Page 170 of The Coach

Before I know it, I’m getting introduced to about fifteen different people. Old ladies telling me how much theylove football(sure they do), teenage boys asking for photos, a couple of guys clapping me on the back and telling me they “have a good feeling about the Stallions this year.”

I take it all in stride, shaking hands, keeping my answers short.

And Ivy?

Ivy islovingit.

I lean into her ear when we finally get a second alone. “You enjoying this?”

She grins. “Immensely.”

Before I can say anything else, a tiny, frail hand taps my arm. Miss June, all of five feet tall with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, looks up at me like I’m her next project.

“Jackson, dear, I was just telling the ladies the other day—I need a strong young man like you to help me bake a pie sometime. None of these boys around here know the first thing about making a proper crust.”

I blink, fighting a laugh. “Miss June, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t know the first thing about making a proper crust either.”

She pats my arm, unconcerned. “That’s perfect. I’ll teach you. You just come by when you have an afternoon free, and I’ll make sure you leave knowing how to bake a pie and with a full belly.”

“I appreciate the offer. I travel a lot, so I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”

I shake my head, amused as hell.

“You’re just Mr. Popular around here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on,” I say, tugging Ivy toward the door. “Let’s get out of here before I have to start signing autographs.”

She laughs, linking her arm through mine. “Walk in the woods, then?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

The air is crisp but still just warm enough that we don’t need jackets this time of day. The leaves crunch under our feet as we step onto the dirt path, the trees arching overhead.

It’s quiet. Just the two of us.

And damn, I needed this. It’s so calming to be out here just with her.

Ivy sighs, stretching her arms overhead. “I love this time of year.”

I nod, watching her. “Yeah. It’s nice.”

She turns, walkingbackwardin front of me. “That’s it? Just ‘nice’?”

I smirk. “Alright. Fine. It’sreallynice.”

She laughs, tilting her head. “Good. Now come here.”

I raise a brow, slowing my steps. “Oh?”

She backs up into a tree, looking up at me with alookthat makes my whole damn body tighten.

“I just realized,” she murmurs, “we nevertechnicallyfinished our ‘perfect Sunday’ itinerary.”

I step closer, placing my hands on either side of her head, pinning her between me and the tree. “You saying we need to check something off the list?”

She bites her lip, dragging her fingers up my chest. “Mmm. Maybe just one thing.”

I hum, pretending to think. “I seem to remember the last time we were in these woods…”