He grins, slapping me on the back. "Then I guess we're done here. Good luck."
I mutter a curse as he turns and jogs toward the vans waiting to take us to the slopes. Fucking hell. Pregnancy wasn't even on my mind, but he isn't wrong about it. Getting pregnant would ruin her career…and so would breaking her leg on the damn slopes.
"Goddammit."
I stomp back inside, shaking snow from my boots, and stride straight for her. The second she senses me, her jaw firms, but she doesn't look up.
I stop close enough that the scent of her coffee and her skin hits me at once. My dick reacts immediately, pressing up against my fly. "We need to talk."
"I haven't even had time to drink my coffee, Harlan," she complains. "Caffeine is a requirement if I have to deal with you."
"I'm calling off the bet."
That gets her attention. She sets her cup down, splashing coffee onto the bar. "Why?"
"I changed my mind," I say, even though every cell in my body is screaming at me to never back down from her. Every part of me wants to win that race, just so I get time alone with her. ButI can't risk her getting hurt out there just because I'm desperate for five minutes of her time. Hell no.
She narrows her eyes, the green flash of anger as hot as the sun. "You didn't change your mind. What did Austin say to you?"
"Nothing."
"Liar," she says, and it's not even a snap, just a quiet, disappointed sigh. "God, I really thought you were different."
"Sophie—"
She's already walking away, her boots thumping against the stone floor. "Fine. Bet's off. Have a good life, Harlan."
I cross the room in two strides and slam my palm against the wall in front of her. She stops, but barely—like she's considering just ramming straight through me.
"Let me go," she says.
"No."
"You can't control me."
I bend down, so close I see the flecks of gold in her green eyes. "You're goddamn right I can't control you. No one controls you, ballerina. But I'll be damned if I'm the reason you break a leg out there and never dance again. You want to ruin your career over a stupid bet?"
She stares at me for a long second, her expression so stubborn I want to fuck her soft right here, just break her wide open so she has to admit that she's just as desperate as I am. "To hell with that," she finally says.
"What?"
She squares her shoulders and pokes her finger right into my chest. "To hell with that. You don't get to wrap me in bubble wrap or decide what I can and can't do. I'm not made of glass."
"You're right. You're not," I growl. "But you are the only woman I've ever met who makes me want to glue my hands to you just to keep you safe."
She blinks, and for a second, something soft and wounded flashes across her face. She crushes it with a roll of her eyes. "You really don't get it, do you, you overgrown Neanderthal?"
"No, I don't get it, because I actually care if you're in one piece at the end of the day." I take a breath, forcing my voice down. "I'll do whatever you want, Sophie. Just not if it means putting you at risk."
"I'm not going to break, Harlan. I'm not fragile."
I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches. "You could get yourself killed."
She smirks, and I know I just fed her the line she wanted. "That's rich, coming from the guy who thinks a little pain builds character. You think I can't handle one little race?"
"This is not the same—"
"The hell it's not," she cuts in. "I said I'd be fine. We're doing this."
