Page 50 of Resist

“The boat belongs to Lucas Whiting.”

“The billionaire?”

Coulton wasn’t surprised she recognized the name. The Whitings were to Baltimore what the Kennedys were to Martha’s Vineyard.

He nodded. “He’s a generous donor for Big Brothers Big Sisters and a huge hockey fan. Our paths have crossed at a few charity fundraisers and at Pat’s Pub.”

At her curious glance, he went on to explain, “Pat’s Pub has become the place the Stingrays go after games to either celebrate or drown our sorrows. Lucas is married to Pat’s granddaughter, Kaitlyn, so we’ve thrown back a few pints there together. He’s a great guy, and he was more than happy to let us borrow the yacht for our date.”

“Why would you do this?”

“I wanted to do something special for you.”

“Yeah. But you didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” she insisted. “In case you didn’t already know, I’m kind of a sure thing.” She gave him a self-deprecating smile, and while he wanted to return it, the visit with her family was too fresh in his mind. Ainsley had too many people in her life constantly tearing her down. He wanted to build her up.

He ran a knuckle gently down her bruised cheek. “You’ve had a rough week, Ainsley. You deserve a break. And I didn’t do this as a way to get you into my bed. I did it because you’re worth it.”

The incredulous look she shot him proved that, while she seemed like a confident woman most of the time, her opinion of herself was on shaky ground, no doubt impacted by the cruelty of her dad and brother. “You don’t know me very well,” she murmured, frowning.

He wanted to argue that he’d learned so much in those sad, soulful eyes of hers, but he let her comment stand because it served his purpose. “Then let’s take tonight to get to know each other.”

“Why?”

Now it was his turn to frown, confused. “Why?”

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

And there were those trust issues again. Ainsley was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, expecting him to reveal some ulterior motive.

“I know you don’t, and I’m not exactly sure how to convince you I’m here because I’m interested in you. Fascinated by you, actually,” he said softly. “So can I ask you to trust that there are no strings attached to this, no powder kegs waiting to blow?”

She sighed. “I don’t exactly excel at trust.”

“I understand that, but will you try? For me?”

Ainsley studied his face for several moments, chewing on her bottom lip, then she nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” Coulton tapped his glass against hers, the two of them sealing that concession with a silent toast. “There’s a chef on board, cooking us dinner, which,” he glanced at his watch, “should be ready in an hour or so. I thought we could have a drink or two down here, then head up to eat and enjoy the view from the deck. Sound good?”

“I…” Ainsley shook her head, still flabbergasted. “This is all too much. How much money is this costing you?”

Coulton sighed, then pointed to himself. “Rich hockey player, remember? And it’s not too much. You work your ass off to support your unappreciative family. I thought it was about time someone did something nice for you.”

Finally, he saw a bit of that protective shell she encased herself in begin to crack. Especially when she softly said, “Thank you.”

Ainsley wasn’t much of a crier. He’d learned that the hard way, watching her after the attack in the tavern, and even earlier this evening when Mick and her brother were pelting her with brutal insults. However, right now, he thought he saw a sheen in her eyes, and it moved him.

Pain and cruelty didn’t make her cry, but kindness did?

The yacht began to move, so the two of them walked over to the couch and sat down.

She twisted to face him, her leg bent. “So, what should we talk about?”

“Since this is our first official date, I suppose we could work our way through the usual list of get-to-know-you questions.”

“There’s a list?”

He laughed. “I’ve never looked, but twenty bucks says I could google it and find at least fifty first-date conversation starters.”

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