Page 15 of Resist

“That’s seriously cool.”

“Cool enough that you’ll let me take you out to dinner? No hockey game,” he quickly added.

“You mean like on a date?”

Coulton laughed again. “Dinnerisone of the things people do when they go on a date. You don’t hate food too, do you?”

Something shifted in Ainsley’s expression, something that wiped away the easy smile that had just been there. The problem was, Coulton couldn’t understand what he was seeing because she turned to stone, leaving him to wonder if she was mad, sad, scared, or annoyed. It could have been any or all of those things. What the hell had he said wrong?

“Not interested in dating, either.” She turned away from him, wiping the counter behind her—even though it didn’t need to be cleaned—and not bothering to offer him any reason why.

He sat there for a few minutes, trying to figure out how to recover. Ainsley was a puzzle, one he was obsessed with solving.

As she continued to clean the counter, carefully avoiding his gaze through the mirror, he studied her more closely. Her hair hung loose, the ends just brushing her shoulders. She wore a black tank top, so with her back turned, he was able to get a good look at most of the tattoo on her right shoulder.

“Is that an empty birdcage?” he mused aloud, hoping that by changing the subject, she’d relax and chat with him some more.

Ainsley twisted back around slowly. “Yeah.”

“No bird?”

She shook her head. “Nope. It flew away.”

Well, there was definitely a story behind that tattoo, but now, as always, Ainsley shut him down before offering anything more.

Rather than turn from him, she tilted her head, looking at him like she was trying to figure him out too. “You gonna keep coming here?”

Coulton nodded. “Yep.”

“Why?”

He considered lying, because he didn’t want to push her away, but there was a larger part of him that wanted to tell her the truth, simply to see how she would respond. “Because you haven’t agreed to go out on a date with me yet.”

Petey snorted, making it obvious he was eavesdropping on their conversation. “Good luck getting this one out,” he said to Coulton, as he tilted his chin toward Ainsley. “She hasn’t dated since?—”

“Since I got saddled with running this dump,” Ainsley interjected too quickly and too loudly. “This dumpyoucome to every goddamn day.”

That was not what Petey was going to say, but the old guy had clearly gotten the point, and he didn’t seem any more anxious to piss off the bartender than Tuffy had. So, instead, Petey huffed and turned his attention back to the TV.

Oh yeah, Coulton thought. This woman had lots of stories.

And he wanted to hear every single one.

CHAPTERTHREE

Ainsley leaned over the counter,her chin resting on her palm, simply to prop her head up. She was tired as shit and bored out of her fucking mind.

The tavern had been dead most of the night. So dead, she’d considered closing early.

The only problem with doing that was, it meant going home, and she’d rather stay here with the one lonely soul sitting in the corner, nursing a beer, than spend any more time than necessary with Mick.

He was usually in bed by the time she closed for the night, so she could have the living room to herself, watching whatever she wanted on TV, chilling for a few hours before heading to her own bedroom to sleep until eleven. She was a nocturnal creature. Always had been. Her ex, Jagger, used to swear she was part vampire.

Her work and sleep schedule suited Ainsley just fine, because it limited her unpleasant interactions with Mick to a couple hours every morning. Which was two hours too long for her.

She rubbed her eyes wearily, her gaze drifting to the door despite her best efforts to stop looking.

Coulton had shown up two Sundays in a row, so when he didn’t come this past Sunday, she’d been more disappointed than she wanted to admit to herself. The tavern was closed on Mondays, so she had spent all yesterday running errands and telling herself she didn’t give a shit that he hadn’t shown.

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