A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(73)

After an age of silence, he heard her sigh. “Maybe we saw each other. It’s a small world, after all.” She looked straight at him. “Sometimes I feel like we’ve known each other longer than we have. Weird, right?”

He sat up again quickly, pulling out a cigarette. “Yeah,” he managed. “Really weird.”

Peaches followed his position and pulled the bag and her knees closer. “So, I have a question for you,” she said, rummaging in her bag.

Carter blew out his smoke, staring despondently at the ground between his bent knees.

“Which one do you want?”

He frowned when he saw her holding two books in each hand. He coughed a laugh. “I don’t have a f*cking clue. Why?”

Peaches gave him a pointed look. “We have to study a text, and I wanted your input. Choose one.”

“I haven’t read any of them,” he confessed. “I know the basics of this one, but other than that I’m at a loss.”

“Well, I love this story,” she said, pointing to the book to Carter’s right, the one that he knew the basics of. “I haven’t read it for a very long time, but it always stayed with me.”

He picked it up and read the blurb, his cigarette dangling from his lips. “A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway.”

“It’s a really wonderful story,” Peaches added. “But I have to warn you, apart from the descriptions of war, it’s essentially a tragic love story.”

Carter flicked through the pages. “Yeah, I know that,” he grumbled. “I’m sure I’ll live.”

She pulled out a pad and pen and made some notes. “Do you want to take it home and read it? I can assign you maybe two chapters that we’ll discuss next session?” She huffed. “What’s that face for? We have to do this, Carter. I’m not asking you because I’m being a bitch.”

“I know that.” He tapped the book against his knee. “I just thought I was past being given homework.”

[page]She smiled. “We’ll talk about the chapters next session and then we’ll read some more together.”


“Fine,” he muttered with a wave of his hand. “Whatever.”

“You say that a lot,” she retorted with a smirk. “Maybe we need to work on your vocabulary as well.”

Carter stared. “Are you f*cking around with me?” he asked, narrowing his eyes playfully.

She giggled and he poked a finger into her ribs. She squeaked loudly, surprising them both.

“Peaches,” Carter whispered devilishly. “Are you ticklish?” He glanced down her body, silently calculating how many places he could touch to make her squeak some more.

She adjusted her top, flustered, and picked up her resources to put back into her bag. “Not at all.”

“Oh,” he retorted dryly. “Well, that’s good, because I would hate to do this”—he poked her again, causing her to shriek—“and make you squeal like a girl.”

“I am a girl,” she snapped, pushing her stuff into her bag.

Carter laughed and handed her the remaining papers. “You know what I mean.” He poked again.

“Quit it!” Peaches said in a high-pitched voice, slapping his hand away. “You’re so childish!”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Carter replied. He stood up and brushed off the grass attached to his ass.

With his helmet in his hand and his jacket over his arm, Carter set off at a slow walk along the edge of the boating pond. It was late afternoon and the park was a bustle of people, running, walking, and playing. Peaches caught Carter looking down at her. She blushed and smiled. He pushed his hand into his pocket as the urge to do something shook his body once more. He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Jack and cursed himself. He was a damned fool if he thought he was going to be able to maintain the friendly, flirty relationship he’d built up with her.