Page 71 of Resist

So nice, she let herself be pulled into the meet and greet with Coulton’s teammates without a moment of hesitation.

* * *

“I love the way you look in that jersey,” Coulton said, placing his hands on Ainsley’s shoulders when he arrived and giving her a kiss on the top of her head.

She looked up at him from her spot at the table. She, Erika, and several other wives and girlfriends had asked for a large table upon arrival. The bartender, Padraig, had helped them pull several tables together, making sure they’d have enough seats for the players when they arrived.

Ainsley patted the empty chair next to her that she’d saved for him. “That was an amazing game.”

Coulton grinned, dropping down next to her. “Careful, wildcat, or you might give people the impression you like hockey.”

She shoulder-bumped him. “Smart-ass. You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Maybe in a decade or two,” he teased.

Ainsley’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of the two of them still being together in a decade. Then she gave herself a mental headshake because it was obvious his words were simply a joke.

She grabbed a pitcher from the center of the table as Padraig arrived armed with frosty mugs for the new arrivals. Coulton and the bartender spoke for a few minutes about the game. It was obvious they knew each other, and Padraig was a huge Stingrays fan. Typically, bars weren’t her chosen place to go to on her day off. Simply because she spent too much of her life in Mick’s Tavern. But Pat’s Pub was the polar opposite of Mick’s. Clean and warm and inviting.

With the arrival of the players, the quiet conversation she’d been enjoying with just the women erupted into a full-fledge celebration, and Ainsley was right in the midst of it all, laughing and talking and…fitting in.

She’d spent too much of today stressing out over meeting Coulton’s friends. Wasted time, she realized, as she looked around the table. Erika winked at her from a few seats away, then turned back to start talking to Blake, who was sitting very, very close to her. Erika had mentioned that she and Blake had adopted a puppy together, and while she made it sound like they’d done so as friends and neighbors, Ainsley had gotten the distinct impression that Erika’s feelings for Blake weren’t as platonic as they seemed.

“I’m going to grab a couple more pitchers,” Coulton said at one point, leaning forward to give her a kiss on the cheek.

Her libido had been on simmer ever since he’d arrived at the pub, because Coulton seriously seemed incapable of sitting next to her and not touching her. Not that she was complaining. She loved the way he rested his arm along the back of her chair, toying with her hair or gripping her shoulder to tug her close. He’d given her no less than fifty sweet kisses on her cheek, forehead, behind her ear, and on her lips. She’d never been with a man who was so open about his affection. Ainsley hadn’t ever considered that was something she would like, but when the man was Coulton, she discovered she liked it very, very much.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m going to run to the bathroom while you’re gone.”

They rose at the same time, Coulton heading for the bar, her toward the back. Before she got halfway across the room, a large party arrived from what she’d learned was Sunday’s Side. Earlier, Erika had explained that Pat’s Pub took up only half of this large building in Fell’s Point, the other half a restaurant owned and operated by the same family, the Collinses.

Ainsley groaned when she recognized several of the men who’d been in the same box as Montgomery.

She saw him before he spotted her, but it was obvious he’d come into the bar looking for her when she watched him scan the room, then smile when his eyes landed on her.

She didn’t return it because, dammit, his presence was the thunderstorm to her parade.

“Ainsley,” he said, approaching her.

“Why are you here?”

His grin faltered in the face of her antagonistic tone. “My buddy, the bachelor, is the world’s biggest Stingrays fan. When he overheard that the players were going to be hanging out here, he begged us to move our after-party to Pat’s. We just had a late dinner at Sunday’s,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the restaurant.

Glancing toward the table she’d just left, she realized several of the guys in Montgomery’s group had walked over to talk to the players.

Montgomery leaned closer, and she caught the smell of bourbon on his breath. Dinner appeared to have muted his drunkenness, but only a little. “I’m not sorry I ran into you again. I was hoping to convince you to go out for that drink with me.”

“No,” she said, not bothering to offer a reason.

“Are you really dating Coulton Moore?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Montgomery gave her a sympathetic look. “Oh, Ains. Are you sure it’s really dating? I mean, look at all those women over there.” He gestured to the gaggle of puck bunnies, who’d been hovering on the perimeter of their group ever since the guys arrived. “The man’s a professional athlete with women throwing themselves at him twenty-four seven. There’s a difference between hooking up and dating.”

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” she spat at him.

He sighed. “I deserve that. But the truth still remains, I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

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