Page 16 of Coming Home

The group of friends Willow had assembled tonight was nothing short of remarkable. They were intelligent, quick-witted, and funny as hell.

And none interested him more than Ainsley Robinson.

He wouldn’t call her shy, but she was a bit reserved compared to the others present. As the night progressed, however, her competitive spirit had come out, and she became just as boisterous as the others. Jackson couldn’t remember when he had been so attracted to a woman.

Maybe never.

He could see the family resemblance between her and her cousin. Rylie possessed the same, unique periwinkle eye color and smile, but that’s where the resemblance ended. While Rylie was brunette and curvy, Ainsley was blond and much more slender. When she did roll up her sleeves, however, the better to draw, he noticed the strength in her forearms and decided it must be from her baking. Maybe kneading bread.

He had eaten the gingerbread cupcake she had brought. Sweets had never appealed much to him, but the caramelized mango icing, as well as the moistness of the cupcake itself, made it a winner in his book. He was eager to visit her bakery again and peruse the shelves to see what she made and sold. Not only did she need to be creative in what she baked for the community, Ainsley also needed to be a businesswoman. If the cupcake he had devoured was any indication of her skills, she must be very successful. He liked that in a woman.

It was sexy as hell.

Surprisingly, the men had narrowed the gap after the women had surged to an early lead in Pictionary. They were both approaching the end of the game, and it was his turn to roll the die. He did so, landing one space short of the All Play square. Jackson moved to the whiteboard and uncapped the dry-erase marker as he turned over the card.

“Start that timer, Gage. These women are going down.”

Jackson was the best artist on his team, which wasn’t saying much, but he knew exactly what to draw in this case. He felt that competitive wave surge through him, hoping he could pull off a victory for his team and new friends.

It was nothing but silence, and then Carter hollered the correct answer.

“Yes,” he cried, throwing his arms in the air and then enthusiastically fist-bumping Carter for coming up with the correct response so quickly.

Jackson looked at the women, who had gravitated to one side of the room, and said, “I believe we are going to win this game, ladies. Should we start thinking about what dessert we want for the next Game Night?”

“Arrogance does not run in the family,” Willow said, “despite my brother’s comment.” She stood. “And you are going down, Jackson Martin. You and the other guys.”

Willow rolled, landing on the same space her brother had. She took a spot at the easel and drew a card. A smile lit her face. Quickly, she began drawing and within seconds, Tenley shouted out the right answer. The girls applauded themselves. Then the attention turned to Dylan. He didn’t bother to roll the die since anything he threw would put him on the All Play space. He moved in his deliberate fashion to the drawing board and selected the top card but didn’t view it. They had decided previously to let whichever team reached the All Play space first draw only for their team, a subtle change in the rules that Tenley now lamented.

“Pressure’s on, Dylan,” Rylie called out, trying to rattle him.

“We have a better chance with you up there than me,” Gage declared. “I don’t even draw a decent stick person.”

“Come on, Dylan,” Carter encouraged. “We need to wipe the floor.”

Pausing dramatically, Dylan surveyed his audience. “This is for the win.” He lifted the card, studying it a moment. His poker face revealed nothing. Then he set the card aside as Gage started the timer.

Dylan began to draw. The men threw out several answers as Dylan continued adding to his drawing, his mouth tight as he concentrated.

Time ran out, and the girls cheered.

“Was it arachnophobia?” Ainsley asked.

Dylan nodded, and the men groaned as Ainsley took a card and then met Dylan, claiming the marker from him.

“No pressure, Ains,” Gage called out, a huge grin on his face.

“This is nothing compared to what I went through at l’Ecole Len?tre. That was pressure.”

Jackson had heard that name before but couldn’t remember where. He assumed it was the cooking school she had attended in Paris. Maybe Willow had mentioned it to him when she had run into Ainsley in Paris.

Ainsley removed the next card for play from the box. She turned the card over and nodded to herself.

“Start the timer,” she told Gage as she began drawing furiously.

Her teammates called out a few suggestions as she drew. Then Tenley bounded to her feet, and shouted out, “Panama Canal!”

Jackson watched the smile light Ainsley’s face. “Yes!” she cried. “We win!”

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