Page 19 of Coming Home

And if Jackson would kiss her at the end of the evening.

She had dreamed of kissing the star quarterback her entire seventh-grade year. Everyone in town knew Jackson Martin. He had dated a girl who was head cheerleader, and the two of them had been elected King and Queen of the high school’s homecoming court that fall. Ainsley had yearned for Jackson that entire year.

Then he graduated from high school and left the Cove for college in California, and her crush died with his absence. She had only seen him twice when he came home from college during the Christmas holidays. She hadn’t spoken to him either time, knowing he would have no idea who she was.

She straightened, tossing back her shoulders. Well, he knew who she was now. She would make the most of this date. If they got along, hopefully there would be more of them in the future. If there was no spark between them, she hoped she would be able to count him among her friends.

Her cell sounded, and she glanced down, seeing his text.

I’m here. Eager to see you.

Just reading his words brought a thrill to her, and her heart began beating faster. She stood, smoothing her skirt, slipping into her coat, and then claiming the clutch as she made her way downstairs.

When she unlocked and opened the door, Jackson appeared before her. Butterflies exploded in her stomach. He wore a suit of deep navy, along with a crisp, white dress shirt. The shirt was open at his throat, no tie in sight.

“Hi,” he greeted. “I hope you’re hungry. I’m starving.”

Ainsley locked the bakery’s rear door, and he escorted her to his car, a sleek, sporty sedan. He even opened the passenger door for her, unlike so many other men. Then again, he was Boo’s grandson. He would have impeccable manners. As he came around and climbed into the driver’s seat, she thought this was the first time a man had ever opened a car door for her. Her other dates had texted from their car and sat behind the wheel, waiting for her to come out and get in before they took off. Already, Jackson Martin was a cut above the few men she had gone out with over the last dozen years.

“Hope you don’t mind that I didn’t bother with a tie,” he began as he pulled from the parking space. “I’ve had my share of wearing ties in the courtroom. Although I know Clancy is always seen in his bow tie—and I’m betting he probably sleeps in one—I’m hoping I can be a little more casual as I practice law in the Cove.”

“It is a relaxed place,” she agreed. “I think other than infrequent court appearances, you can easily get by without wearing one. Actually, you probably can just wear a nice shirt and slacks to the office each day. Citizens of the Cove and beyond won’t judge you on what you wear. They’ll be eager to be represented by the area’s most famous athlete.”

“Think so?” He chuckled. “My playing days are far behind me. I am hoping to get in better shape, though. I met with Gage early this morning for a run. He quizzed me about what I’ve done to stay in shape since high school and what I plan to do in the future. We decided to schedule several one-on-one sessions to get me started on the right path.”

“Gage is the best. He’s quiet, but still waters do run deep. I’m glad you’re here and can offer your friendship to him, as well as becoming a paying client. He’s done a fantastic job building his business from scratch.”

“He told me that at this point he has no overhead. That all his sessions take place outdoors, rain or shine.”

“A little rain never hurt an Oregonian,” she teased. “Especially former all-state quarterbacks.”

He glanced to her and then turned his eyes back to the road. “You remember that?”

“How could I not?” she asked. “You always were the talk of the town. Leading Salty Point High to the state football championship your junior year and the semi-finals the next year. Named to the second team state in basketball. District MVP two years in a row in baseball.”

“Wow, I feel like I’m walking down Memory Lane with you. I’m surprised you remember all of that. I barely do.”

“Well, you were a big deal in the Cove when I was in middle school. Middle school girls are very impressionable. Besides, everyone was shocked when you turned down those athletic scholarships and accepted an academic one instead. Speculation went on regarding your decision long after you left the Cove.”

“Is that so? I never knew. Boo wasn’t one for gossip, either starting or spreading it.” He paused. “I loved playing sports. It was my life. At one point, I thought it would be my only ticket out of the Cove. Then Boo had me tested in Portland. It was a long test. Several hours’ worth. I had to score within the upper two percent of the general population in order to qualify and did so.”

“Was it Mensa?”

“The very one. I learned that they have all kinds of opportunities for members. They host lectures and have special-interest groups. Assist researchers in intelligence projects. Arrange regional, national, and international gatherings. I didn’t have time for any of that then. Or even after I finished law school.

“What was important was they told me they could help find me a scholarship to whatever university I wished to attend, in or out of state. Having already been an athlete on winning high school teams, I knew how much time would be necessary to devote to athletics on the college level. I worried my studies would suffer. There was also the possibility of an injury lingering in the back of my mind. I decided I would rather have an academic scholarship and focus on my studies—and my future—instead of spending the bulk of college in practice and on the playing field, missing class because of game commitments.”

“That was an awfully mature decision for a teenager,” she pointed out.

“I had input from others. Boo, of course. Clancy. My coaches and a few favorite teachers, Mrs. Clark, in particular.”

She chuckled. “I think everyone in the Cove goes to Carter’s mom for advice.”

By now they had arrived at the restaurant. Jackson eased into an open parking spot and then quickly got out, coming around to assist her from the car. He escorted her inside, his hand on the small of her back, causing heat to ripple through her. She got a whiff of his cologne, the same scent he wore last night, and blinked rapidly several times, trying to pull herself together.

They approached the hostess’ stand, and Jackson smiled at the woman manning it. Ainsley saw the effect of that smile on the hostess.

“How might I help you?” the woman asked huskily, giving Jackson a look that told him she would be available—all he had to do was ask.

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