Love and Always (A Pound of Flesh #1.5) (5 page)

“Carter!”

Riley Moore, former Arthur Kill inmate and old friend of Max’s and Carter’s, wandered over, wiping his oiled hands on an even dirtier cloth. His bearded face and curly dark blond hair also bore the telltale signs of work on an engine.

Carter grinned. “Mr. Moore.” They clasped hands and bumped shoulders. “How’re things going?”

“Good, man, good. Busy after Yuletide, you know?”

Carter knew. It was always rammed in the week after Christmas. Not that he was worried Riley couldn’t cope. Far from it. Years previous, Riley had run his own body shops, and for a few hedonistic summers, Carter had worked with him. Not that they did much working . . .

Before his last stint inside, Riley had engine shops across the city with two more in Philly and DC. He may have been a bigmouthed, womanizing, tattooed muscle head, but the fucker could run a good business. Carter was one of only a handful of people who knew that Riley had a business degree. He knew his shit and Carter couldn’t have been happier that he’d agreed to oversee O’Hare’s while Max was away. The books would be in good, experienced hands.

“The new staff okay?” Carter asked, glancing at the two new guys he, Paul, and Riley had hired. They were young but eager, with excellent references.

“Not bad. Green, but we’ll soon change that.” Riley winked.

Carter gestured toward the office where a young blonde slip of a thing whom Kat had appointed—because Riley couldn’t make an objective decision when it came to any woman—worked diligently on her computer. “And the new girl? Steph, is it?”

Riley snorted and pulled a smoke from his pocket. “Oh, yeah. She’s . . . great. Very perky.”

Knowing that tone too well, Carter groaned in exasperation. “Riley, man, I asked you
not
to fuck the new girl. Dude, seriously, we can’t lose staff because you can’t keep it in your damned pants. Just . . . don’t, okay?”

Riley grinned around his smoke, his hazel eyes bright.

“You already did, didn’t you?” Carter sighed, although silently marveling at the guy’s skills. “She’s been here, what, two weeks? How do you do it?”

Riley raised his eyebrows. “Well—”

Carter lifted a palm sharply. “Don’t.”

Riley chuckled and glanced at the new girl who, even across the fifty feet of the shop floor, blushed crimson under his stare. “Come on, Carter,” he teased, “did I not teach you a thing? Business one-o-one, make your staff feel welcome.”

Carter barked an incredulous laugh. “You’re an asshole.”

Riley smacked a large hand against Carter’s shoulder, making him stumble forward. “Hey, I’ve gotta get my kicks from somewhere, right?” He took a long drag from his smoke, his gaze settling on the floor. “We can’t all be loved up like you now, can we?”

Carter’s smirk was more than a little smug, but he still noticed the way Riley’s features pinched as he spoke. For all his showboating and charm with women, Carter knew Riley played his cards close to his chest in regard to love or genuine affection. As long as they’d known each other, Riley had never mentioned feeling anything other than lust for the women he got involved with. Carter was aware that he’d had girlfriends in the past, but God knows whether they were serious or long term. Man could have children littering the globe and no one would be any the wiser.

“How is your Miss L, anyway?” Standard wide-eyed expression back in place, Riley looked about as though Carter was hiding Kat someplace. “She not with you?”

“No. I managed to escape. She’s shopping with Beth, picking up my tux and getting a dress for New Year’s, apparently. I just give over my credit card and stand clear.”

Both men shuddered at the thought of something as hellish as dress shopping.

Riley leaned toward the shop door and tossed his smoke out onto the street. “Amen, brother.”

Carter checked over his shoulder to see who was within eavesdropping range. “And FYI, um, she won’t be Miss L for much longer.” He grinned, the words tumbling out in an excited rush. “She’ll be Mrs. C to you.”

“No way! You mean she said yes to your punk ass? You’re gettin’ hitched?”

Riley’s gigantic arms encased him in a smothering hug, despite Carter’s colorful objections, lifting his feet off the floor. Riley whooped and hollered and generally made a spectacle out of the two of them, gathering the whole shop’s attention.

“Put me down you fucking maniac!” Despite his words, Carter’s smile was wide when his feet once again found purchase.

“Ah, young love,” Riley cooed, dramatically fluttering his lashes. His face suddenly became serious as though he’d been hit with the answers to life itself. “You know what that shit means, dontcha?” He stood with his arms wide. “Bachelor party!” He clapped his hands. “Oh, man, that would be so sweet. I know an awesome place we could have it, it’s an old lap-dancing club, and I could hire some rather excitable and bendy girls who can—”

“Riley.” Carter interrupted with a finger to his face. “No.”

The speed with which Riley’s enthusiastic face dropped and his pout appeared was remarkable. Despite the humor still prevalent in his large, innocent eyes, he looked like a chastised puppy. “You’re no fun anymore,” he griped, pushing Carter’s chest.

Carter laughed. “Shut up.”

His cell phone ringing was just the excuse Carter needed to stop Riley’s bachelor party plans in their tracks. Noting the blocked number, he answered with a twist in his gut as he pressed the screen to accept the call. It could only be one person.

“Max?”

“Hey, man.”

Carter smiled and, mouthing Max’s name to Riley, made his way out of the shop to the quieter street. “Merry Christmas! How ya doin’?”

There was a brief pause. “Oh, yeah . . . Merry Christmas. I’m okay. Same shit different day, you know?”

Carter didn’t know, but he was relieved to hear Max sound a little more upbeat than he had been almost a week ago. “Slow and steady wins the race, my friend,” he offered gently.

“Yeah, so my therapist keeps telling me.” His tone was flagrantly bitter.

“You’ll get there, bud. I know it,” Carter murmured. “Hey, did my parcel arrive?” The Christmas parcel Carter had sent to Max was Kat’s idea. She thought it’d be a nice way of cheering Max up while keeping a very distracted Carter busy.

Max chuckled. “Yeah, I tell ya, man, if I didn’t love you before, I do now.”

Carter snorted. “And all I needed to do was ply you with Dr Pepper, licorice whips, and chocolate M&M’s? You’re getting easy in your old age.”

“It definitely helped me make some new friends. I swear the licorice is like fucking contraband.” His laugh was louder this time and untied the knot of anxiety in Carter’s stomach. “It meant a lot, man.”

“No problem. It was from Kat and me. It was her idea, actually.”

Max cleared his throat. “Oh. Well, tell her I said thanks, will ya?”

“Sure.”

Carter rubbed his face. Jesus, the small talk was the worst. It was even harder for two friends who had, despite a twenty-year friendship, barely spoken over the phone before Max even went to rehab. It was very new for both of them and it was awkward as shit. Over the past couple of weeks, Carter had learned that safe topics of conversation were the body shop, their friends, and life as a CEO. The no-go areas Carter was still learning but, so far, therapy and all that that entailed, and Max’s medication were definitely out.

“So, look,” Carter said, kicking at the snowy sidewalk beneath his boots. “I have some news.”

Max’s voice was immediately more animated. “Thank fuck. I need some news here, man. I’m bored shitless. Hit me.”

Carter took a deep breath and glanced toward the gray New York sky. “I didn’t want to tell you on the phone, which isn’t ideal, but it’ll have to do because I don’t know when I’ll be able to come and visit you and I wanted to be—”

“Shit, son, you’re rambling!” Max exclaimed, worried. “What the hell’s up?”

Carter laughed nervously. “Nothing. Nothing, it’s just . . . Kat and I . . . I asked her to marry me. We got engaged.”

The silence at the other end of the line was thunderous. Carter slumped against the nearest wall and dropped his chin to his chest. If he knew his best friend at all, he knew that he had to give him time to digest the news. Carter was all too knowledgeable of Max’s pain in regard to his fucked-up relationship with Lizzie, but Carter had no idea how news of his own impending nuptials was going to go down.

The silence continued, punctuated only by the occasional fizz of white noise on Carter’s cell phone. “Max?”

“That’s . . . the last thing I thought you were going to say,” Max said eventually. His words were slow, careful and, without seeing his face, Carter couldn’t get a read on him. “It’s that serious, huh?”

Carter nodded toward the ground. “Yeah, man. It’s that serious. I saw the ring one day in Tiffany’s window and I just thought, Fuck it. Why the hell am I wasting my life not being married to this woman?”

Max sniffed. “Yeah,” he replied softly. “I, um, I remember the feeling.”

Carter closed his eyes at the pain in his friend’s voice. “Look, Max, I—”

“No,” Max interrupted, causing Carter’s heart to thump hard, “I’m . . . that’s great news, brother. Great news.”

Carter blinked. “It is?”

A resounding snort echoed down the phone. “Well, I hope so, dude,
you’re
marrying her!”

Carter laughed in relief, leaning his head back against the bare brick of the building and sighed. “No, it is. It’s awesome news, although, why the hell she wants to be with me for the rest of her life, is beyond me.”

“No doubt. She may need her head examined, for real, man.”

Both men laughed and Carter was momentarily crippled with the sudden need to hug his best friend. “I’m so glad you’re . . . thanks for being cool about it, Max.”

“Hey, Carter, I get it. I do.” There was a heavy pause. “I can’t resent you for wanting to be happy just because my life fucked up. And if anyone deserves this, it’s you.”

Carter cleared his throat a few times before he spoke again. “Thank you.” He wiped at his unexpectedly wet eyes and smiled. “Hey, you’d better hurry up and come home so you can be here for the celebrations, brother. Riley’s already planning the bachelor party.”

“Were lap dancers mentioned?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there.”

Carter growled again at the black silk bow tie that hung uncooperatively around his neck.

“Tell me again why the fuck we’re dressing up like this,” he yelled to Kat who’d been barricaded in the en suite bathroom for the past hour and a half. Carter could only assume that she was creating nuclear fusion, with the amount of potions and lotions and shit she disappeared in there with.

“Because dressing up for the Thomas Family New Year’s Eve Charity Ball is a tradition, and we missed it last year. That’s why,” came the sharp, I’m-sick-of-your-whining-so-shut-your-mouth reply through the door.

Heh.

“Well, it’s a stupid-ass tradition,” Carter grumbled to himself as he once more attempted to tie his bow tie, again without success. He didn’t know what all the fuss was about. He could still give a check to charity in fucking jeans and a T-shirt! “Dammit, Kat, why the hell didn’t you get me a clip-on one?”

“Because”—the bathroom door finally opened—“it wouldn’t have looked as good as a tied one.”

“But it won’t do as it’s told!” Carter whined, holding the urge to stamp his foot.

He looked from the mirror and over his shoulder to where Kat stood, ready to bitch and moan some more, but what he saw halted the words dead and just about stopped his heart. His wide, awestruck eyes devoured the black, strapless, floor-length gown Kat wore, dancing over her delicate collar bones and décolletage, across her bare shoulders to her long arms, one of which was decorated at the wrist with the stunning onyx bracelet he’d given to her for her birthday. Her engagement ring looked spectacular on her left hand.

“Give me the damned thing and I’ll tie it for you. It’s really easy. I learned how to do my dad’s when I was about six and . . . why are you looking at me like that?”

She stopped and touched her hair, which was pinned up. Her dress clung to her in sinful, breathtaking ways. Carter rubbed at his sternum, where a heated ball of possessive desire grew unashamedly, pumping lust and wonder through his veins.
Mine
, his blood sang.
All mine
.

“Carter?”

He brought a finger up to her glossed lips. “Shhh.” The sound was all he was capable of as he watched her flush under his heated gaze. Slowly, never taking his stare from her skin, he walked around her, seeing the gooseflesh appear across her neck and shoulders as he moved.

He stood before her and took a long, deep breath that he released gradually, gathering himself, calming the overwhelming urge to lift her to the bed and worship her body the way it was meant to be. “I’m without words.”

Kat shifted and smiled nervously. “Well, that’s a first.”

Carter stepped closer, catching the scent of her perfume and the underlying fragrance of peaches from her hair. “Is this what you bought with Beth?” She nodded. “You are . . . Peaches, no woman will ever look as perfect as you do right now. Ever.”