the adrenaline coursing through my body, ignore the heat on my face.

“Already?” I tease, “I thought libido decreased with age?”

“Oh, just for that,” he growls, “I’m going to have to punish you, Lovie.”

With that, he leans forward and scoops me up into his arms like it’s the easiest thing in the world. I laugh, letting go of my knees and throwing my arms around his neck to stay stable.

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