Hating Tommy with every fiber of her being, she frowned. “I don’t…that is…I’m not interested in dating you. I…I just want to be friends.” The bitterness of the lie made her want to rinse her mouth out with vinegar. That would improve the taste.
“Oh.” He seemed to deflate right in front of her.
Desperate to bring the happiness back to his eyes, she said, “Well, maybe we could go somewhere. You know, as friends.”
That wasn’t ideal, but Brock would take it. After the kisses he and Ainsley had shared, he’d gotten the distinct feeling that she was as attracted to him as he was to her. What had changed?
Then he knew.
Seeing him hit Tommy must have turned her off, killed any attraction she had for him. It was his own fault. Yes, he’d been freed of any charges, but he’d lost Ainsley in the process.
He’d blown everything, destroyed any chance he had with her.
Wait. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he could prove to her that his reaction had been out of character for him, that he was actually a good guy. Fresh hope suffused him and he smiled.
He stood. “I know just the place.”
Ainsley stood as well, and he fought the nearly overwhelming desire to draw her into his arms and kiss her. She’d made it clear she wasn’t interested in that and he needed to respect her boundaries. But knowing she was just out of reach made him want her all the more.
Chapter Fifteen
“Red Apple Diner?” Ainsley asked with a smile as Brock pulled into a parking space.
“Why not? I know you love their shakes, and from what I remember, their burgers are pretty good too.”
She glanced at him, loving the strength in his profile, loving everything about him. This was torture, being with him without being able to tell him how she felt. She comforted herself with the fact that he was flying back to Sacramento in two days. But that was no comfort at all.
While she’d been musing, he’d come around to her door and now she let him help her out, but once they were both standing outside his car, she reluctantly removed her hand from his.
“I’m starving,” she said as a way to cover her action, but she had no appetite at all.
“Good. I am too.”
They walked side by side, and once inside, he led her to a just-vacated booth. It was Friday evening and the place was busy. A server cleared the dishes away and wiped down the table, then set menus in front of them.
Glancing around, afraid Tommy would somehow see them, Ainsley wasn’t able to relax.
“What’s wrong?” Brock asked. “You seem, I don’t know, tense.”
He was exactly right, but she had to pretend everything was fine. “No. I’m just…I don’t know.” She couldn’t come up with a convincing lie.
Brock knew what the problem was. She was embarrassed to be seen with him. Everyone in town had surely seen the Youtube video of him punching Tommy. He looked like the caveman Tommy had accused him of being. Shame poured over him like acid. Being aggressive was part of his job—if he wasn’t, he’d be sidelined or traded. But in real life, among civilized people, what he’d done wasn’t acceptable.
“I’m sorry, Ainsley,” he said, his voice soft so that the neighboring diners couldn’t hear.
Her eyes widened. “Sorry about what?”
“About what happened. With Tommy. I shouldn’t have lost my cool like that. It was a mistake. One that I’ll always regret.” His eyebrows bunched. “Will you ever be able to forgive me?”
Tears filled her eyes and she placed her hand over his. “Oh, Brock. There’s nothing to forgive. You were standing up for me. I’m just sorry I ever met Tommy.”
That wasn’t what he’d been expecting. He took her hand in his and lifted it to his mouth then gently placed a kiss against her tender skin.
She gasped, then yanked her hand away and looked at the other diners before staring at her lap.
What the…?
She might say there was nothing to forgive, but clearly she was ashamed of him, of people thinking there was something between them.
Hurt, Brock picked up his menu and pretended to study the options.
Ainsley hated this, hated that she had to watch herself around Brock. Desperate to tell him everything, to let him know this wasn’t his fault, she opened her mouth to speak. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone approaching them.
Turning her head, Ainsley saw Tessa stop beside their table.
Panic swelled within her. Had Tessa seen Brock kissing her hand? Would she report it to Tommy?
“Hey, Ainsley,” Tessa said, a fake smile on her mouth.
“Hey.” Looking at Brock, Ainsley said, “I work with Tessa at Dr. Harris’s office.” Then she smiled at Tessa. “Tessa, this is Brock Remington.”
Tessa held out her hand, and Brock took it in his. “Nice to meet you, Tessa.”
“You too.” Tessa retrieved her hand. “I was sorry to hear about your father.”
Sadness slid into Brock’s eyes. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“How’s your…” Tessa glanced at Brock’s right hand. “Your fist?”
Mortified that Tessa would say that right to his face, Ainsley wanted to jump up and drag Tessa away, but before she had the chance to put her impulse into action, she heard Brock say, “I’m ashamed about what I did.”
Brock’s shoulders were hunched and he was shaking his head.
Ainsley looked at Tessa, who seemed unimpressed with Brock’s remorse. Then again, she was friends with Tommy, and Ainsley knew how bad Tommy’s face looked.
“You should be,” Tessa said, her voice dripping with disdain. “You broke the man’s nose and blackened both of his eyes.”
“That’s enough, Tessa,” Ainsley heard herself say, her voice loud and firm.
Tessa pursed her lips as she looked at Ainsley, then she stormed away.
“Let’s get out of here,” Brock said.
Ainsley leapt to her feet, eager to get away from everyone’s judgmental stares.
A few minutes later they were back on the road.
“I’m sorry about Tessa,” Ainsley said. “She and Tommy are friends.”
He frowned. “I figured as much.” He reached over and took her hand, and she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t. It felt too good to have her hand in his.
“Thanks for standing up for me,” he said.
Glad she’d done at least that, she wanted to do more, but had no clue where to start.
“Let’s go to my place and order a pizza,” Brock said, then he chuckled. “We can do some more packing while we’re there.”
“That’s a great idea.” That was something she could do to help him. It was something a friend would do. But she wanted to be more than friends. Desperately.
“You like packing?” he asked.
“Not particularly, but…”
“What?”
“I just…I want to help you.” And kiss you. And tell you that I love you.
He smiled at her. “You’re the most giving person I know, Ainsley.”
She didn’t know about that, but she was flattered he thought so. Wanting to keep the conversation less personal even though her hand was still in his, she asked, “How much packing is left?”
“Not a whole lot.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah. I’ve arranged for Goodwill to come on Monday to haul away all the boxes and furniture. I’ve already shipped the items I’m keeping to Sacramento. Then I’ll have a cleaning service scrub the place down before I put the house on the market.”
It was all so final. He would be gone in less than forty-eight hours and he would never come back. She clung to his hand as her aching heart began to shatter.
Brock was surprised that Ainsley was still letting him hold her hand. Especially after the way she’d reacted to the kiss on her hand at the diner. Then again, they were alone now. No one could see her with him, so maybe she was able to contain her embarrassment. And, despite everyt
hing, she was still willing to help him pack. Amazed by her selfless nature, he knew she was everything he wanted in a woman.
Startled by the sudden realization, his mind raced with a way to win her heart. Not sure if he ever could, he scolded himself for thinking everything should always go his way. He’d been beyond blessed in his life, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have disappointments. He’d experienced plenty of setbacks in his life, but losing Ainsley was a defeat he wasn’t sure he could accept.
Chapter Sixteen
“This pizza is so good,” Ainsley said before taking another bite of her slice. The crust was just the right thickness, the cheese melted in her mouth, and the chunks of sausage, pepperoni, ham, and bell pepper were perfect.
Brock swallowed the mouthful he’d been chewing. “Better than the burgers at Red Apple Diner?”
Trying to forget that they’d even gone there, she nodded. “Definitely.”
“I think so too.”
She smiled at him as they continued eating, and when they were done, she helped him clean up before they went into the spare bedroom to finish packing the odds and ends that were left.
“I’m glad this is only a two-bedroom house,” she said as she ran packing tape over the top of the box she’d filled. Then she added the box to the stack in the hallway before coming back in the room. Leaning against the wall, she watched as Brock took the last few items down from the high shelf in the closet.
Brock laughed as he turned to face her. “Right? I tried to get my dad to let me buy him a brand-new place, but he refused. Now I’m glad.”
“Your dad was such a great guy, Brock.”
Her smile was soft, and the moment seemed right. He had to kiss her. Had to. In two strides he was in front of her with only inches separating them. Cupping her face in his hands, he gazed at her, her blue eyes wide. When he looked into those eyes, all he saw was a woman without guile, a woman who was trusting and kind and good. A woman he was falling in love with.
Needing to feel her mouth against his, her body in his arms, he gazed at her as his mouth descended toward hers.
Ainsley was paralyzed by his gaze, by his very presence. Her love for him filled the whole room and it was physically impossible for her to turn away. Her heart wouldn’t let her, no matter how much her mind told her she should.
Brock, her mind cried. I love you so much!
Then his mouth was on hers and her arms wound around his neck as his moved to circle her waist. Melting against him, she savored this moment, memorizing the way it felt to be in the security of his powerful embrace, to have his mouth claim hers, to feel loved. Because she knew this would be the last time she saw him. She couldn’t take it any longer, she couldn’t spend another day with him, not when she knew there could be no more than friendship between them.
Early the next morning she would leave. She didn’t know where she would go, but she would pack a bag and leave town, and she wouldn’t come back until she knew Brock had flown back to Sacramento.
When he released her from his embrace, his gaze on her, Ainsley’s chest tightened and her head pounded. Keeping all this emotion in was doing terrible things to her body. Desperate to tell him everything, she couldn’t break her promise. She just couldn’t. And even if she was willing to, fear of what would happen to Brock would stop her from telling him the truth.
The pounding in her head increased.
“I don’t feel well,” she said. “I need to…” She glanced toward the hallway. “I need to go.”
Concern filled Brock’s face. “Are you sure? I mean, maybe I can help you.”
There was absolutely nothing Brock could do to help her. She’d made this agreement with Tommy and she would have to deal with it on her own.
She shook her head. “No.” Then she smiled. “Thank you though.”
Brock ran his finger down her jaw, and she nearly burst into sobs at his touch. “Let me know if you need anything. Okay?”
Afraid to open her mouth for fear that she would burst into hysterics, Ainsley nodded, then with a final smile, she turned and hurried to the front door.
Brock followed Ainsley to the door, worried about her. She’d been on edge ever since he’d been released from jail.
Then his thoughts ricocheted back to the word jail. He’d been in jail. That was not the kind of place Ainsley had ever been. He was probably the first person she knew who had been arrested. No wonder she was having a hard time with this. What must she think of him?
Clenching his jaw, he opened the door for her, and when she threw him a sad smile in lieu of saying good-bye, he feared there would be no coming back from this.
Chapter Seventeen
Before the sun came up the next morning, Ainsley was on the road. She didn’t know how early Brock got up, but she didn’t want to take a chance on running in to him before she’d gotten away. It was Saturday, so at least she hadn’t had to miss work. Now, as she drove west along the Interstate, she forced her thoughts away from Brock and to where she was headed.
An image of the Pacific Ocean filled her mind. Her parents had taken her and Wes to the Oregon coast when they were kids, and she’d loved it. The sound of the waves, the cry of the seagulls, the salt-filled air. Yes, that’s exactly what she needed. They’d stayed in Cannon Beach. That’s where she would go.
With a destination in mind, her heart lifted, and she even managed to smile.
First thing Saturday morning, Brock went for a run. He’d missed his workouts this week, but he didn’t regret the time he’d spent in Rosebridge—he’d needed this time to say good-bye to his father. As he jogged along the familiar streets, his mind went to Ainsley. After he showered, he would go to her house and have a frank talk with her, find out what was going on. He was leaving the next day, and before he flew back to Sacramento he needed to clarify where their relationship was headed. Smiling as he remembered their kiss, he knew he wanted to pursue a relationship with her.
Then her words filled his mind, the words telling him that she didn’t want the same thing, that she only wanted friendship. Yet her reaction to his kiss belied those words.
Confused by the mixed messages, he was determined to find a way to change her mind.
Confident that this would all work out, he continued his run.
An hour later, showered and feeling good, Brock walked over to Ainsley’s house. As far as he knew, she wasn’t working, but he’d never confirmed what her plans were, so when he knocked on her door and no one answered, he was disappointed but not terribly surprised.
Eager to talk to her, he sent her a text as he stood on her porch: Would love to see you. When will you be home?
Then he walked back to his house, ready to finish up packing his dad’s garage.
Ainsley heard her phone chime a text as she drove. An image of Brock’s face jumped into her mind and she wondered if he’d discovered yet that she’d left. Then again, it could be from Tommy, warning her on the kiss Tessa may have witnessed the night before.
Heart pounding, she grabbed her phone from the cup holder and glanced at the screen. The text was from Brock, but she couldn’t read it in the short glance. Her lips hovering between a smile and a frown, she set her phone back in the cup holder, then she looked at her gas gauge. At the next gas station she would pull off and fill up her tank while also checking her messages. And while she was at it, she’d arrange for a place to stay that night.
Twenty minutes later she pulled next to a gas pump. After her tank was filled, she parked in front of the minimart, anxious, yet apprehensive, to read Brock’s text.
She read his message twice. He wanted to see her. Would love to see her. Devastated that that wouldn’t happen, she felt heat building behind her eyes. Blinking rapidly to clear the tears that insisted on filling her eyes, she sighed, then typed a response: I needed time to think, so I’ve gone out of town. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you good-bye.
Finger poised over the Send button, she feared being drawn into a discussion
with him. If he pressed her for more, would she break? Would she tell him about the deal she’d made with Tommy? What would Brock do if he found out? Would he beat Tommy into unconsciousness?
That would send Brock to prison for sure.
He’d been so contrite about what had happened that she didn’t really believe he’d go after Tommy, but she couldn’t take the chance. Besides, her mind was already made up. She’d made a promise and she wasn’t going to break it.
With a soft sigh, she pressed Send and mentally crossed her fingers that he would leave it at that.
Next, she looked up hotels in Cannon Beach, and after a few phone calls she found one with a vacancy, one right on the beach. A resort and spa. Booking it, she allowed a small smile to curve her lips. A room overlooking the ocean, a massage, and a walk along the beach. Yes, that was just what she needed.
Then she turned off her phone—she didn’t need the distraction of messages from Brock.
After driving for ten hours, she arrived in Cannon Beach in the late afternoon and drove straight to the resort. Climbing out of her car, she smiled, then she closed her eyes as she tilted her head back to soak up the sun. Drawing in a lungful of fresh ocean air, she sighed in contentment.
Ten minutes later she was checked into her room, and thanks to a cancellation, she was scheduled for a massage later that evening. She stood on her balcony overlooking the ocean, listening to the waves crashing onto the shore, then the hiss of the ocean as it slid across the sand.
A sense of peace settled over her, and she knew leaving town had been the right thing to do. Even so, she couldn’t get Brock off of her mind. She went back into her room and took her phone from her purse before turning it on.
Eager for some sort of contact with him, she waited while the phone booted up, and when it was done, she saw there were two messages. Tapping the icon, she nearly held her breath, then she saw that both texts were from Brock: I need to talk to you.
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