“Thanks,” he said as he stepped inside, towering over her as he passed.
Had he been that tall at eighteen? She couldn’t remember. Of course, she’d only been fourteen and hadn’t yet reached her full height—all five feet five inches.
Walking inside the Hunter’s house brought back all kinds of good memories, memories that took him back to his teenaged years. His gaze automatically went to where the TV used to be, searching for the video games he and Wes had played. He almost expected to see them lying in a haphazard pile. Instead, a large ficus tree sat in that corner, its branches full and green.
“Is that real?” he asked, walking over to it and rubbing a leaf between his fingers.
Ainsley laughed. “No. Plants and I don’t exactly get along.”
He liked her honesty. He turned to face her. “Easier to take care of too.”
“Yep. Just dust it once in a while and it’s good to go.” She paused, then pointed to the kitchen. “I need to make the French bread. Do you want to come in there while I work?”
“Yeah. Do you need any help?”
She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his face. “No.” Then with a smile, she turned and walked into the kitchen.
Brock followed her, liking the view. She wore form-fitting jeans that hugged her curves in all the right places, a pair of low-heeled boots, and a turquoise blouse that made her lightly tanned skin glow.
She moved to the island counter, so he stood on the other side. Watching her expertly slice the French bread lengthwise, he kind of marveled at how different this Ainsley was compared to the fourteen-year-old girl he remembered.
“Looks like you’ve made French bread before,” he said.
Laughing, she spread a butter and garlic mix onto the soft white bread, then looked up and met his gaze. “I’ve lived on my own for quite a while.” Her voice rang with the complete confidence of a woman who could—and did—take care of herself.
It made Brock look at her with fresh eyes, eyes that appreciated this grown-up version all the more.
“I can see that,” he said, his voice deep with approval.
Ainsley heard something in his voice that caught her attention. Something that woke the butterflies in her stomach. Daring a glance at his face, she saw him watching her intently.
This was all wrong. She was dating Tommy, and Brock was a famous athlete. He probably had harems of women waiting for him back in Sacramento. She needed to put aside this attraction she had to him, this girlhood crush, and focus on giving him the emotional support he needed at his time of loss.
Turning her attention back to the French bread, she carefully sliced the loaf into serving-sized pieces and placed them on a foil-covered cookie sheet, ready to put in the oven once the lasagna came out. Then she turned her attention to the salad.
“Are you sure you don’t want some help with that?” Brock asked.
It would be best if he stayed on the opposite side of the island. She smiled at him and shook her head. “No. I’m good.” She tore the lettuce into smaller pieces.
“So, Ainsley,” he said, drawing her attention to him once again. “What have you been up to all these years? I don’t think I’ve seen you in…what?”
“Ten years.” The words came out of her mouth too fast. Now he would think she’d been keeping track. Which she had been. “Something like that,” she added with a shrug.
He smiled. “I think you’re right. It has been ten years.”
“If you say so.” She tried to sound casual, and she thought she might have pulled it off.
“So,” he said again, “what have you been up to?”
Softly chuckling, she said, “Nothing as exciting as you.”
One side of his mouth tugged up in a smile. “I’d still like to know.”
Flattered that he asked, she took a tomato out of the fridge and began chopping it. “First, I finished high school.” Why had she said that? It made it sound like she was a baby compared to him. He was only four years older than her. That wasn’t much at all. Not at their age.
He laughed. “I’m glad to hear that. I remember your parents getting pretty mad at Wes and me when we skipped school once or twice.”
She looked up and met his gaze with a smile. “Only once or twice?”
“Maybe three times.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Anyway,” he said, stretching out the word, “I doubt your parents would have let you drop out.”
“Oh no.” She adamantly shook her head. “No way.”
“What’d you do after graduation? Lo, all those years ago?”
She laughed. “All those years ago? Isn’t your ten-year reunion coming up soon?”
“I think I just missed it. But point taken.”
She tossed all the salad ingredients together and carried the bowl to the table before coming back to the island, safely across from Brock. “Anyway, after I graduated—” She grinned. “With honors.”
“Of course you did.”
Was he being facetious, or did he really remember that she was smart? Probably the former. He’d barely paid attention to her back in the day. “I earned a degree in dental hygiene and now I work as a dental hygienist for Dr. Harris.”
He nodded. “How do you like that?”
“I love it, actually.”
“I guess we’re both pretty lucky then.”
Tilting her head, she said, “Why do you say that?”
“We both get to do what we love.”
The timer for the lasagna went off.
Ainsley took the casserole dish out of the oven and set it on the table, then changed the oven to broil before putting the French bread inside.
“That looks and smells really good,” Brock said. “I think you might actually cook better than your mother.”
Ainsley closed the oven door, then turned to him with a smile. “I guess we’ll see in a few minutes.”
Chapter Three
They sat across from each other at the table, Ainsley trying to get over the surreal feeling of having a meal with Brock Remington, just the two of them.
“What are you thinking?” he asked after they’d both gone silent.
Ainsley chuckled. “That it’s nice to chat with you without you and Wes teasing me.”
Brock threw his head back and laughed, then he grinned. “But teasing you was so fun.”
Her smile matched his. “For you, maybe.” All she’d wanted was to have Brock and Wes pay attention to her—maybe Brock more than Wes. But all she’d ever gotten was picked on.
“It’s funny what we do as kids,” he said before polishing off his first helping of lasagna.
When she noticed he’d finished, she said, “Please. Eat as much as you’d like.” She didn’t want him going hungry.
He scooped out two large squares of lasagna and put them on his plate, as well as two more slices of French bread. “By the way,” he said as he forked a large noodle covered in meat sauce. “I can officially say that you’re a better cook than your mother.”
Beyond thrilled, Ainsley beamed. “Thanks. And I promise I won’t tell her you said that.”
His eyes widened in mock-concern. “You’d better not.” He ate a few more bites. “What’s Wes up to?”
Despite all the years of teasing, Ainsley was close to her brother, and she smiled softly as she pictured him. “Two years ago he married a sweet girl from South Carolina, which is where he’s living. They had a baby girl a couple of months ago.”
“Wow. That’s awesome. Wes is a daddy.”
“I know. Kinda crazy.”
They chatted as they ate, but when there was a lull in the conversation, Ainsley asked him something that was on her mind.
“How are you doing, Brock? Really?”
His shoulders slumped slightly and he sighed. “It’s hard losing a parent, but I’m doing okay.”
“Do you need help with anything?” She paused before softening her voice. “The funeral arrangements?”
Brock smiled sadly. “No. I’ve got that covered. The funeral’s in three days. On Wednesday. Now I’m just dreading packing up all of my dad’s stuff.”
Ainsley immediately knew how she could ease his burden. “Let me help you.”
He barked a laugh. “You want to go through thirty years of my dad’s stuff?”
Not really, but she hated to think of Brock having to do it all on his own. “Sure. It will be like a treasure hunt.”
Now Brock shook his head as he laughed. “You’re crazy. Then again, I never understood why you wanted to hang out with Wes and me. Especially when we teased you so much. Maybe you like being tortured.”
Smiling in memory despite the way she’d hated being teased, Ainsley said, “I guess I thought you guys were cool. I mean, you were—are—four years older than me. You were in high school and I was still in middle school. You guys seemed larger than life in so many ways, all grown up.”
“What?” Brock’s tone showed that he had no clue what she was talking about.
“You both could drive, you had jobs, you went on dates.” Nodding, she grinned. “I wanted to be just like you guys.” And as she thought about it, Brock was still larger than life. Right there on TV playing football, watched by millions of fans.
Suddenly intimidated by his fame—and from what she knew, he was paid extremely well too—Ainsley felt small and insignificant. Certain he had legions of gorgeous women throwing themselves at him, she even felt plain and boring. She was a dental hygienist in Rosebridge, Idaho, for heaven’s sake. Not some rich and famous supermodel. Why was Brock even spending time with her?
Then she knew.
Because none of those other women were here right now. She was convenient. She was comfortable.
Feeling diminished, Ainsley plastered a smile onto her face.
“You’ve done pretty well for yourself,” Brock said.
She was renting her parents’ house while she worked 9 to 5. Compared to all that he’d achieved, she’d barely gotten off the starting blocks. Still, she was proud of what she’d accomplished, that she was supporting herself. Not everyone could be a world-famous NFL player.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
Brock was having a great time. He hadn’t felt this relaxed and comfortable since… Well, he couldn’t remember the last time. Ainsley was just what he needed. And her cooking was amazing. The lasagna melted in his mouth.
A knock sounded at the front door.
Eyebrows raised, he looked at Ainsley. She shrugged before standing and walking to the front door. From where he sat he could see the door, so he watched to see who it was.
A moment later Brock saw a man standing on the porch, a man who looked to be in his late twenties.
“Tommy,” Ainsley said, a note of surprise in her voice.
“Hey, babe,” he said.
Babe? Was this her boyfriend? She hadn’t mentioned she had a boyfriend. Why was Brock suddenly hit with a pang of jealousy?
The man—Tommy—looked past Ainsley and met Brock’s gaze, then smiled with recognition before planting a quick kiss on Ainsley’s lips and walking inside.
“Come on in,” Brock heard Ainsley mutter as Tommy walked past her and straight toward Brock, his hand held out.
“Ainsley didn’t tell me you were the friend she was having dinner with,” he said, a wide smile on his face. “I’m Tommy Zimmerman. Ainsley’s boyfriend.”
So, his guess was accurate. Not liking the man, Brock stood anyway and forced a smile, then shook Tommy’s hand, gratified to note that he was a good six inches taller than this boyfriend.
“Brock Remington,” Brock said, then released Tommy’s hand.
“I already knew that,” Tommy said with a chuckle. “I’m a big fan.” Then he turned to Ainsley. “Why didn’t you tell me Brock Remington was coming for dinner? Instead of cancelling with me, we could have all eaten together.”
She’d cancelled with her boyfriend to have him over? Interesting. Brock looked at Ainsley, whose gaze went from Tommy to Brock and back to Tommy.
“I,uh,” she began. “I didn’t think about that.”
“No worries,” Tommy said. “I’m here now.” He looked at their plates, which were nearly empty, then he smiled at Ainsley. “Looks like I made it in time for dessert.”
What was this guy’s problem? Couldn’t he see that he’d interrupted something?
Realization dawned on Brock.
Tommy obviously knew exactly what he was doing. If Ainsley was his girlfriend, Brock wouldn’t want her spending the evening with another man either.
The thought of that happening made him tense with jealousy. Then he reminded himself that Ainsley wasn’t his girlfriend, had never been his girlfriend. Would never be his girlfriend. They hardly knew each other anymore. Their only connection was the time they’d spent together as kids. They were adults now with their own lives. Ainsley had invited him to dinner because that’s the kind of thoughtful person she was, not because there could be any kind of future for them.
Why was he even thinking about that? He would be back in Sacramento in a week, his time in Rosebridge tucked into his memory bank.
“I sliced strawberries,” Ainsley said. “I thought we could put them over vanilla ice cream.”
“Ah,” Tommy said as he put a possessive arm around Ainsley’s waist. “You always make the perfect dessert.” He looked at Brock. “Ainsley loves to cook for me.” He smiled at her, adoration clear in his eyes. “I’m the luckiest guy alive.”
It was almost too much for Brock. He wanted what Tommy had. Not just the perfect girlfriend. He wanted Ainsley.
Well, this was awkward.
The last thing Ainsley had expected was for Tommy to show up in the middle of her dinner with Brock. They’d been dating for two months, but it wasn’t anything serious. True, she hadn’t been dating anyone else, but that was only because no one else had interested her enough. But she and Tommy weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. Why had he said they were? They’d never discussed taking their relationship to that level. It was like he felt threatened and wanted to stake his claim, a claim which he had no right to.
Then her gaze went to Brock—tall, powerful, beyond attractive. Not to mention highly successful doing what most men could only dream of—playing in the NFL. Of course Tommy felt threatened.
Looking at Tommy with new eyes, Ainsley had to admit that he had good reason to feel threatened. He was a generally nice guy, although she hadn’t felt compelled to discuss upgrading their relationship to boyfriend/girlfriend status. And to be honest, lately she’d been losing interest in him, had been thinking of breaking things off with him.
And did Tommy really think she was his girlfriend? Hmm. She would have to clarify that with him. As far as she was concerned, she was free to date whomever she wanted.
At the thought, her gaze shifted to Brock. Dating him would be amazing. Only problem was, he would only be in town for a few more days. Besides, why did she think he would want to date her? Someone he remembered as an annoyance from his youth?
No, there was no reason to think of him in those terms. He was a world-famous NFL football player, adored by millions, and craved by plenty of gorgeous women. It was beyond doubtful that he would have any interest in her at all.
Disappointed that the man she’d crushed on since middle school was so out of reach, she smiled at Tommy. At least he was crazy about her, even if her interest in him was waning. At her look, Tommy pulled her into his arms.
Brock had to use all of his self-control not to rush over to Ainsley and drag her away from Tommy and into his own arms.
What was wrong with him? He’d never felt like that toward any of the beautiful women who threw themselves at him, so why was he feeling like that toward Ainsley, the girl he remembered as a gangly fourteen-year-old?
Because she was no longer fourteen, that’s why. She was a stunning woman who was self-assured and who brought back all of the warm memories from his childhood.
Maybe that was it. She represented the good things from his childhood. Clearly, he was trying to cling to those feelings and he was doing it through his attraction to her. That’s all it was. He could handle that. He just needed to take a step back and focus on the here and now.
It was time for him to go.
“As good as strawberries sound,” he heard himself say, “I need to get going.”
“Already?” The look of disappointment on Ainsley’s face was almost enough to change his mind.
But no, he needed to leave.
“Thank you for dinner, Ainsley. It was delicious.”
With a nod toward Tommy, Brock let himself out of Ainsley’s house and walked back to his dad’s house. As he stepped inside and saw all of his dad’s things, Brock remembered Ainsley’s offer to help him pack it up. They’d never set up a time, and he knew she had to work, so he wrote her offer off as a nice gesture that would probably never come to fruition.
Disappointed that he wouldn’t see much of her before he left, in a way he was also relieved. Better to put this attraction to her behind him. He only had one reason to be in Rosebridge—to put his father’s affairs in order. Not to fall for a pretty woman from his youth.
Chapter Four
Ainsley was tired. It had been a long day at work, but despite that, she’d promised Brock that she would help him sort through his dad’s things, and she was determined to follow-through. It didn’t hurt that she was also eager to have an excuse to see him. Even though she knew there could be nothing beyond friendship with him, she’d enjoyed chatting with him at dinner the night before. Their conversation had been easy and comfortable.
That is, until Tommy had shown up. What had he been thinking, just dropping by like that, as if he was entitled to see her whenever he wanted to? If he hadn’t shown up, she was certain Brock would have stayed for dessert and they would have gotten to know each other better.
False Start (Fair Catch Series, Book Two) Page 2