An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2)(70)

Her words floated on a slow breath. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“I did.”

“Maybe I can do it for you again sometime.”

He smirked. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“How about when we get back home?”

The way the word “home” struck Grace’s chest was altogether too wonderful. “I’m sure I could arrange something.”

He smiled wolfishly. “Outstanding. Now, please excuse me. I have to take another very cold shower.”

She watched him walk away, grumbling to himself about hypothermia, his back muscled, the tattoo exquisite and wet with sweat, making her throat even drier. The bathroom door shut and she heard the water turn on. She fell backward onto the bed and closed her eyes wondering what it would be like to join him in there. The anxiety that rose at the thought was minuscule in comparison to how it had been, but she remained where she was. She knew that she was ready to do more things with Max, not least of all because the electric tension between them was gathering enough voltage to power a small city.

Nevertheless, Grace also knew that her initial friendly intentions toward him were very slowly morphing into something else entirely. Something larger, scarier, something she’d promised herself, promised him that she wouldn’t allow. It sat silent yet growing in a small cavity in her chest, next to the hope of Max one day maybe feeling the same way.

She placed her hands on her face and breathed, knowing deep down that that was never going to happen. Shit, she was in trouble.

“Dude, I can’t do this anymore. Can I come and stay with you? Please?”

Max snorted down the phone in reply, lying back on his bed at the boardinghouse while flicking through the channels on the wall-mounted TV. Carter had been whining for the last ten minutes about Kat and their damned wedding. Apparently, Kat’s incessant planning and organizing was slowly driving Carter beyond distraction.

“I love her,” Carter added. “Truly. I do, but I can’t cope with any more talk of being measured for a suit—which you still need to have done, by the way, don’t think you can escape this just because your ass isn’t here—flowers, and favors. Favors, Max! I didn’t even know what a f*cking wedding favor is! Do you? I’ll tell you: it’s a gift you give to the guests. A gift! I mean, why the f*ck am I giving gifts to people who attend my wedding? Where’s the f*cking sense in that? It’s like, yay, you came, here’s a twenty-dollar gift for your troubles.” There was a thump as though he’d dropped down onto something and he sighed loudly. “I want it to be perfect and I want her to be happy, but I didn’t know that women could be . . . I mean, she’s just—”

“A f*cking nightmare?”

“Yes!” Carter exploded. “Shit!”

Max swiped at the wet paint on his sweatpants. “Should have stayed single, man.”

“Right? What the hell was I thinking?” He quieted. “Thing is, when she gets excited about it all . . . man, her face—it’s just . . . makes it all worth it, ya know?”

“I’m sure it’ll be great.”

“Yeah.” Carter cleared his throat. “Anyway, enough about that, what’s new with you? You have a good July Fourth?”

“Yeah, the cabin was awesome.”

“I bet it was. It’s been too long since we’ve made a trip up there. Everyone good? Your uncle okay?”

“He’s really great. Still telling tales about me.”

“Lemme guess, the pesky front-fastener bra?”

“Asshole.”

Carter’s laughter grew louder.

Max grinned. “I had a good time.”

“Yeah, you sound chill.”

Max exhaled. He wasn’t too sure he agreed with his friend on that front. The trip to the lake had been great, of course, it always was, but his stress levels weren’t as low as they probably should have been after four days of doing pretty much nothing.

“Uh-oh,” Carter murmured. “That doesn’t sound good.” There was a beat of silence between the two men, the phone line buzzing with dead air. “You, um, you wanna talk about it?”

Max made a grunting, choking-type noise in response and threw the TV remote to his side, paying no attention to the people on the screen.

“You’ve spoken to Tate?” Carter prodded. “Or Elliot? Max, if you need something—”

“Carter, I’m fine. Honestly,” Max interrupted, his voice softened by his friend’s concern. “Actually, it’s nothing to do with any of that.”

“Huh. Okay. So what’s up?”

Max frowned trying to find a simple answer to a complicated question, but the only one he could come up with on the spot was Grace. Max wasn’t really sure if he wanted to talk to Carter about Grace because, frankly, he didn’t really know what there was to say and, besides, he didn’t want Carter to get the wrong impression.

Max’s interactions with Grace over Fourth of July had been great, but, admittedly, had also left his head in a bit of a spin. And despite their returning from the cabin three days ago and falling back into their normal working and running routine, they had yet to address the huge f*cking elephant in the room every time they were alone together: they still hadn’t f*cked.