A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1) (52 page)

They split their time between the beach house and the TriBeCa apartment, which they used primarily during the week and whenever Carter was needed at WCS. The beach house, however, would always be most special to them: a precious getaway they both treasured.

Once she was done unpacking, Kat poured two large glasses of milk and tucked the pack of Oreos under her arm. She handed one glass to Carter and sat down next to him, putting the cookies between them. Carter took all of two seconds to rip the pack open and begin devouring the contents.

“So, look, I was thinking while you were at work,” he mumbled before swallowing the cream from his cookie. “I was thinking that we should exchange gifts today. You know, to celebrate your vacation time.”

Kat looked at him askance. “But it’s not Christmas for another four days. Can’t you wait?” She’d caught him at least half a dozen times shaking and touching the parcels under the tree they’d decorated together two weeks before. “Besides, Nana Boo, Mom, and Harrison will be here then. I’d like to have some gifts to open with them.”

Carter shot a longing gaze at the beautiful Christmas tree. “But …”

Kat laughed. “Oh my God, you’re such a child.”

He grinned, blue eyes sparkling. “Does that mean we can?”

“Okay. Fine,” Kat caved. “But you only get to open one.”

“Yes, Boss.” He sprang up and hurried over to the gifts.

* * *

Carter kneeled next to the tree, pretending to search through the copious number of packages underneath it. He shook, poked, and prodded, and, once he was satisfied he’d made enough of a show, he picked up a small silver package and beckoned Kat over. When she was seated at his side, looking decidedly exasperated, he passed it to her.

“This is from me,” he said softly, kissing her. “Merry Christmas, Peaches.”

“Merry Christmas.” She smiled, excitement creeping in, and began ripping the paper open.

“Oh, Carter,” Kat gasped when she saw the miniature Alice in Wonderland statue, an exact replica of the one in Central Park. “It’s perfect.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she answered, leaning over to kiss him.

“I wanted to get you this because Alice has seen us through so much.”

Kat hummed. “I guess she has.”

“And,” Carter continued, “I thought she should be here for this part, too.”

Kat looked quizzical.

Carter’s heart almost burst from between his ribs as he pulled his hand from his pocket and held out a small blue Tiffany box.

Kat’s eyes widened and snapped to his. “Carter, I—”

“Take it.”

She did and, slower than Carter could bear, she opened it and gasped. The three-carat diamond-and-platinum ring sparkled perfectly under the Christmas lights.

Breathing deeply, Carter took her shaking hand, letting his thumb trace the cursive
C
she’d had inked on the inside of her wrist as a birthday gift for him. It was the sexiest fucking thing he’d ever seen.

He picked up the Alice statue. “I want you to look at this and remember how far we’ve come. Alice was there when we had our first non-date and I stole the best kiss of my life. She was there when we danced in the rain and I hummed Otis Redding in your ear. That was the same night I told you who I was, and you let me make love to you all night.”

He put the statue down. “I was so broken when you found me again. But you put me back together and made me realize that the mistakes I’ve made don’t define who I am. You believed in me when no one else would.” He kissed her palm. “I know I’m a pain in the ass. I’m far from perfect. We both are. Your cooking leaves a lot to be desired and you leave your dirty laundry on the bathroom floor every morning and it drives me insane!” He chuckled when she pushed him playfully.

“But I love living with you, Kat. I love waking up with you every morning and seeing you smile, and falling asleep with you in my arms, knowing that I’ve never felt safer. I love our lazy days. I love laughing with you and fighting with you, because I know it means we get to make up. I love riding Kala with you. I want to put up a Christmas tree with you every year for the rest of my life.”

His throat became thick and he squeezed her hands. “I’ve loved you every day since I was eleven years old. Will you marry me?”

Kat laughed through her tears. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Carter laughed with her and pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply.

Her lips and body merged with his so perfectly, so beautifully, as they always had. Pulling back, Carter took the ring from the box and slipped it on her finger. Staring at it, he knew it was always meant to be there. Staring at it, he knew he was finally home.

He cupped her face and kissed her again.

He owed the woman in his arms everything. He’d become the man he wanted to be for her, the man he liked being. And as their clothes started coming off when the passion between them burst into flames, Carter vowed to himself that he would continue to repay her every single day of his life.

It was his most deeply desired obligation.

His precious debt.

His beloved pound of flesh.

Max O’Hare is ready to move on with his life after successfully completing rehab and learning to explore his deepest fears and dreams through art. It’s through art that Max meets Grace Brooks, the seemingly perfect girl. But why won’t she tell anyone anything about her past? Will they slowly allow each other in or are they both too afraid to get hurt again?

Keep reading for a sneak peek of

by Sophie Jackson

Coming soon from

Max’s sponsor arrived at the coffee shop with his customary smile and a yellow T-shirt decorated with—

“What the fuck is that?” Max asked with a puzzled shake of his head as they ordered their sandwiches.

Tate glanced down at himself and cocked an eyebrow. “It’s a Minion dressed as Wolverine,” he answered, clearly disgusted with Max’s lack of comic book expertise. “What the hell else would it be?”

Max snorted. “I apologize. I’m obviously having an off day with DC—”

“Marvel! Jesus.”

“Whatever.”

Tate shook his head. “I don’t even know why I keep coming back to see you.”

“Because you love me,” Max retorted as they took their lunches to their usual table.

Tate shrugged. “Someone has to, I guess.” They sat in companionable silence, watching the world go by, while they ate. “So how have things been?”

Max nodded. “Okay. Got my six-month medallion.” He took a mammoth bite of his chicken on rye.

When he was in rehab, he’d never imagined he’d get to this point—but the gold medal in his pocket proved he had. When he’d been awarded it at his last group session, it’d been the first time he’d truly felt a shiver of pride.

Tate grinned. “My man. Nice.” They fist-bumped. “Any more ‘off ’ days?”

Max shook his head. He and Tate stayed in frequent contact, exchanging texts at least once a day, with phone calls just as regular. Tate had been a true support for him, and the fact that he traveled three hours every week to see Max was testament to how seriously he took his role as Max’s sponsor.

As always, they shot the shit about therapy, caught up on friends—with Riley at the helm, Max’s body shop was booming; Carter was stressed with Kat’s wedding planning—and drank coffee.

Suddenly, his coffee mug frozen in mid-air, Tate’s attention moved to something on the street. Max followed his line of sight and smirked.

It was Grace.

Dressed in running gear, she was walking toward the coffee shop, looking at her watch, no doubt checking her run time. Her hair was pulled back, her ponytail bouncing, her running pants breathtakingly tight. Max’s cock gave a nod of appreciation. He was annoyed he’d had to cancel his run with her this morning to meet Tate.

“Good Lord,” Tate muttered as he watched her enter the shop and head to the counter.

“Like what you see?” Max asked. A curious and unfamiliar warmth crept across his skin.

“Um, yeah … Shit, do they all look like her around here?”

Max looked over at Grace, catching her eye. She beamed and waved. He smiled and dipped his chin back at her. “No,” he answered. “She’s one of a kind.”

As Max expected, she soon sauntered across the shop toward them with latte and muffin in hand. “Hey,” she greeted him, her green eyes dancing.

“Hey yourself. Good run?”

“Yeah. Weirdly boring without you.” Her gaze moved to Tate. “Hello, you must be Tate, Max’s sponsor. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Tate held out his hand. “All good things, I hope.” He smiled widely.

Max rolled his eyes.

Grace laughed. “Oh, yeah, all good things.”

Tate’s head turned toward Max, who sighed. “This is Grace,” Max introduced. “She’s my running partner.”

“Running partner, huh?” The expression on Tate’s face said he thought Max was full of shit. Well, he could think whatever the hell he liked.

“Yes,” Grace said. “You interrupted an important run today.” Her playful smile was lovely, and Max watched Tate fall headfirst to its captivating power.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Tate played along. “Maybe I can buy you a coffee to make it up to you.”

Max cleared his throat and crossed his arms, not knowing where to look while his sponsor hit on his … friend.

“Thank you, but I have some already,” Grace answered, lifting her cup.

Max wasn’t about to step in, unless she looked uncomfortable. Besides, Tate was harmless. An asshole, but harmless all the same.

“Hey, Max,” she said, “could you meet me at the cottage by the stream later? I’m working, but I can be there at three thirty.” She seemed nervous.

“Should I be worried?”

“Oh, no. I just need your help with something.”

“I’ll be there.”

She smiled again. “Great. It was nice meeting you, Tate.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Grace.” Tate’s eyes never left her until she disappeared down the street.

Max waited with bated breath.

“Okay,” Tate ordered, his index finger pressed into the table. “Fucking spill. Who is she, and why the hell haven’t you talked about her before? And don’t give me that running-partner bullshit. She’s hot for you, and if you aren’t hitting that, I’m revoking your man card right now.”

Max laughed despite himself. “She’s not hot for me. It’s not like that.”

Tate gaped; mouth and palms open, looking a lot like his brother Riley. “She’s
so
hot for you. How can you— Whatever. Why are you not all over her like a damned rash?”

Max ran a hand through his hair. “We’re friends.”

“With benefits?”

Max stared at his coffee mug. “Sort of.”

Tate sat back. “We need more coffee and one of those fucking great muffins—and then
you’
re gonna tell me
everything
.”

It was going to be a long-ass morning.

VISIT OUR WEBSITE:
www.headlineeternal.com

FIND US ON FACEBOOK:
facebook.com/eternalromance

FOLLOW US ON TWITTER:
@eternal_books

EMAIL US:
[email protected]