Page 18 of Coming Home

“Boo’s training,” he said with a smile as she slipped behind the wheel. “See you tomorrow night.”

He closed the door and moved back a few steps as she started the car and pulled away from the curb. Then he went to Dylan’s truck, where his brother-in-law and sister waited for him. Rylie drove away, and Jackson waved to her and then Carter and Tenley, who stood on the porch, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists.

Climbing into the truck, he sprawled in the back seat as Dylan started it.

“How did you like Game Night?” Willow asked. “Even though you were on Team Loser,” she teased.

“I had so much fun that I can actually let go of the loss. You have some terrific friends.”

“You seemed to be interested in Ainsley,” his sister said.

“I’m taking her to dinner tomorrow night,” he informed the couple.

“That was fast work between the house and her car,” Dylan said.

“Oh, I just confirmed our date during that brief walk. Actually, I asked her out this morning.”

“What?” Willow said excitedly. “When did you run into her?”

“You had said some good things not only about her but her baked goods. I decided to stop and take something to Clancy since I remembered what a sweet tooth he had and how he and Boo used to bond over cakes and cookies. Ainsley put together a nice little gift basket for me.” He shrugged. “I asked her out.”

“Ainsley would be good for you, Jackson,” his sister said, her face growing serious. “She’s had a little bit of a tough life. She’s a hard worker, though, and could use a bit of fun.”

“How so?” he asked.

“Her dad died of a sudden heart attack when she was sixteen. Her mom had breast cancer during Ainsley’s middle school years. She beat it—only to have it recur. Mrs. Robinson passed away just as Ainsley graduated from community college.”

“That is rough,” he agreed. “Wait, was she the little girl who always sold desserts before games? I have a vague recollection of hearing about that, but I was always on the field.”

“Yes, that was Ainsley,” Dylan said. “She was hustling when she was a preteen. She sold mostly cookies before the high school football, basketball, and baseball games.”

Willow added, “Along with Rylie, she also had a table set up at summer league baseball games. Rylie spent summers here in the Cove because her dad traveled so much and her mom died when she was young.”

Jackson was even more impressed with Ainsley now. Beautiful and a great work ethic. No wonder she already owned her own bakery.

They arrived back to Boo’s and entered the house. It was just a little after nine and he was a bit restless. Dylan handed the Tupperware containers to Jackson and took Willow’s hand, telling her it was time for bed. By the look in Dylan’s eyes, Jackson knew sleep would be delayed for a while in favor of something else.

He retreated to the kitchen, opening one of the Tupperware containers and removing a chocolate peanut butter cupcake from it. Sealing it again, he poured himself a tall glass of milk and sat at the table, thinking about his new life in the Cove and how it was shaping up. He would soon take over Clancy’s law practice and possibly buy the attorney’s house, as well. Suddenly, it seemed important to him to take Ainsley with him to view the house for the first time, wanting her opinion.

Rinsing his glass, he placed it in the dishwasher and then headed upstairs to bed. Though he rarely went to sleep before midnight, he climbed under the covers just shy of ten.

And fell asleep thinking of Ainsley Robinson.

CHAPTER 7

Ainsley stepped from the shower, wound a towel around her long hair, and then slathered body lotion on her dampened skin. She usually used it instead of perfume, which was far too pricey for a business owner with limited means. She couldn’t remember the last time she had gotten ready for a date. She hadn’t dated much over the years because of family obligations and then school and work. Her focus was on her career goals, and that left little room for seeing men. Not that there were that many single men in the Cove. The few in her acquaintance had recently dropped like flies. Dylan. Carter. Of course, both of them—along with Gage—were like big brothers to her, friends whom she had never had a romantic thought about.

Jackson Martin was an entirely different barrel of fish, as her mom used to say. She still had trouble understanding why he had asked her out. He didn’t seem the type to feel obligated to do something. He wouldn’t do so merely because she had prepared the gift basket for Clancy. It was still hard for her to believe that her childhood crush had asked her out.

Quickly, she applied her makeup and then went to her closet, trying to decide what to wear. She knew women who could artlessly throw outfits together without even thinking about it. Ainsley, however, usually wore jeans with a T-shirt, her chef’s pastry coat over them. Most of her wardrobe beyond that was extremely casual. She did own two dresses, though, that might be suitable for a nice dinner at the Old Coast Pub House. She removed one from the closet and held it up to her. It was a maroon sweater dress, which looked more expensive than its sale price had been. She would pair it with her black pumps and the gold hoop earrings which had belonged to her mom, the only piece of jewelry her mother had ever worn. Neither of her parents had bothered with wedding rings. Her dad, being a mechanic, refused to wear any kind of ring on his hands, saying it was too dangerous in his line of work. Her mom had told Ainsley that money was tight when they married, and she had said she didn’t want an engagement or wedding ring. Ainsley knew her mother would have liked to have had something, even a simple gold band, but she rarely spoke up, always deferring to her husband in matters both large and small.

Ainsley had learned how to be an advocate for herself and her mom, thanks to her mother’s lengthy illness, coupled with her father’s early death.

She dressed and then removed the blow dryer from the hook on the wall, finger-combing her hair as she dried it. It fell about her in soft waves after she finished. She didn’t own a nice evening purse, but Willow had appeared at the bakery today with a small, black clutch that she said she had picked up at a flea market in Paris. Ainsley thanked her friend for the use of the bag this evening and now transferred the few items she would need into it.

The loan of the purse let Ainsley know that Jackson had shared with his sister that he had a date coming up. She hoped that was a good thing.

Glancing at the clock, she saw she had ten minutes before Jackson would arrive. Sitting on the dilapidated sofa which had come with the apartment, Ainsley wondered how this date would go. What they would talk about.

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