She sent him a text and asked him to meet her for lunch, and he quickly agreed. Then she spent the rest of the morning worrying about breaking the news to him.
Two hours later she sat in a booth at a local deli, waiting for Tommy to arrive.
“Hello, my love,” he said as he bent down to give her a kiss moments later.
Hearing his words sent her into spasms of guilt and longing. Guilt, because she knew she was about to break his heart, and longing, because she wanted to hear Brock call her his love, wanted to feel Brock’s lips against hers. But not just a spur of the moment kiss. A real kiss, a kiss that meant he was hers. She wished it was Brock who was a permanent part of her life, because she knew even when he left she would be thinking about him, missing him. Wanting him.
“Hey,” she said to Tommy, not quite ready to tell him the reason for asking him to lunch.
They went to the counter and ordered their sandwiches, then watched as the worker made them.
“I said light on the mayo,” Tommy said, his voice ringing with irritation, then he spoke under his breath. “Idiot.”
Cringing, Ainsley was glad she’d decided to end things. What he’d just done—something she’d witnessed before—only reinforced that he wasn’t the man for her.
A few minutes later they sat across from each other in a booth.
“How’s your day going?” Tommy asked as he took a bite of his salami on rye.
She thought about the flowers Brock had sent her and how she’d come to realize that it was time to let Tommy know she was ready to move on. “Um, it’s been okay.”
Tommy tilted his head. “Just okay?”
All right. It was time. But she hesitated. It was never easy to tell someone that you were no longer interested, even if he was a jerk sometimes.
“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked as he set his sandwich down.
Softly sighing, she shook her head. “I didn’t just invite you to lunch for the fun of it, Tommy. I…I had a reason.”
Tommy’s expression stilled. “What reason is that?”
She drew in a breath as she gathered the courage to break the news. “I…I’m sorry, Tommy. I just…I think it’s time we moved on.” There. She’d said it. Bracing herself for his reaction, she watched him.
His eyebrows lowered. “What do you mean, move on?”
“I mean, I…I don’t see a future for me…with you.”
Hurt glowed in his eyes. “I see.” He huffed out a sigh. “Is it because of Brock? Are you with him now?”
She wished that was the reason. “No. We’re just friends.”
Tommy’s head tilted. “Really, because the timing of this seems rather…” His lips pursed. “Coincidental.”
Was he going to make this more difficult than it already was? “To be honest, I’ve been thinking about this for a while now.”
“A while.”
“Yes.”
“How long is a while?”
Why couldn’t he accept this and move on? “A couple of weeks.”
His eyes narrowed. “But you’re just telling me this now. Uh-huh.”
Lesson learned. When she knew it was time to end things, she shouldn’t put it off.
She hadn’t touched her sandwich, but she wasn’t about to sit through lunch with him now. Folding the paper around it, she said, “I’m gonna…I’m gonna go.”
His nostrils flared. “Yeah.” Then he jammed the paper around his sandwich before abruptly standing. Moments later he looked at her, his face set in a scowl. “See you around.” Then he turned and stormed out of the deli.
She watched him leave, her heart heavy. But she comforted herself with the knowledge that breaking things off with Tommy had been the right thing to do.
Chapter Seven
To Brock’s dismay, he hadn’t gotten as much done as he’d hoped he would. Every time he started filling a box, his mind went to Ainsley and how much more fun it would be if she were there with him, helping him. Checking the time on his phone once again, he grinned. She should just be getting off work. She would be there soon.
Had she gotten the flowers? What had she thought? Had she been surprised? Did she like them?
Anxious to impress her, he hoped he’d gotten the type of flowers she liked. When he’d ordered the flowers after she’d left the night before, he’d realized he didn’t know her likes and dislikes. He would have to work on changing that.
Ready for a break, Brock took the grilled chicken salad that he’d bought earlier out of the fridge and began eating it, his mind on the questions he would ask Ainsley in order to get to know her better. Then he asked himself why it was so important to learn more about her. She was an old childhood friend—well, the sister of an old childhood friend. They weren’t dating. In fact, she had a boyfriend. A boyfriend she seemed to really like.
Sighing in frustration, he finished eating, then chugged down a protein drink, and after he’d cleaned up, he put together more boxes in preparation for Ainsley’s arrival.
Twenty minutes later she was there. Brock invited her in, happier to see her than he thought he would be. He’d missed her.
“Thank you for the flowers,” she said with a big smile as they faced each other in the living room.
“I wasn’t sure what your favorite flower was.”
“Roses, carnations, daffodils. I love all flowers.”
That made it easy. “Can I get you something to drink?”
With a tilt to her head, she asked, “I didn’t know you had anything in that kitchen.”
He laughed. “Just a few things in the fridge, but you’ll have to drink out of the bottle.”
She shook her head. “That’s okay. I’m fine.” She glanced around the room. “Where shall we start today?”
How about with a kiss? Brock wanted to step towards her, pull her into his arms, and press his mouth to hers, but he held back. He would have to follow her lead. He had to respect her boundaries, boundaries that she’d made clear when she’d abruptly left the night before.
“I’m ready to work in my dad’s bedroom,” Brock said. That was the room that was going to be the hardest to go through. All of his dad’s things were there—his clothes and his most personal items. Glad that Ainsley would be by his side, Brock picked up an empty box. “Let’s get started.”
When Brock had opened the door, Ainsley had been thrilled to see him, her earlier sorrow at her conversation with Tommy slipping away. Seeing Brock standing there, she’d almost told him about ending things with Tommy, but doing that would be like waving a neon sign that said I’m crazy about you, and now that I’m single, what are you going to do? She could imagine the deer in the headlights look on Brock’s face. He’d only come to town to take care of his father’s funeral and to pack his father’s belongings, not to sweep Ainsley off of her feet. She was positive that seeing her hadn’t been on his radar. At all. Tossing out the bomb that she and Tommy were no longer dating would be pointless, and it could be enough to make Brock back away from even friendship with her. No, it was better to keep her new dating status to herself.
Holding back a sigh, Ainsley turned her focus to Brock and what he needed, then followed him into his father’s bedroom. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be to go through the belongings of a lost parent. Both of her parents were still alive and she was grateful for that, which made her all the more glad that she could be there to help him. She’d known and liked Dan Remington. Over the years she hadn’t seen much of him, but over the last two months, ever since she’d moved back into her parents’ house, she’d seen him from time to time. They hadn’t talked much, but he’d always greeted her with a smile.
She would miss his face, miss knowing he was there, that she had a good neighbor.
Remembering the way Brock had broken down the night before, a fresh wave of empathy crashed over her and she fought the urge to throw her arms around him. If she dragged him into an embrace, what message would that send? That she wanted more than friendsh
ip? Well, she did want more than friendship, but she couldn’t imagine that he felt the same. Not with his glamorous life. Why would he be interested in her? Sure, he might want to kiss her, but where would that leave her when he went back to Sacramento, back to the lifestyle he was used to? Heartbroken and alone, that’s where.
No, she couldn’t chance it. She couldn’t risk her heart.
But what about her earlier thought that if he tried to kiss her, she’d let him? That would never happen as long as she was putting out don’t kiss me vibes.
Torn between wanting to protect her heart and desperation to have him kiss her, Ainsley didn’t know what to do.
I’ll follow his lead, she decided.
As they filled box after box with his dad’s clothes, Brock was grateful that his hyperawareness of Ainsley kept him distracted from his grief. She was on the other side of the room, loading his dad’s shoes into a box, but Brock was aware of her every move, her every breath.
Frustrated that she hadn’t given him any indication that she wanted anything beyond friendship, he held back a sigh. They’d been working for nearly two hours and had made good progress, but he suddenly needed to get out of the house.
He turned to her, but her back was to him as she knelt on the floor in front of the open closet. Watching her, he smiled when she tucked a long strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear without pausing from moving shoes from the closet floor into the box.
“I don’t remember you working this hard as a kid,” he said with a grin.
She twisted around, a smile on her face—a smile that lit up his soul and made him want to gather her into his arms and absorb her sunny nature.
“How often did you pay attention to me when I was a kid?” she asked. “Besides when I wouldn’t leave you and Wes alone.”
He laughed. “True.” But he was paying attention to her now. Too much. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “Do you wanna go somewhere? Like, maybe the park?” He took a breath. “I just…I need to get out of here for a while.”
Pushing to her feet, she said, “Sure. I’d love to.”
“It’s a little early for dinner, but how about a treat?” A smile of remembrance curved his mouth. “Is Red Apple Diner still open?”
“Yes. And their shakes are as delicious as ever.”
“Perfect. We’ll pick some up and take them to the park.”
As Brock opened the passenger door of his rental car for Ainsley, he smiled with the thought that this was like their first date. And if he had anything to say about it, it wouldn’t be their last.
Chapter Eight
When they arrived at Red Apple Diner, Ainsley waited for Brock to open her door for her. Tommy hadn’t opened the door for her whenever they’d gone out, but she liked that Brock did it. He was such a gentleman.
He helped her out of the car and she wondered if all this chivalry made this like a date. And if it did, how did she feel about it?
If she were completely honest with herself, she liked it. A lot.
They walked side by side, their hands brushing up against one another’s, then Brock held the door for her. It was late afternoon, but before the dinner rush, so it wasn’t too busy.
Ainsley hadn’t been here for ages, and as she walked in, memories swept over her—memories of dates and fun times with friends. Now, being here with Brock, she almost felt like she was back in high school. Except by the time she’d started high school, Brock was in college.
“Is that Brock Remington?” she heard someone say.
Proud to be with him, when he greeted the man who’d asked the question, Ainsley smiled. Despite all that he was going through, he made time for his fans. It must be hard to never be able to go anywhere without people approaching you, wanting to talk to you, to shake your hand. Gratifying too, but probably tiring.
“Hey, bro,” the man said, “I’m sorry about your father.”
“Thanks,” Brock said.
A few more people greeted him, then she and Brock slid into barstools at the counter and ordered their shakes.
“Strawberry for me,” Ainsley said. She noticed Brock looking at her. “What?”
He grinned. “Nothing. Just making a mental list of all your favorites.”
Was that sweet or what? Had Tommy known all her favorites? She didn’t know. Then she scolded herself. She shouldn’t compare him to Brock. Not now that she’d ended things with him.
Tommy would never have measured up to Brock anyway.
The thought jumped into her head, taking her by surprise.
“I’d like the cookies and cream shake,” Brock said, drawing Ainsley’s attention to him. “Both of those to go.”
Brock is my dream man.
Another thought that came out of the blue. Maybe she needed to let her subconscious talk to her more often. She was learning all kinds of things about herself today.
Brock led the way to a shady spot under a tree at the park. Ainsley had been quiet ever since the diner and he wondered what was on her mind.
“How’s this?” he asked as he swept his hand toward the grass beneath a tree.
“This is perfect.”
She settled onto the grass, her body moving with a grace that he appreciated. Then again, more and more he was learning to appreciate everything about her.
Patting the ground beside her, she said, “Aren’t you going to join me?”
Chuckling, he sat beside her. “I hope you don’t mind sitting on the ground.”
“Not at all.” She sucked on her straw. “How’s your shake? As good as you remember?”
He took a large swallow, the creamy mixture filling his mouth with cold, sweet goodness. “Better than I remember.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Don’t they have good shakes in Sacramento?”
“Not as good as these.”
She laughed. “Guess you should come to Rosebridge more often.”
The reminder that he’d failed to come see his father as often as he should sent a sharp pain to his heart.
“What’s wrong?” Ainsley asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
Setting her shake on the grass, she placed a hand on his arm. “You’re thinking about your father, aren’t you?”
Her touch soothed him. “Yeah. I wish…” He looked away before facing her again. “I wish I’d come to see him more.”
Her thumb made small circles against his skin. “There’s no point in having regrets, Brock. You should focus on the good memories you have of him.”
She was right. And she was perfect. His gaze slid to her bow-shaped lips before lifting to look into her blue eyes.
“You’re good for me, Ainsley.”
Her eyes widened slightly and her thumb stopped moving. “What do you mean?” Her voice was soft.
He shifted so that instead of them being beside each other, they were facing each other, their hips aligned.
Was he going to do it? Was he going to kiss her?
Ainsley nearly held her breath as she waited to see what he would do next. When he’d said she was good for him, something had passed between them, a deeper connection.
Brock reached across her and placed his hand on the grass on the other side of her. Only a few inches separated them as he gazed at her.
Mesmerized by the way he was looking at her, her lips parted.
“Ainsley,” he said, his voice soft, intimate.
This was everything she wanted, everything she’d wished for. Thinking about her fourteen-year-old self and how much she’d wanted Brock to notice her back then, she couldn’t help it. She smiled.
“What?” Brock asked, his lips curving upward as well.
“Nothing.”
He shook his head. “Come on. Tell me what you’re thinking about.”
Softly chuckling, she said, “Okay. I was remembering when I was fourteen and how much I wanted you to…well, for you to notice me.”
His lips pursed. “You were just a baby back then.”
&n
bsp; “No, I wasn’t.”
One eyebrow arched. “Compared to the girls my age you were.”
His words were like a splash of ice water, because it made her think of how she compared to the supermodels and other gorgeous women he normally interacted with. She was nothing like them. When he went back to Sacramento, would he scoff at the memory of her when he was around those other women? Would he secretly laugh at how unsophisticated she was? How small-town?
She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t let herself be drawn in by her attraction to him, no matter how powerful it was. It would only lead to heartbreak. She couldn’t let that happen.
Brock’s lips twitched in a barely suppressed smile, but all the joking was over for her.
“I can’t do this,” she said, her heart already aching.
Brock straightened, his arm no longer across her. Space opened between them and she wanted him right back where he’d been, but she’d already blown it, already told him no.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you’re with…” A muscle worked in his jaw. “With Tommy.”
Not willing to admit the real reason for ending the moment, she clung to the lie. “Right.” As she imagined telling him the truth, that she felt inadequate compared to the women he normally interacted with, she could hear his answer. That’s not how it would be, Ainsley. You’re just as beautiful as them. I’d never forget you. Even if he meant it, it didn’t matter, because he had to go back to Sacramento. That’s where his team was. That’s where his life was.
It was best to let him believe she was still with Tommy.
Disappointed that he’d failed to move the ball forward, Brock was also angry at himself for forgetting that she was with another man, that he had no business making a pass at her. He’d been taught better than that. If he wanted Ainsley in his life—and he was more certain than ever that he did—he would have to keep everything platonic. There was no other way.
When he went back to Sacramento, he would keep in touch with her, although if she ended up marrying Tommy he’d have to eventually drift away from her.
False Start (Fair Catch Series, Book Two) Page 4