Page 7

CHAPTER SIX

Coulton whistled happily as he tied his tennis shoes.

Monday had finally arrived. He’d had an away game in Philadelphia on Saturday that had eaten up his weekend and kept him from seeing Ainsley since their amazing night together.

He’d spent every second since dropping her off at her place replaying Thursday night and Friday morning, over and over. After securing her agreement to a date, he’d coaxed her into taking all her clothes off and crawling back into bed, where they fed each other bacon, strawberries, and croissants before burning off the calories with the world’s greatest workout.

Sex with Ainsley was off the charts. He’d had some good sex with Evelyn, but Ainsley took it to the next level. She was adventurous and fit, and her kinks lined right the hell up with his. Evelyn had preferred a gentle touch, and on the rare occasions when he’d let his rougher side out, sucking her nipples too hard or nipping her neck or shoulder, she’d complained about him hurting her.

Ainsley, on the other hand, seemed to crave the pleasurable pain he offered. Then she went one better and gave him the same. Because, like her, he loved the sting of her nails digging into his skin or the way she pinched his arms, holding on for dear life as he fucked her into the mattress.

“Jesus, man. You keep grinning like that and people are going to wonder about your mental state,” Tank teased.

“Thank God, it’s finally fucking Monday,” his teammate Victor added. “Maybe now he’ll calm the fuck down over this new chick.”

Coulton had filled his buddies in about Ainsley on the bus ride to Philadelphia. They’d been happy for him in terms of breaking his long dry spell, and Blake, a Baltimore local, had been amused that he’d met her in a dive bar in Cherry Hill.

“I have no intention of calming down,” Coulton said, laughing. “I’m crazy about this girl.”

Tank groaned. “Fucking hell, man. You’re starting to sound like Preston. You know you can sleep with a woman without dating her for a hundred years.”

Preston, their team romantic, had been swearing for nearly a year that he’d met and lost his soul mate at a holiday party, the man comparing every woman he’d met since then to Chelsea. Unfortunately for Preston, all those other women had come up short.

Tank persisted. “Now that you’re back in the land of the fucking, why don’t you play the field for a little while? Because you let way too much time pass getting over that last woman.”

Coulton wanted to insist that he hadn’t spent the entire two years since his split with Evelyn, nursing a broken heart. But it was hard to win that argument, given his lack of dating since then.

He’d genuinely thought Evelyn was the one, so it had shaken him for a few months when she’d called and told him it was over. Coulton hadn’t been a big fan of the long-distance deal either, but he’d thought they were making it work. Sort of.

In hindsight, he respected Evelyn’s strength when it came to doing the hard thing and moving on.

“I don’t need to play the field,” Coulton said. “Why would I look for someone else when Ainsley is so awesome?”

Blake gave Coulton a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’ve found someone you like.”

Up until a few weeks ago, Blake would have been firmly in Tank’s camp, suggesting Coulton not be in such a hurry to tie himself down. However, his teammate’s tune was starting to change, thanks to the woman across the hall he’d decided to co-parent a puppy with. Erika and Blake had been neighbors and best friends for years, but it looked like that relationship status might be shifting into something more serious. Coulton hoped that was true because he really liked Erika, who’d become a member of their friend group, joining them for pizza and game nights.

Coulton hoped Ainsley would fit just as well with his friends, though he wasn’t sure how to draw her in, considering she worked six nights a week. Money was obviously a big issue for the family, and since she got zero help from her deadbeat brother, she was left to earn all the money to pay the bills.

He’d spent a good bit of the weekend wishing he could find a way to lighten her load, but they were nowhere near that level in this…relationship, he labeled it. Screw what Tank thought. He’d gone out with enough women in the past two years to know when something special was staring him in the face.

“I’m fucking out of here,” Victor grumbled, pulling on his leather jacket. “Got a hot date myself.”

“Really?” Tank brightened, actually believing Victor, the grumpiest homebody of them all.

Coulton enjoyed shooting his friend down when he said, “Say hi to Pip from us.”

Tank scowled. “Your date is with your niece?”

Victor smirked. “Promised to take her to Build-A-fucking-Bear.” Victor’s four-year-old niece, Phillipa, had her uncle tied around her little finger. “See you tomorrow.”

Coulton rose. “I’m out too. Picking Ainsley up at six. Catch y’all on the flipside.” He flashed them the peace sign as he left the arena and headed to his truck in the parking lot, anxiously anticipating the night to come.

He typically wasn’t the kind of guy who showed much emotion, his teammates calling him the Gentle Giant due to his easygoing nature and mild-mannered disposition. However, neither of those laid-back attributes was present when it came to Ainsley.

With her, he’d experienced a wide array of strong emotions. It had started out as an overpowering attraction, followed by outright fury the night of her attack. That had morphed into a bone-chilling terror as he considered what could have happened to her. From there, he had to deal with frustration over not being able to protect her. And since Thursday night, he’d run the gamut from happiness to impatience over being away from her to right now, when he was so fucking excited, he could barely contain himself.

The second he climbed into his truck, his phone rang. Smiling at the caller ID, he answered it, his dad’s voice coming over the speakers.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Haven’t had a chance to talk to you since Saturday. It was a great game, son.”

It hadn’t been, at least not from Coulton’s perspective. He was his own biggest critic, so he counted every puck he let get by him as a personal failure. Despite their win against Philadelphia, he’d let in two goals that he really should have saved. Not that his father, who was his number one fan, would agree. Win or lose, Chase Moore always found something positive to say about the game and Coulton’s performance.

“Thanks. It was a little too close for my comfort though.”

Their win came in overtime, so it was hard-earned. They discussed the game for a few minutes more.

“How is Slade doing in school?”

“He’s doing good. Real good.”

Coulton spoke to his parents a few times a week, and they also had what he called the Family of Three text thread. As an only child of an older couple who had given up hope on getting pregnant when he came along, Coulton had spent his entire life wrapped securely in his parents’ love.

They hadn’t had a lot of money when Coulton was a kid, his dad working in an automotive factory, his mother an aide in a kindergarten classroom, but they’d been rich in love. When Coulton expressed an interest in hockey, his parents never blinked twice when signing him up, even though it was an expensive sport. Instead, Dad had started delivering pizzas during his off-hours, while Mom did seamstress work on the side. They’d found a way to help him pursue his dreams.

The first thing he’d done after signing with Vancouver was buy his parents a house. It had always been his mother’s dream to have a yard with a flower garden. Being able to hand his parents the key to that house after all the sacrifices they’d made for him had been one of the best moments of his life. Mom had cried when they’d walked through the bright, airy house, located in a suburb of Detroit. And while his father hadn’t shed any tears, they’d been evident in his voice when he’d hugged Coulton and thanked him.

Dad had since retired from the factory, but Mom still worked as an aide, claiming she didn’t know what she’d do with herself if she didn’t see “her kids” every day.

“Hoping we can see Slade when we’re in town for Thanksgiving,” Dad added. Because of Coulton’s busy schedule, all holidays that occurred between the months of October and May were celebrated in Baltimore and around the Stingrays games. Then, each summer, he spent a week back home in Detroit with them.

His parents had met Slade last Christmas during their visit, when they’d accompanied Coulton to drop off presents for the boy and his family.

“I think we can make that happen,” he assured him. “He was just asking about you and Mom the other day. Wondering when you were coming back. I think you made quite an impression on him when you gave him that Detroit Tigers jersey.”

“Had to make sure he was rooting for the right baseball team.”

“Yeah, about that,” Coulton joked, both of them perfectly aware of Slade’s undying love for the Orioles. They chuckled.

“So what else is new?” Dad asked.

Coulton hadn’t had a chance to tell his parents about Ainsley yet.

“I met a woman.”

“Finally,” Dad exclaimed excitedly. “Tell me all about her.”

Coulton grinned. “Her name is Ainsley Hall, and she runs a bar in Cherry Hill, close to where Slade lives.”

“That’s a pretty rough area, isn’t it?”

“It is, but Ainsley’s lived there her whole life. The bar she runs, Mick’s Tavern, reminds me of Moxie’s. That’s the reason I stopped in.”

“How long have you been going out?”

“Tonight is our first official date.”

“Tonight. Well, how about that? I hope your mother and I can meet her over Thanksgiving too.”

While Coulton liked that idea, he was certain Ainsley, who seemed determined to keep pushing him away, would be less thrilled about it. Clearly, there was something holding her back from getting close to him, but he wasn’t going to let that deter him. The more he got to know her, the more he liked her.

Every now and then, he’d catch a glimmer of fondness in her eyes whenever she looked at him that told him this thing between them was worth the effort. When he considered her upbringing, it wasn’t surprising that she had trust issues. He was also starting to get a sense that her past relationships played a part in that prickly exterior she wore in an attempt to protect herself.

“Looking forward to seeing you guys. It’s been too long.” Coulton hadn’t seen his parents since August.

“Agree. Your mother has already pulled the suitcases out of the attic and planned her wardrobe. As always, she will be overpacked.”

Coulton laughed. There was nothing his mother loved more than loading up a suitcase. “I’ll text you tomorrow,” Coulton promised. “To let you know how the date goes.”

“Have a good time, son.”

Coulton disconnected the call as he pulled in front of Ainsley’s building. He was a few minutes early, but that was by design. He suspected Ainsley would meet him on the street. It was hard getting her to talk about herself, so he was going to steal an inside look. He was curious about where she lived, and he prayed her apartment wasn’t as decrepit as the outside of the building suggested.

Plus, he wanted to meet her father. His opinion of Mick was pretty damn low right now, and he couldn’t help but hope the guy wasn’t as big an asshole as he sounded. He wasn’t holding out much hope, but he was an optimist at heart.

Locking his truck, he walked into the apartment building. The interior hallway was dim and smelled like a sewer.

Climbing three flights of rickety stairs, he lifted his hand, about to knock, when the door flew open. Just as he expected, Ainsley was there, in her jacket, her keys and phone in hand.

“You didn’t have to come up here,” she said quickly.

“Who’s at the door?” a gruff voice called.

“Just a friend,” Ainsley yelled back. “I told you I was going out.”

Coulton peered over her shoulder into the apartment, overwhelmed by the stench of stale cigarette smoke.

“You don’t have any fucking friends,” her dad huffed back. That pronouncement was backed up with a loud, hacking cough that sounded dangerously wet and unhealthy.

“I’d like to meet your dad,” Coulton said.

Ainsley’s eyes flashed with panic, quickly followed by stubbornness.

“Please,” he added, when it looked like she was going to shove him back into the hall.

After a moment, she sighed, resigned, and moved back to open the door wider.

Coulton stepped inside.

The condition of Ainsley’s apartment was worse than the outside of the building, something he hadn’t thought possible. There were old water stains on the ceiling and along one wall that indicated there’d been a leak upstairs at some point. The carpet was stained in so many places, Coulton couldn’t tell what the original color had been. The paint on the wall was peeling and the furniture was older than him.

Sitting on a tatty recliner was Ainsley’s dad. Mick was dressed in a white wifebeater that was stained with something that looked like orange Cheetos dust. His stomach peeked from the bottom where the hem had ridden up and because his gray sweatpants hung low on his hips. He wore socks on his feet, though both had sizeable holes, which his big toes had pushed through. His complexion was almost gray, which couldn’t be good, and he was hooked up to oxygen.

Despite the fact the man wasn’t well, he managed to shoot Coulton the dirtiest look he’d ever received.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked in breathless gasps.

“Coulton Moore,” he said, introducing himself. Ordinarily, he’d hold his hand out to shake when meeting his date’s father, but Mick didn’t look like the handshaking type.

“Moore,” Mick muttered to himself, and Coulton got the sense he was trying to place the name.

“This is my dad, Mick Hall.” Ainsley was obviously ready to get the hell out of the apartment. Not that Coulton could fault her for that.

“Nice to meet you,” Coulton said, receiving the same befuddled look from Mick that he got from his daughter whenever he said something polite.

“So…” she started, turning toward the door. “We really need to?—”

“Get me a beer before you go,” Mick demanded.

Ainsley drew in a slow breath. “Mick. You shouldn’t?—”

The man exploded. “Get me the fucking beer, Ainsley! Don’t need a sermon about not drinking with my meds. Like I give a fuck.” By the end of his tirade, he was struggling to breathe, but he persisted, banging his fist on the arm of his recliner.

Ainsley stormed to the kitchen, returning with a can of Busch Light. She slammed it down on the side table, then turned toward Coulton. “Ready?”

Coulton nodded.

Before they made it to the door, it opened, and her brother walked in.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Ainsley muttered under her breath.

Eli smirked when he looked at her bruised face. “Found yourself another winner, I see, Painsley,” he said, gesturing toward Coulton.

“Excuse me?” Coulton said through gritted teeth. He’d been hoping to run into her brother ever since the attack in the bar. He didn’t consider himself a violent person, but damn if Eli Hall didn’t bring out the beast in him.

Eli barely spared him a glance. Obviously, her brother didn’t recognize him from their run-in at the tavern. Then, as Coulton took a closer look, he noticed the red-rimmed eyes and blown pupils. The asshole was stoned out of his mind.

“Word of advice. Hide your scissors around her,” Eli slurred, chuckling over the idea that Coulton had hit his sister.

Coulton didn’t give a shit if the man was high or not. He grabbed him by the shirt, shaking him until Eli managed to—at least partially—focus on him.

“You again,” her brother said, when he finally recognized him.

“Me,” Coulton said hotly. “You think it’s funny that she got hurt?”

“Coulton,” Ainsley started, but he shook his head, pissed as hell about how her brother and father treated her. No wonder Ainsley always looked equal parts confused and shocked whenever he did or said something nice. She sure as shit didn’t get any kindness here, despite the fact she was the only one working her ass off to keep the family afloat.

“I would never hit a woman.” Coulton shoved Eli into the wall. “But I have no problem teaching assholes like you a lesson or two about how women should be treated.”

“Seriously, Coulton,” Ainsley tried again. “He’s a lost cause.”

“ You’re to blame for those bruises.” Coulton tightened his grip when Eli tried to pry his fingers off.

“I didn’t lay a fucking hand on the stupid cunt!” Eli protested. “Tell him, Ainsley.”

How the hell Ainsley had turned out as amazing as she had after spending a lifetime with these two assholes was beyond him.

“Those thugs you sent to the tavern the other night did this to her.”

Eli blinked a couple times, as his drug-addled brain tried to process those words. “You pay ’em the money?” Eli asked.

Coulton shoved Eli against the wall again, hard enough that some of the peeling paint fell off, showering the man in white flecks. “Are you serious? All you care about is the money? They beat your sister up! They were going to rape her.”

“They stole my money, you fucking idiot,” Mick said, clearly considering that the more serious issue.

Ainsley’s hand was still on his forearm. “Coulton,” she said softly. “Please. Let’s just leave.”

He looked at her, forcing himself to calm down. It took some effort, but he didn’t want to upset her, so he released her brother.

“They got their money?” Eli asked Ainsley again. Obvious, she’d been right when she said her brother was laying low, hiding from the thugs.

“Not all of it.”

Eli ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Fuck.”

Mick belched, then breathlessly barked, “They got two hundred dollars of my money, you worthless prick.”

His son rolled his eyes. “So fucking sue me, Mick.”

Mick put the leg of his recliner down, leaning forward, though it took some effort. “What the fuck did you say to me?”

Eli laughed. “Come at me, old man. I ain’t afraid of you. You’re already huffing and puffing. Why the fuck don’t you do us a favor and just die already?”

Jesus. What the hell was wrong with these guys?

Apparently, Eli had been right about Mick’s posturing, because the old man made no attempt to rise. His breathing was labored, his gray face now blotchy and red from even that limited amount of exertion.

“Fucking useless kids,” Mick muttered darkly.

“Come on.” Ainsley tugged on his arm. “Let’s get out of here, Coulton.”

Mick had been scowling at Eli, but he turned his attention back to them when she said his name. His eyes widened. “Wait. Did you say your last name was Moore?”

Coulton nodded.

“You’re the goalie for the Stingrays,” Mick said.

“Huh?” Eli grunted.

“I thought your name sounded familiar.” Mick looked at Ainsley. “How the fuck did you land this guy?”

“The same way she lands ’em all,” Eli sneered. “The whore spread her legs.”

Coulton took a step toward her brother, ready to tear the prick from limb to limb, but Ainsley stepped between them.

“We’re leaving,” she said.

“I don’t think we are,” Coulton replied, fists clenched. “Not until he understands he can’t say shit like that.”

Ainsley placed her hand in the center of Coulton’s chest. “He’s not worth it. Trust me.”

“If you think I’m going to let him talk to you?—”

“Please!” Ainsley said almost desperately. “Can we just get the hell out of here?”

Coulton glanced from Mick to Eli…and he realized Ainsley was right. These men weren’t deterred by fists or words. They were evil, selfish pricks, right to the core, and there was nothing he could do or say to them that would make a damn bit of difference in the way they treated Ainsley.

He covered the hand still on his chest, wrapping his other arm around her waist. “Okay. Let’s go.”

They’d just crossed the threshold when Eli called out, “Hey, how much do goalies make?”

Coulton ignored him, and the two of them walked out of the apartment, Mick and Eli erupting into a shouting match before the door even closed behind them.

Ainsley preceded him down the stairs, holding herself stiffly. She was silent until they stepped out onto the street.

She stopped right outside the door. “Maybe we should just forget this.”

“What? Why?”

“Coulton. I told you before. We come from two very different worlds. That up there?” she said, pointing upward. “That dumpster fire is just another Monday night.” She closed her eyes wearily.

He cupped her cheek, waiting until her gaze met his. “They’re assholes, but that’s on them. Not us. So we’re just going to say fuck ’em and have an awesome time.”

She gave him a hint of a smile. “Fuck ’em?”

“Fuck ’em.” He reclaimed her hand, leading her to his truck. Opening the passenger door, he waited until she was buckled in before closing the door, circling the front, and climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Where are we going?” she asked, once he’d pulled out onto the street.

“It’s a surprise.” Given what he’d just witnessed in her apartment, he was glad he’d gone the extra mile for tonight’s date. When he’d set it up, he’d been hoping to knock a few more items off her list of “never” experiences. Now, he was grateful for the chance to spoil her, to show her what she was worth. Because he hated the way Mick and Eli continually tore her down, treating her with complete disrespect.

She narrowed her eyes. “I hate surprises.”

He chuckled. “This is a good one. Promise.”

Coulton turned on the radio and hit an upbeat playlist on Spotify, hoping that happy music would help erase the shit show they’d just left from her mind.

When Ainsley started humming along to “Brown Eyed Girl,” he grinned, then glanced in her direction as he pulled into the parking lot of the marina.

“What are we doing here?”

“I noticed you like looking at the water when you’re at my place. Thought maybe you’d enjoy a closer view.”

“Cool. It’s a nice night for a walk,” she said as they got out of the truck.

Coulton shook his head, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “We’re not walking.” He pointed to the yacht in the third slip. “I borrowed my friend’s boat. We’re going on a cruise down the Patapsco River.”

The look on Ainsley’s face was worth every second he’d just endured with her family.

“ What? ”

Coulton guided her toward the slip, but when he started to help her aboard, she dug her heels in.

“Wait. Are you serious?”

He nodded, but she still didn’t move. Coulton was amused by the suspicious look on her face. “This isn’t a boat, Coulton. It’s a yacht.”

“Pah-tay-to, pah-tah-to.”

“You can’t be serious. People don’t just loan out their yachts,” she said.

“Of course, they do.” He remained on the deck with his hand outstretched.

Her suspicion took some time to fade. “We can really get on?” she asked, as she stepped onto the deck, glancing around guiltily like they were breaking some law.

“Yes, wildcat. We can get on. They’re expecting us.”

As if on cue, the captain appeared, approaching them with a wide smile. “Coulton Moore?”

He nodded. “That’s me. And this is Ainsley Hall.”

The captain shook both of their hands. “Captain Rogers. It’s a pleasure to have you on board tonight. How about I give you a quick tour and then we can shove off.”

Captain Rogers was a friendly man with a good sense of humor and an obvious love for the water. Ainsley hung on every word he said as he shared a few anecdotes about his time in the Navy, and her eyes nearly popped out of her head as he showed them the entire yacht, from the indoor saloon to the spa deck to the outdoor dining area.

Once the tour was complete, the captain left them below deck in the saloon, both of them with a glass of wine in hand, before he excused himself to start the cruise.

“I can’t believe someone let you borrow their yacht.” Ainsley remained in the middle of the room, looking around like she was afraid to touch anything. “Must be a really good friend.”

“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.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date, so I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh yeah? How long has it been?” Coulton asked, grateful she’d given him an opening. He was curious about her relationship history.

“Just over two years.”

While he hadn’t been in a relationship almost the same amount of time, he’d at least re-entered the dating game. “That is a long time. Bad breakup?”

“I…” Ainsley looked around the saloon, shifting on the couch uncomfortably.

Coulton reached out and grasped her hand. “You said you’d trust me,” he reminded her.

“I said I’d try,” she retorted. She was always going to make him work for things, but he didn’t mind at all. In fact, he loved a challenge.

He narrowed his eyes, and it looked like she was going to relent. However, his request for trust seemed to strengthen her resolve in a different direction—an uncomfortable one.

“Maybe it’s better to just get this past-history part over with. Then you’ll see why this thing between us…”

She didn’t finish, didn’t need to. She clearly believed his interest in her was finite, that it was going to wane. And now he was coming to understand it was her former relationships convincing her of that, more than anything else. It was time to prove to her there was nothing about her past that could drive him away.

“Tell me,” he urged.

Ainsley glanced around at their surroundings and gave him a sheepish look. “We probably shouldn’t do this on a boat.”

“I think it’s the perfect place. You’re a flight risk.”

She laughed, though the mirth didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah. That’s not the problem. What I meant was, you won’t have a way to escape. You’ll be stuck on here with me.”

“Ainsley. I like you. I have no idea what you think is so bad that I would walk away from you, but I’m asking you to give me a chance to get to know you. The real you.”

She snorted. “Be careful what you ask for.” Then, she pulled her hand out of his, clasping hers together tightly in her lap. Coulton was tempted to tug her hand back, overwhelmed by the desire to touch her, to find a way to set her at ease, but in the end, he decided only his reaction to whatever she said next would do that.

“I’ve only dated three guys. The first one was in high school. Tiger,” Ainsley started.

“Tiger?”

“That was honestly the name his mother put on his birth certificate,” she clarified. “We went out most of our senior year. He was a cheating asshole throughout, sleeping with God only knew how many other girls, some of whom were my friends.”

Aaaaaand now he was starting to understand her trust issues.

“Worst part is, of the three guys I’ve been in relationships with, Tiger was the best of the bunch.”

“Ouch,” he said, his comment having the desired effect.

Ainsley smirked. “Yeah. Ouch. Second boyfriend was Jagger, an alcoholic who was out of work as much as he was in it. He also made my dad and Eli look like choir boys.”

Coulton scowled, recalling Eli’s comment about Ainsley picking another winner. “He hit you?”

Ainsley shook her head. “Only once. He preferred to inflict his pain with hateful words. If he’d hit me, well, I wouldn’t have stuck around for that. I left Mick’s house and moved in with Jagger to escape that shit, so I refused to jump out of the frying pan into the fire. I’m not stupid. Just…poor, which has always limited my options.”

Ainsley had mentioned that her dad beat her before, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. Now that he’d met Mick, he was even more determined to get her the hell out of that apartment once and for all. It was apparent Ainsley didn’t want to be there, either, but she couldn’t afford to move out.

He couldn’t begin to imagine how horrible her childhood had been, but rather than tackle that subject, he continued with the current topic. Because he wanted to know more about this asshole, Jagger. Mainly, what his last name was and where Coulton could find the prick.

“But Jagger did hit you?”

She nodded. “During our last fight, he backhanded me. He was drunker than I’d ever seen him. I’d hit my limit on his bullshit. Told him I was leaving him.”

“Good for you.”

She lifted one shoulder. “He was really pissed. Probably because he was out of work at the time and I was paying the rent, buying the groceries, taking care of everything.”

“What happened after he hit you?”

Ainsley chewed on her lower lip. “You heard my brother’s comment about hiding scissors.”

Coulton nodded. “I thought he was stoned and talking nonsense.”

“Oh, he was stoned, but…” She looked away from him, and Coulton could tell they were reaching what she considered the make-or-break part of the story. “We really should have had this conversation onshore. You’re trapped with me.” She gave him a weak laugh, trying to pass her words off as a joke, but he could see she meant what she said. She expected him to walk.

“Tell me about the scissors.”

“Jagger wasn’t going to stop with just one smack. He was enraged, and I needed to get the hell out of that apartment or he would’ve seriously hurt me. We were in the kitchen and I was backed against a counter, too far away from the knives, which were in a drawer on the opposite side of the room. But there was a pair of scissors on the counter behind me. So when he came at me again, I grabbed them and stabbed him in the shoulder. I guess the pain was bad enough that he sobered up. He called the cops and had me arrested.”

Coulton scowled. “You were arrested?!”

She scooted back a bit, mistaking his anger. He halted her, reaching for her upper arms.

“No. No. I’m sorry,” he said, quieter, hating that she was skittish as a newborn kitten. “It was self-defense, Ainsley.”

She blinked a couple of times, as if trying to decide if she’d heard him correctly.

“ He was the one who should have been arrested,” Coulton stressed.

“I…I know. But I wasn’t really thinking clearly because…I had stabbed him. He lost a lot of blood, and I panicked, thinking maybe I’d hit a major artery or something. The ambulance took him to the hospital and the cops took me in, booked me. I spent the night in jail. Next morning, my court-appointed attorney showed up. He said the same thing you did. It was self-defense.”

“Did they let you out?”

She shook her head. “Not right away. It took my lawyer a few days to convince the judge to let me out on my own recognizance because it was my first offense. It was lucky he did, because there was no way Mick was coughing up bail money.”

Yet another reason for Coulton to hate Mick.

“The day of my trial,” she continued, “I showed up at the courthouse, only to discover that the prosecuting attorney had decided to drop the charges at the last minute. While I didn’t have a record, Jagger did. He’d been arrested four times for assault, drunken bar brawls, shit like that. I guess the prosecutor decided I really had acted in self-defense. So…I was free to go.”

“Good for the prosecutor. Even though I don’t think you should have been arrested and charged in the first place.”

Ainsley shrugged, but he caught the slight smile on her face. “Thanks.”

He scooted toward her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, and giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head. No more distance, he decided, pleased that she’d opened up and shared what was clearly a difficult time in her life. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m still here.”

She laughed. “Yeah, well, it’s that or diving into the river, so…”

“Tell me about guy number three.” Coulton caught the quick flash of pain in her eyes before she shuttered it away, and he began to suspect that this was the guy who’d hurt her the most. Which, when he considered the first had cheated on her and the second had hit her, didn’t bode well for what he was about to hear.

“Montgomery,” she said, lacing the name with a healthy bit of disdain.

“Is that a first or last name?”

“First. He was part of the prosecuting attorney’s team that dropped the charges against me. A junior prosecutor. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, rich, refined, clean-cut, handsome. He caught up to me as I was leaving the courthouse.”

“Why?” he asked.

“He said he was impressed by me. Called me a badass for fighting back against Jagger. I was flattered and shocked that he was flirting with me. Guys like him,” she paused, her gaze resting on his face, as Coulton heard the unspoken and you , “don’t usually look at girls like me. Montgomery was a smooth talker, very good with words.”

“Most lawyers are,” Coulton observed.

“Yeah. I guess they are. Anyway, he invited me out for coffee, and I accepted. We went out, and by the end of the afternoon, we were back at his condo.” She gave him a rueful grin. “Like I said, he was good with words.”

“You started dating?”

“I thought we did.”

Coulton frowned. “He had a different opinion?”

“My relationship with him was sort of uncharted waters for me. Tiger and I were teenagers, so you know what that’s like—making out in friends’ basements and hanging around fast-food places. Jagger was my first adult relationship, but we were both poor as shit, so our dates were limited to Mick’s Tavern or chilling in his bedroom. He’d shared an apartment with four other guys when we first started dating. We only lived together the last year, which was when it all fell apart spectacularly.”

“It was different with Montgomery?”

“Monty had a good job, a great apartment, and a lot of money. For months, we met up a few times a week, either for coffee or dinner. Then we’d always end up back at his place. He was sweet to me—saying nice things, buying me little gifts, giving me flowers. I wasn’t used to any of that. I thought… I thought those things meant he had feelings for me.”

“He didn’t?”

She shook her head. “After six months, it occurred to me that I’d never met any of his friends or work colleagues, and I’d never even spent the entire night at his place because he always had to be up early for work. One night, we were lying in bed, and I told him I wanted to take things to the next level. I’d seen a note on his calendar about his mother’s birthday party, and I asked if I could go with him and meet his family.”

Coulton could already tell he was going to hate where this was going.

“Monty refused.” She paused. “No. It was worse than that. He laughed .”

“Laughed?”

“He said I wasn’t exactly the kind of girl a man took home to meet his parents.”

Coulton wasn’t even sure how to reply to that, because what the fuck?

Ainsley was putting on a good front as she told him the story, but he still caught a glimmer of pain in those sad eyes of her.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he finally asked.

She gave him that damn shrug, trying to act casual about something that had very clearly hurt her.

“When I asked him what kind of girl I was, he pulled off the mask, lost the silver tongue, and said, ‘The kind you fuck.’”

“What’s Montgomery’s last name?” Coulton growled through clenched teeth.

Ainsley smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I thought we were in a relationship, that we had something real, but it turned out, I was nothing more than a booty call. After that, I lost my shit and slapped him.”

“Good for you.”

She shook her head. “He didn’t like that. At all. Or the fact I told him we were done. He had this snakelike-lawyer demeanor. The dude was seriously determined when it came to winning, always bragging about the cases he’d won, losing his shit whenever he didn’t get a guilty verdict. Apparently, that same competitiveness drifted into his personal life, because he refused to accept the idea of me dumping him.

“So…that was when he went for the jugular. He said he’d been planning to break things off with me because his girlfriend, Emma, was returning from Europe. She’d been overseas, studying abroad for a year. I was just warming his bed while he waited for the girl to return who you did take home to meet your parents. Said the fact I was poor made me an easy, cheap lay. The kind who didn’t require more than a hot meal to get me to…” She swallowed heavily. “Spread my legs.”

Coulton tugged Ainsley tight against him, cupping the back of her head as she pressed her face to his chest. He didn’t know why he felt the need to hold her like this, because she wasn’t crying.

Even though she could use a good cry.

“He was an asshole,” he murmured against the top of her head.

“Maybe so, but that fact doesn’t negate that I was an idiot. I had my head turned by his pretty words and face. I should have known a guy like him…”

She straightened up as she looked at him, but she didn’t say anything more.

She didn’t need to, because she’d told him all he needed to know.

Primarily, that he had his work cut out for him.