But why did she want that? Her attraction to him had always been powerful. Getting to know him would only make it that much more painful when he had to leave.
Sighing with frustration, Ainsley changed into jeans and a t-shirt, then walked over to the Remington home. Brock’s rental car was in the driveway, so she knew he was there.
With her finger poised over the bell, Ainsley paused. Was this a good idea? Spending time with the man she’d watched from afar for the last ten years? The man who’d once been the boy she couldn’t get out of her mind?
Who was she kidding? She hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind ever since he’d gone off to college.
Shaking her head, she pressed the bell. She would stay focused on helping him get through this difficult time. That was it.
Moments later the front door opened and there he stood—tall, ripped, hot. Nearly catching her breath, Ainsley smiled as her heart fluttered. “Hi, there.”
“Hey,” Brock said.
As the day had worn on, Brock had decided he was right, that Ainsley wouldn’t be coming over. Though disappointed, he knew it was probably better that way. No reason to let himself get caught up in his attraction to her when he was only in town for a few days.
But now she was here, standing on his porch and looking more beautiful than she had the night before. And that smile. Something about it took away the melancholy he’d been feeling all day. Vanished. Just like that.
Maybe she really was an angel.
Blinking once to clear his mind of such fanciful thoughts, he focused on Ainsley, deciding that he should memorize that lovely face, that sunny smile, those blue, blue eyes. Maybe he could get a picture of her so that when he was back in Sacramento he could look at it whenever he needed to brighten his day.
Wow. This was new. Feeling so anxious about getting a picture of a woman. Usually people wanted pictures of him.
“I’m ready to get started,” she said.
“Oh. Right.” For a moment he’d forgotten why she’d come over. Opening the door to allow her to enter, he stepped back. As she passed him, a light floral scent followed in her wake, intoxicating him. Then he remembered that she had a boyfriend. That tightening of his gut hit him again, that pang of jealousy that he hated with the passion of a thousand suns. He didn’t get jealous. Others were jealous of him.
This was…not good.
How serious were they anyway? Tommy was obviously crazy for her, but how did she feel about him? They weren’t engaged, so as far as Brock was concerned, she was fair game.
Wait. What was he saying? He was leaving town in a matter of days. There was no reason to think about Ainsley as anything other than a friend. Besides, he wasn’t looking for a relationship. They would work on this project together, and then they would say their good-byes.
It would be a piece of cake.
“Have you already started?” Ainsley asked as they stood in the living room, acutely aware of everything about Brock—the way his t-shirt clung to his muscular body, the scent of his cologne, the way he looked at her. Especially the way he looked at her. What was going on behind those brown eyes?
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve boxed up half the kitchen. I’m going to donate the stuff to Goodwill.”
“That’s a great idea.”
Then an alarming thought occurred to her. “What are you going to do with the house?” What if he sold it? With his parents gone and the house sold, he would never come back to Rosebridge. She would never see him again. To her stunned surprise, she felt an actual physical ache in her heart.
“I’m going to sell it,” he said, his voice calm, like he’d just said he was going to the grocery store.
“You can’t,” she blurted.
His forehead furrowed. “Why not?”
Oops. Now what was she supposed to say? Because I can’t bear the thought of never seeing you again? No, she would never admit to that. “Because,” she said, flailing around for a good reason. “There are too many memories here. You don’t want to…to let those go, do you?”
Softly smiling, he touched his forehead with one finger. “My memories are up here. I don’t need the house to keep those alive.” He let his hand fall to his side.
What could she say to that? Not a thing. With resignation, she walked into the kitchen. Picking up a box and setting it on the counter, she turned to him as he entered the room. “Which cupboard is next?”
“I’ve emptied all the lower cabinets, so we can start on the uppers.”
He opened a cabinet and Ainsley saw plates stacked inside. “If we pack those, what will you use to eat?”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
Ainsley had a solution. “You’ll come to my house for dinner.”
Really? She wanted to torture herself nightly? What was wrong with her?
Brock watched Ainsley’s forehead furrow. Was she already regretting her invitation? Inviting him to eat with her every night was generous—no surprise there—but she couldn’t mean it. What about her boyfriend? Even thinking that word pained him. Would Tommy be joining them too?
He pictured Ainsley snuggling with Tommy right in front of him every night he was in town. It would be more than he could take.
“Thanks, Ainsley, but that won’t be necessary. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”
“What? You’re going to eat out every night? That’s not healthy. Not to mention expensive.”
His eyebrows rose. Money was the last worry he had. He earned millions every year.
“Never mind,” she said, a blush rising on her cheeks. “But it’s not healthy. All that fattening food.”
A cocky smile lifted his lips. “I know how to choose the right foods. I’m all grown up now.” Then again, the more he thought about it, the more he hated the idea of eating alone every night. Sure, he ate alone plenty at home, but when the other option was being with Ainsley, eating alone sounded like a terrible idea.
“I’m going to have to insist,” she said, her expression fierce.
He burst out laughing. “You sound just like your mother.”
She smiled. “I do, don’t I?”
“Yes, you do.”
“Good. So, you’re coming to my house for dinner, right?”
How could he refuse now? But he could still set some rules, couldn’t he? “On one condition.”
Her eyebrows rose. “What?”
Should he say it? What if she took it the wrong way? What if she thought it meant he was interested in her? Who was he fooling? He was interested in her. “No Tommy.”
A snort escaped her mouth. “That’s fine.”
Her response surprised him. He’d half-expected that she would be offended. Nodding, he relaxed. Maybe it would take longer to get things in order than he’d originally planned. Maybe he would have to extend his stay in Rosebridge.
Agreeing to Brock’s condition was easy—Tommy wasn’t her boyfriend, after all. But the implications of his demand intrigued her. Did it mean he was interested in her? Pleasure radiated inside her.
Then a new thought killed her joy.
Maybe it had nothing to do with her. Maybe Brock just didn’t like Tommy. After all, Brock had left only minutes after Tommy had arrived the night before. Maybe he couldn’t relax with one of his fans hanging around. Maybe he was only looking for a place where he could be himself and not have to talk about work, or pretend to be excited to talk to a fan.
That was all right too, because it meant she would get him all to herself.
Chapter Five
“We’ve gotten a lot done,” Brock said as he surveyed the now empty kitchen cabinets. He turned to Ainsley with a smile. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
She grinned. “I know. I’m awesome like that.”
He couldn’t disagree. She was awesome. And as he gazed at her, he had a sudden desire to kiss her.
Down, boy.
She was a friend, there to help him. Nothing more. He had to cool his a
ttraction to her.
“I have to admit,” she said. “I don’t know if I have the energy to make dinner tonight.”
He laughed. “So much for your promise to make dinner for me every night.”
Softly chuckling, she said, “How about if I take us out to eat instead?”
He wasn’t up to facing the fans he was sure would approach him. He loved his fans, he really did, but he was exhausted.
“I have a better idea,” he said. “Let’s order a pizza.” And as a bonus, Tommy was guaranteed to stay away since they were at Brock’s house.
“Sounds good to me.”
Brock called the pizza place that was a favorite back in the day, glad they were still in business, and as they waited for it to be delivered, they started filling boxes with the towels and sheets stored in the linen closet.
“Are you going to keep any of your dad’s things?” Ainsley asked as they closed up a full box and began filling an empty one.
“Just a few special items that remind me of him.”
“So, you’re not the hoarding type?”
He laughed. “No. In fact sometimes I get rid of stuff when I should keep it. But I hate clutter.”
“I’m the same way.”
When the pizza came, Brock set the box on the coffee table, then sat on the couch. Ainsley sank onto the cushion beside him.
“All this packing reminds me of helping my parents move,” she said as she took a slice of pizza and set it on a paper plate. “They had years’ worth of stuff in their house too.”
He folded a slice of pizza in half, then took an enormous bite. After finishing it off, he said, “Packing and moving is definitely not my favorite thing to do, but this wasn’t something I wanted to hire out. These are my dad’s things.” He looked around the room where he’d spent his childhood, a very happy childhood, and a knot formed in his throat. “I didn’t want just anyone going through it.”
He pictured his dad, smiling at him, proud of all he’d accomplished. He would never see that face again, never see the pride shining from his eyes. He had no one. He was an orphan. Grief cascaded over him and his throat clogged with tears.
Ainsley placed her hand on his knee and smiled softly at him.
Seeing the empathy in her face, it was like a damn broke. “I miss him already.” Brock’s voice hitched on the tears he was desperately trying to swallow, but they refused to stay down, and as he looked at Ainsley, saw the sweet caring on her face, something inside him slid open and he knew he could show his grief, that she wouldn’t think less of him for crying.
He drew in a ragged breath, and as he exhaled, he couldn’t hold back the sobs any longer. Shoulders shaking, heart breaking, Brock let it all come out, and when Ainsley’s arms went around him, he let his head fall to her shoulder, let himself be comforted by her warm body, her sweet embrace.
Ainsley was grateful that she could be there for Brock, and as he continued to sob, she stroked his back, murmured words of comfort, used a soothing voice. Anything to give him solace.
Finally, his tears slowed, then stopped.
He lifted his head from her shoulder, and with a sad smile, he stood and left the room. She could hear the water running in the bathroom, and when he came out a few minutes later, his eyes were red, but he looked like he felt better.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said as he sat beside her on the couch.
“No. It’s fine. Sometimes you need a good cry. It happens to the best of us. Even NFL football players.” Smiling, she added, “You’re human too, even if what you do on the field seems like something only a superhuman would do.”
He laughed. “Are you saying you watch my games?”
Had she said too much? Admitted too much? “I may have seen a game or two.” That was a lie. She’d watched every game that was broadcast.
His eyebrows rose. “The truth comes out.”
Glad he was feeling better, she asked, “What truth?”
Brock would have preferred to not melt down in front of Ainsley, but it hadn’t seemed to bother her. Not in the least. Of course, she’d known him when he was a kid. That made a difference somehow. Like she knew him better than anyone else did. Like she accepted him for him. The fact that he was an NFL star was just a bonus. He had the feeling she would be there for him if he was just a Joe-Shmo regular guy.
This knowledge did something interesting to his heart. Made him want to kiss her.
He was going to kiss her.
Ainsley asked again. “What truth?”
Brock’s lips slowly curved into a smile, a smile that made butterflies take wing in her belly.
“The truth that you’re secretly a fan.”
Grinning, she said, “A fan? A fan of what?”
He ran a finger along her jaw, leaving a trail of fire, then his finger stopped under her chin, keeping her gaze fixed on his.
“A fan of mine.” His voice was soft, yet deep.
He was right. She was a fan of his, but it had nothing to do with football. She’d crushed on him since she was in middle school, before the world had ever heard of Brock Remington. And now, the way he was looking at her, the way he’d touched her skin, she knew he wanted to kiss her. And heaven help her, she wanted the same thing. Desperately.
Then an image of him surrounded by beautiful women filled her mind. Once he left Rosebridge, once he was back in his world, he would quickly forget her. Better to protect her heart by not letting him kiss her, because Ainsley was absolutely certain that a kiss from him would bind her to him more deeply than she would be able to withstand. She couldn’t let things get that far.
Her lips lifting in a soft smile—the man’s eyes were still red from his breakdown, after all—Ainsley gently removed Brock’s finger from her chin, then stood. “I think I’d better get going.”
Disappointment clouded his eyes, but she had to think of herself. Whereas a kiss from him could send her into a downward spiral of heartbreak, what would that same kiss mean to him? He was in the depths of grief. Kissing her was probably something he’d decided to do on a whim, something that would make him feel better in the moment, but after everything, it would be meaningless to him.
He would get over her rejection.
Brock couldn’t believe she’d shoved his finger away and leapt to her feet. Okay, maybe she hadn’t shoved and leapt, but she might as well have. Clearly, she was rejecting him. Another first for him. How many more of these firsts would he have to endure? How many more was he willing to discover?
Perhaps she was in love with Tommy. If so, Brock needed to back off. It wasn’t right for him to pursue her when she was with someone else. No matter how much he might want to. Besides, what would be the point when he was only in town for a few days?
The truth was, he wasn’t ready to give up yet, even if he wasn’t sure of his motives. Ainsley was stunning, she made him feel good, she represented home, but was that enough of a reason?
Watching her as she stood in front of him, he didn’t care about reasons. All he knew was that he had to make her his.
He stood as well. “I appreciate your help, Ainsley.”
“Anytime.”
Did she mean that? With a chuckle, he glanced around the space before meeting her gaze. “There’s lots more to do if you have time to help.”
He could see the hesitation in her eyes, then she said, “I’m off at three tomorrow. I can come over then, if that works.”
Thrilled that they would have more time to spend together, he nodded. “That would be great.”
“Okay. I’ll see you then.”
With that, she left, and Brock immediately went online to arrange a surprise for her.
Chapter Six
“Who are they from?” Ainsley’s co-worker, Tessa, asked as Ainsley admired the beautiful bouquet of colorful flowers that had just arrived for her. They were in the reception area at the dentist’s office, and Ainsley could feel everyone in the room—Tessa, the receptionist, even the woman waiting to
be seen by Dr. Harris—watching her, listening for her answer.
Tommy rarely sent her flowers, but with the way he’d acted so possessive the other night, they were probably from him. Unless Brock sent them. The thought sent a zing of excitement through her.
Would he do that?
Not able to stand the suspense, she slid the envelope out of the arrangement before removing the card.
Thank you for all you do, Ainsley. You have no idea how much it means to me.
~B
Grinning with pleasure, she almost forgot everyone was watching her.
“It’s from a friend,” she told Tessa.
Tessa’s eyebrows furrowed. “So, they’re not from Tommy?” Tessa was the one who had introduced Ainsley to Tommy, had known Tommy longer than she’d known Ainsley.
Guilt swept over her. Should she feel so happy that another man had sent her flowers? Brock hadn’t confessed his undying devotion to her in the note. It was a simple thank you. That fact dimmed her happiness somewhat, until she remembered that he’d been about to kiss her the night before until she’d jumped to her feet and left.
Besides, she wasn’t Tommy’s girlfriend, despite the way he’d acted the other night.
“No,” Ainsley said. “They’re not from Tommy.”
“Huh,” Tessa said.
Ignoring the accusatory look on Tessa’s face, Ainsley left the flowers on the counter and went back to work. As she cleaned teeth and took x-rays, Ainsley’s mind kept going to Brock and the fact that she would see him after she got off work. What if he tried to kiss her again? Would she let him this time?
The thought of his gorgeous lips pressed against hers sent a flutter to her tummy.
Yes. If he tried again, she would let him. But first, she needed to talk to Tommy, to break things off with him. Seeing Brock again, having her crush rekindled, had emphasized that Tommy was not the man for her. Even though she didn’t think there could be a future for her with Brock, there was no reason for her to keep seeing Tommy when she’d already lost interest. It wasn’t fair to either one of them.
False Start (Fair Catch Series, Book Two) Page 3