Page 33 of Coming Home

His eyes softened. “That—and a whole lot more.”

He gave her a lingering kiss, and Ainsley wanted to pinch herself to see if this was truly real.

Jackson broke the kiss and glanced at his watch. “It’s too late for the walk on the beach I had planned for us. Besides, it was misting again as I helped Jimmy bring everything inside. How about we take the time to put away all the supplies sitting in theses boxes and then watch a movie? I hear you’re a fan of old ones.”

“I love black-and-white ones from the thirties, forties, and fifties. Dramas. Film noirs. And I also have a thing for the seventies.”

He smiled. “That’s a decade of films I’m familiar with. I took an elective film class at USC for my undergraduate degree. We studied all the greats. Coppola. Scorsese. Lumet. Altman. Kubrick.”

She placed a palm against his chest. “Ah, I see you aren’t a beginner, after all.”

He clasped her shoulders. “But I am about old black-and-white films. I’m ready to learn, Ainsley. Whatever you want to teach me.”

“I love the classics. Casablanca. Sunset Boulevard. Rebecca. All About Eve. On the Waterfront. Inherit the Wind. Don’t get me started because I could go on all night.”

Jackson kissed her. “I could do this all night. How about we watch one of you favorites—and then make out like high schoolers?”

She laughed. “You are a man with a plan. I like that idea. A lot. Especially the kissing part.”

They opened the boxes they had brought home from Portland. Ainsley told him about some of her favorite films and why she liked them. As they put away all the new supplies and equipment, she thought how happy she was, having Jackson here. Talking to him. Kissing him. Spending time with him.

Once everything had been put away, he told her he would run down to Crust ’n Stuff and pick up a pizza for them to nibble on as they watched her choice of movie. He left and she went upstairs, cuing up Casablanca, which she considered the best film ever made. Most critics went with Citizen Kane. While she liked that film, she thought it fell flat in its last few minutes. Nothing about Bogart and Bergman was boring, though. She only hoped Jackson would enjoy the movie as much as she did.

Making a decision, she went to a drawer in the kitchen and removed a key ring, placing it in her pocket. She went and freshened up a bit, removing her hair from its habitual ponytail, which she had worn to keep it out of her face as she carried in her purchases. She brushed it until it gleamed and smoothed lotion along her hands and arms. Maybe she would splurge and buy some new perfume since she had used the last of hers for her date at the Old Coast Pub House.

Jackson returned with the pizza, and Ainsley pulled cans of sparkling water from her refrigerator as he collected plates and napkins. They took the pizza to her small living room, and she started the movie. He asked her to stop it several times, and they talked about a scene and its characters. She was amazed at how he picked up on small details that many people missed until their third, fourth, or fifth viewing of the film. She supposed he was used to drilling down and finding the small stuff in the cases he tried.

Once the movie ended, she turned off the TV. His arm was around her shoulders, and he took her chin in hand and pressed his lips to hers. For an hour, they made out like horny teenagers. Ainsley was giddy—and breathless—when they finally stopped.

“Let’s clean this up,” Jackson said. “I need to go. We both need to get some sleep. Tomorrow, I want us to go for a bike ride and a picnic on the beach.”

“Will there be any time set aside for kissing?” she teased.

He kissed her hard. “Definitely. Not on our bikes. I’m not that skilled. But I think a picnic lends itself to kissing. Lots and lots of kissing.”

Jackson kissed her again. She was sad when he broke the kiss, knowing he would be leaving now.

Walking him to the door, he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly.

“I’ll miss you,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Text me before you go to sleep. And when you wake up tomorrow morning.”

“I won’t text you that early. But I will before I ride my bike over to Boo’s. What time do you want me?”

“As early as you like. I’m not meeting with Gage tomorrow. And I’ll get in a quick run and shower before you do show up.”

“Okay, I’ll be there at nine.”

“Nine?” he protested. “That’s late.”

“Eight then,” she compromised.

He kissed her. “Eight is way better than nine.”

Ainsley pulled the key ring from her pocket and handed it to him. “The gold one is the key to my apartment. The silver is to the back door of the bakery. I want you to have them.” She smiled. “After all, you are my boyfriend. We are seeing each other exclusively.”

Jackson glanced from the keys to her. “This means a lot. You’ve put your faith in me. In us.” He kissed her softly. “I’m not even gone and I already miss you, Ainsley.”

“Same.”

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