Page 3 of Resist

Ainsley expected him to smirk, but instead, he just smiled at her again.

“Nice tats,” he said, opening the door to a conversation.

Before she could think better of her actions, she stepped toward him and—God help her—started making small talk.

“Uh…thanks. You have any?”

He shook his head. “No, but I’ve always wanted to get one. Just hard to decide what you want to ink on your skin forever, y’know?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“I guess all of yours have meanings?”

They did, but Ainsley’s reasons for choosing her tattoos were personal. “Sure do. So, what brings you in?” she asked, in an attempt to change the subject. She was still certain he’d made a wrong turn.

Coulton took a swig of his beer. “Got a friend who lives nearby. I’ve driven by the tavern quite a few times the past year. Thought I’d check it out.”

Ainsley frowned, because as uninviting as the inside of Mick’s Tavern was, the outside was worse. “A friend, huh? So you don’t live in Cherry Hill?”

Coulton shook his head. “Nope.”

“Lucky you,” she muttered.

He gave her a curious look.

“You have to know it’s not a great neighborhood,” she added.

“Youlive in Cherry Hill?”

Ainsley nodded. “My whole life.”

“I’m Coulton, by the way,” he said, introducing himself.

“Ainsley Hall,” she replied, just before her phone started ringing.

She pulled her cell out of her back pocket and grimaced when she saw the caller ID. She wanted to ignore the call but couldn’t, on the off chance there was an emergency.

“Excuse me,” she said to Coulton, turning her back to him. “What’s wrong?” she asked, as she answered the phone.

Her father, the only chain smoker she’d ever known who could give Maren a run for her money, had been diagnosed with emphysema and COPD a couple years back. He’d continued to run the tavern for about a year afterward before it got to be too much for him. Nowadays, he just sat in his ratty recliner in the apartment they shared with her useless brother, hooked up to oxygen, watching crime drama on TV all day and waiting to die. Given the gray pallor of his skin lately, she was starting to worry he wouldn’t have much longer to wait.

“You pick up my prescription?” Mick asked…or rather, barked.

“Yeah,” she replied, wondering how in the hell he thought she could forget, given the way he’d badgered her about it all damn morning.

“Good. Just took my last pill.”

“Okay,” she replied.

“Stop on your way home and grab me some nicotine patches. I’m out,” he demanded.

Ainsley closed her eyes, her temper flaring. Why hadn’t he asked for those this morning when he was nagging her about the stupid pills? Now, she’d have to go four blocks in the opposite direction to hit the all-night convenience store before walking home after closing.

The Hall family wasn’t known for their patience, and as she was a Hall and her father’s daughter, she failed to find any. “Why didn’t you ask this morning, Mick?” she asked, voice raised.

Mick, taking exception to her tone, lost his temper bigger. He always did. “Because I didn’t fucking know I was out, you stupid cow!” When she was younger, Mick’s loud, intimidating bellow used to scare her, but nowadays, while his words were still hateful, he couldn’t say them with the same volume and tone. Due to a lack of air, the best he could manage was a wheezy grumble.

“You can’t wait until tomorrow?”

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