A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(136)

“You’ll let me know how it goes?”

“Of course.”

“Great.” Kat leaned her head back against the seat. “Thank you, Ben. Truly. You don’t know what this means to me.”

“Of course I know what this means to you, Kat. Why do you think I agreed to do it?”

Kat smiled. “You’re my favorite.”

“I know. You just remember that when your millionaire boyfriend wants to loan out one of his supercars.”

“He doesn’t have any supercars, Ben,” Kat replied with a laugh.

“Then he’s a damn fool. You take care, yeah?”

“I will. Love to Abby.”

Kat left Arthur Kill with a suitcase in the trunk and a flutter in her heart. After ending the call, she turned off her cell phone, ignoring the two voice mails from her mother. They hadn’t spoken in over a week and, although Kat missed her, the relief that came from not having to hear the relentless daily diatribe outweighed it all. Guilt had threatened, but she’d pushed it down, deep into the gulf that continued to widen between the two women.

[page]This weekend was about her and Carter. Everything else was irrelevant.

Excitement bloomed in her belly. He’d been incredibly coy about what he had planned and where they were staying, giving her brief directions and cryptic clues she’d spent the whole week trying to figure out.

Thankfully, the drive was easy enough. Kat wasn’t the best with directions, but she knew she was headed toward the coast, specifically the Hamptons, which confused her to say the very least. West Hampton Dunes was an extremely affluent area, filled with people who were more Labradors, pipes, and slippers rather than metal, tattoos, and leather. Kat smiled. She was sure Carter stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb around these parts.

The closer she got to the address on her GPS, the bigger the houses appeared. Not that she should have been surprised after Carter’s confession about his wealth. He could easily afford any house along the East Coast and still have change left over. Not that she gave a damn about any of that. He could have had five dollars left in the entire world and she’d still lov—

Her smile grew, undaunted by the direction her thoughts had taken. She turned up the volume on the car stereo and sang along.

The sky turned a stunning pink and orange above the rough gray sea, and the sand dunes rolled for miles. Even though it was cold, Kat wound down her window and, after putting on her shades, let the fresh ocean air blast into the car. It smelled wonderful. It smelled of freedom and fun. It smelled of her father. Christ, she missed the beach. It’d been too long.

Turning a long corner, Kat faced an endless stretch of sand upon which stood a beautiful two-story white house with a dark blue roof. The house was exquisite, made up of white paneling with a wraparound porch and balconies on the top levels. It reminded Kat of the large family homes she’d seen in the South as a child with Nana Boo.

Coming to a stop, Kat killed the engine and gradually opened the car door. The air swept around her, whipping her loose hair around her face and pounding her skin with sand. She gazed at the picture-perfect scene before her, wanting nothing more than to go running into the ocean.

*

There had been so many moments in his life where Carter had felt disappointment or frustration in some form or another that he had lost count. Depressingly, since the day of his birth, the two emotions had seemingly followed him everywhere he’d gone, running concurrently with everything he did, along with every choice he made.

From learning about his mother’s desire to “get rid” of him, and her subsequent intolerance of him as a child, to the day his own father sent him away to a strange boarding school at the tender age of nine—even though the small dark-haired boy had begged and pleaded for his daddy not to—Carter had learned to become immune to the sting of things going to shit.