Page 7 of Resist

Jesus, Ainsley. Stop flirting.

“Nice bat.”

Ainsley laughed. But before she could say anything else flirty, the room erupted into a flurry of noise and movement as Coulton reclaimed his stool.

Maren slapped Coulton on the back and told him she was buying him a beer. Petey and Brant shifted along the counter so they could sit next to him, asking if he’d ever done any boxing. Another group at a nearby table ordered a pitcher, despite already closing their tab, just in case there was any more excitement, they explained.

The atmosphere in the bar shifted from depressed and silent to something akin to a party. People started talking to each other rather than staring at the TV or their phones, and for the first time in months, someone asked to borrow the darts, asking Coulton if he wanted to play.

Ainsley was shocked when he said yes.

Maren shifted next to her, the two of them leaning against the counter, watching a small crowd of men stand in front of the dartboard, trash-talking and laughing.

“What the hell happened?” Ainsley mused.

Maren chuckled. “Something.”

Ainsley gave her a confused look.

“When is the last time something—anything—happened in this place?” Maren asked.

Ainsley had to give it to Maren. She made a valid point. “Still not sure why he’s here,” she muttered.

Maren shoulder-bumped Ainsley. “Who gives a shit why? I swear to God, I’m pissed I didn’t think to pull my phone out and take a picture of that giant slamming your waste-of-flesh brother against the wall. Nat is getting so lucky tonight.”

Ainsley snorted. Nat was Maren’s longtime girlfriend. “I’m sure Nat will be thrilled to know it was a sexy guy who got you all hot and bothered.”

Maren shrugged. “She doesn’t care where I get inspired as long as she’s the recipient of my creative juices.”

Ainsley crinkled her nose. “Ew. No, no, no. No talking about your juices because…gross.”

Maren barked out a loud, raspy laugh. “Prude.”

“Slut.”

Maren continued laughing, one that dissolved into a wet cough, as she went to see if anyone needed another round.

Ainsley remained where she was, watching Coulton throwing darts with Petey and Brant. When he first walked in, she thought he looked out of place, but his easy camaraderie with guys who were at least twice his age had her rethinking that.

Of course, with his back turned, she also had the opportunity to enjoy the new view. Of his tight ass. Maren made a valid point about Coulton’s ability to inspire.

Ainsley hadn’t felt a sexual attraction to anyone in so long, she thought that part of her had died.

It was now very painfully clear it had not.

Her eyes quickly darted away when Coulton looked over his shoulder and caught her staring at his ass. Her cheeks heated—Jesus, was she blushing?—when he gave her a quick wink.

Ainsley snorted then turned around, pretending to wipe the counter behind her. Unfortunately, a huge mirror hung on that wall, so when she chanced a glance, she saw he was still looking at her and grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

She narrowed her eyes, the two of them staring at each other through the reflection, then she forced herself to look away and escape to the kitchen to regroup, because she wasn’t the type of girl who ogled. Or flirted. Or blushed.

Grabbing a tray of clean glasses, she took a steadying breath, determined to put the pretty man out of her mind and focus on the job at hand.

Something easier said than done when she returned to find Coulton back at the bar.

“Finished playing darts?”

He nodded. “I was putting more holes in your wall than the board.”

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