Page 79 of If You Give a CEO a Chance

“Me too,” I say.

We’re seated in the suite of the arena, waiting for the second period to start. She and Jack arrived a few minutes late, and judging from their attire, they must have come straight from the office.

Jack commands attention in a three-piece suit. Beside him, Presley is his perfect match in a black pencil skirt, a white turtleneck, and a tailored blazer. Her pumps and brown hair pulled into a high ponytail complete the polished ensemble.

Seated side by side with Jack’s hand possessively resting on Presley’s thigh, they make a striking pair, like they belong on the cover of a business magazine, powerful and perfectly in sync. I don’t miss the way he looks at her as if she’s the greatest prize, more valuable than any deal or business empire.

It leaves me to wonder how it would feel to be the object of such fierce and unwavering admiration. I look over to where Harrison is seated on the bench next to the other players, taking a drink from his water bottle.

I may have my reservations, fearful that this could end badly, but there’s no denying I’m hooked on this man. When it comes to the battle between my heart and body, the latter is winning, leaving little room for resistance.

I’m not ashamed of what we did—in fact, I’m tempted to do it again—but this time with his hands roaming my body, and hiscock buried inside me. However, that would mean our already precarious relationship would become even more complex, if that’s even possible.

Harrison is like a match, and if I stand too close, we’ll both end up in flames—but I’m unable to resist striking one more spark.

To distract my rogue thoughts, I dig into my bag and pull out a container of snickerdoodles. I made a batch for Walter beforehand and brought a few with me, knowing sweet treats have a way of winning people over. I wanted an easy way to break the ice with Jack and Presley.

I hold out the cookies to them. “Would you like one?”

“Absolutely. Those look so good,” Presley exclaims, taking two and passing one to Jack.

He nods in my direction. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Presley takes a bite, her eyes lighting up as she chews. “This is hands down the best cookie I’ve ever tasted,” she declares between mouthfuls.

“I’m glad you like it,” I grin.

Jack’s phone goes off and he fishes it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen.

“Sorry, little vixen, I have to take this.” He presses a kiss to Presley’s head before stepping out into the hallway behind us, separating the two spaces.

As soon as he’s gone, Presley leans over, casually resting her elbow on the arm of my chair. “I hear my mom had a part in you moving in with Harrison. I’m sorry if she overstepped. She means well, but as you might’ve noticed, she tends to get carried away.” She glances back at Jack with a knowing grin.

“Her persistence is the reason I moved in and agreed to become Harrison’s private chef. It’s been an amazingopportunity, though I’m sure Harrison has regretted it on multiple occasions,” I say with a small smile.

“I heard about the spider prank he pulled.” Presley shakes her head. “I would have retaliated against Harrison if I had been in your shoes. He and my other brothers did something similar to me when I was a teenager, conveniently when my parents were out of town for the weekend. I was terrified, but when I realized it was a trick, I couldn’t let them get away with it.” She takes another cookie from the container in my lap.

“What did you do?”

She smirks. “I served them mashed potatoes with chocolate syrup and told them it was ice cream. Their shocked expressions were well worth it.”

I let out a low whistle. “Damn, that’s impressive.”

“Thanks. How about you? Please tell me you made Harrison pay.” She takes a bite of her cookie while she waits for my reply.

“I put salt in his coffee,” I admit.

Presley laughs as she wipes a crumb from her face. “That’s a good one.”

“He didn’t think so,” I remark smugly.

“I hope I’m not crossing a boundary, but I have to tell you that aside from our family, Harrison has never invited anyone to watch him play in a charity game before. And he most certainly hasn’t left a trip in Aspen Grove early for anything other than work.” Presley takes a sip of water and quickly glances at the rink where the Zamboni finishes its final pass. “Beneath his broody exterior is a fiercely loyal man, ready to weather any storm for those he cares about. For example, he loves hockey more than anything, but after our dad’s heart attack, he gave it up.”

I frown, tilting my head. “What do you mean?”

Harrison explained that he had to leave the hotel when he got a call about his dad being hospitalized. Now that I know how much his family means to him, I can only imagine howdistressed he must have been when he got the news. It’s only now that I grasp how much of an impact that must have had on Harrison and his future.

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