10
CARTER’S PALACE OF LOVE
Olivia
THIS IS THE KIND OF house you see in magazines, the kind you spend your life dreaming of. Where the idea that something like this could one day be yours isn’t so far-fetched.
Nestled back in a gated community in North Vancouver, with a driveway I swear spans the length of my high school, the sprawling two-story house sits at the base of Mount Fromme. Large gray stone, slate-blue siding, and wooden pillars work together to make this home the masterpiece it is, and the backdrop behind it—the sea of dark green forest capped with snow, the peaks of the mountaintop, the trillions of stars you can’t see anywhere else—makes it utterly breathtaking.
“You gonna stand out here all night or come in?”
I drag my gaze o the backdrop and try to ignore the butteries that erupt in my belly when I nd Carter on the front porch, leaning against a pillar, hands tucked in his pockets, an easy smile on his face.
I’ve never been so attracted to him as I am in this moment. Dark, tted denim, a deep green and blue plaid button-up, untucked and with the sleeves rolled. Chestnut waves lay in a tousled mess atop his head, and he’s so eortlessly handsome it nearly hurts.
“Cara and Em left you out here to fend for yourself,” he says.
“So you thought you’d save me?”
His grin grows as I step toward him. “Nah. I’m the one you need saving
from.”
“Ah, right. Big, bad Carter.”
He exes his bicep, kisses it, and pumps his brows. “I am big.”
I climb the two steps to the porch and enjoy the way his eyes gleam when I step into him. “But you’re not all that bad, are you?”
“So bad,” he murmurs.
“Really?” I run the tip of my nger along the collar of his shirt. “Because there’s a picture of you with Olaf painted on your cheek that says dierently.”
His gaze darkens. “Don’t remind me you had my number painted on you last week.”
My ngers curl around his shirt, bringing him closer as I whisper, “The rst thing I did when I got home was scrub that bad boy right o.”
A feral sound rumbles in his throat as his eyes narrow, and with a snicker, I back away, peering around the covered porch.
“This house is incredible.”
“I know.” He zeroes in on my dress beneath my open coat. “So is that dress.”
He holds his sleeve up to my stomach. “We match.”
“Looks like we do.” I won’t tell him I slipped on this dress tonight because the color reminded me of his eyes.
“Come on.” He slings an arm around my shoulder and leads me toward the door. “Before you freeze and we have to strip down and rely on body heat and cuddling to warm you back up.”
“Carter Beckett doesn’t cuddle,” I reply, looking with wonder around the expansive front foyer. It’s as grand inside as it is outside, and everything feels… right. Homey and warm, like the only place you’d be content to be during a snowstorm, snuggled up on the couch in your pj’s with your hot chocolate, a classic Disney movie, and the people who matter most.
“I’d cuddle with you.”
“You’re pulling out all the stops, aren’t you?”
Instead of responding, he starts peeling my coat o, and I shift the container in my left hand to my right when he requires that arm.
“What’s this?” he asks, taking it from me once he hangs my coat.
“It’s nothing special. They’re bacon-wrapped water chestnuts with a sweet and spicy glaze. They’re—” I stop midsentence, watching as he tosses one in his mouth, humming.
“So good,” he mumbles, tongue running along his lower lip to catch the lingering sauce.
“You are a never-ending pit, aren’t you?”
The lopsided smile he gives me brews a re in my belly, and his next words stoke it. “I can go all night, baby.”
I clear my throat. “They’re for the host. Cara said all the food’s been catered in, but I thought I’d bring something anyway as a thank-you for having me.”
“Oh. Well, thank you. And you’re welcome.” He takes my hand and makes to drag me down the hallway.
“What?” My eyes move around the foyer once more, this time focusing on the faces in the photos. Though he’s many years younger in most, I’d recognize that face anywhere. “This is your house?”
“Uh-huh. As dazzling as I am, don’t ya think?”
“It’s… it’s beautiful. Why didn’t you tell me it was your house when you invited me?”
“Didn’t I?” He shrugs and takes my hand again, tugging. “Oh well. Let’s—”
“Wait a second.”
Carter’s body stills and he looks at the ground. The expression he wears is cautious and nervous as he slowly swivels my way, like he knows exactly where this is going.
“I thought you had a condo downtown. You said you could carry me there
on your back in eight minutes.”
“Right. I did, uh, say that.”
“Or am I mistaken?”
“No, you’re not, uh…” He scrubs the back of his neck. “I do have a condo downtown. I just don’t live there. I live here.”
My nose scrunches. “Then why would you have a condo?”
I can tell he doesn’t want to answer. Or maybe he just doesn’t know what to say. The man looks like a deer caught in headlights.
I lift my brows, waiting, barely noticing Garrett as he comes trotting down the staircase. “Carter? Why do you have a condo if you don’t live there?”
“Condo?” Garrett repeats, wrapping me in a hug as he moves by us. “You mean Carter’s Palace of—” He slams his jaw shut, eyes wide as his gaze ricochets
between us.
“Carter’s Palace of what?” I urge.
“Don’t,” Carter warns him lowly. “Don’t you dare.”
A beat of silence stretches between us, the tension palpable.
“Love,” Garrett whispers. “Carter’s Palace of Love.” He cowers from Carter’s menacing stare before dashing down the hallway, calling his apology over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t lie well under pressure! Don’t hurt me!”
With my arms pinned across my chest, I hold Carter’s stare. His is a mixture of afraid and amused. He shouldn’t be amused. He should be 100 percent terried, because right now I’m thinking of kicking his ass.
“Out of curiosity, what line were you going to feed me if Garrett hadn’t accidentally outed you for having a Palace of Love, where you take all your special friends?”
“They’re not my special friends. They’re not even my friends. You’re my
friend. And you’re special.”
Oh for the love of— “Carter.”
He cringes. “Maybe I would’ve told you I sold it?”
“Oh, so you would’ve lied?”
“What? Ugh.” He sighs, slumping. “No, I wouldn’t have lied.”
“So you’d have told me the truth, that you have a condo downtown for easy access to fuck after your games?”
“No, I—ahhh.” He claps both hands to his face, dragging them down in slow motion. “This feels like a trap. You wouldn’t have liked either of those answers.”
He lets out a deep breath with a low whoosh. “I would’ve told you that you’re the rst woman I’ve ever had to my house who hasn’t been a family member or a friend’s girlfriend. That I’m happy to have you here, not there, and to spend some time getting to know you better tonight.”
I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to deect from the negative, to turn his fuckpad into a positive because I’m the special one who’s made it here instead.
He seems good at that, seeing the positives, even if right now it’s to talk himself out of a corner. But the truth is I’ve never been very good at being an optimist.
I’m not a pessimist, either, or at least I don’t think so. I’m just a realist.
He tucks my container under his arm and takes my hands in his. “Can you forget about all the preconceived bullshit for tonight? One night, Ollie. I know I’ve got a reputation, and I know I’m not an angel. Let’s pretend none of that
exists and enjoy our date.”
“It’s not a date.”
“And we’ll pretend you’re not jealous.”
Sigh. And he was doing so well.
I ick his collarbone before strutting by him. “Get over yourself, Beckett.”
His hearty chuckle trails behind me, and of the sentence he mutters to himself, I only catch the words ass and dress.
I swivel on my heels. “What did you say?”
The grin he ashes has me believing he’s the devil in chiseled marble. There’s not an innocent bone in that muscled body of his.
“I said you look stunning tonight in that dress.” That’s not remotely close to what he said.
Long ngers lacing through mine, he tugs me along behind him.
“C’mon, pip-squeak. Let’s go have a drink.”
I can’t think of a more awful, reckless, deliriously alluring idea.
So naturally, I follow him.
I COULD DIE A HAPPY woman in this kitchen.
I don’t know if it’s the sprawling midnight blue cabinets, the brick backsplash, the double-wall oven, the shiny marble countertops, or the stone replace in the living room that’s visible from here. All I know is if I took my last breath standing right here, that would be okay.
“You look like you’re in heaven.”
A zzy red drink appears in front of me, cranberries and limes bobbing around, and I waste no time bringing the glass to my lips as Carter drops his elbows onto the island.
“I’m pretty sure I have this kitchen saved on my dream home Pinterest
board.”
“What’s a Pinterest?”
“What’s a—” Sighing, I shake my head. “Never mind.”
Carter’s grin goes from self-assured to a little wobbly as he pulls open a drawer. His hand swallows a small brown package, and he clears his throat.
“Hey, um, this is maybe kinda weird, but I got you som—”
“Olivia!”
Carter slams the drawer closed, his cheeks aming as Adam yanks me into his side. I keep my eyes on Carter, dying to know what’s he’s hiding in there.
“Carter said you were coming, but none of us believed it.”
Garrett raises his hand. “I said you’d be here. Bet everyone a hundred bucks.”
He pulls a wad of hundreds out of his jeans, fanning them at his face. “Thanks for showing up.”
Emmett pulls one bill free and stus it in my hand. “Ollie gets one of these since she made it happen.”
Cara steals a bill. “And I get one because I brought her.” She pats Adam’s shoulder. “Did you know you’re Liv’s favorite Viper?”
His face lights, and he runs a palm down his proud chest. “Really? Me?”
“Yep.” I ignore the look of betrayal on Carter’s face. “You’re like a brick wall out there.” He’s also incredibly endearing. Every time he’s complimented in a postgame interview, he gets all shy and looks away from the camera.
“Ollie played hockey for fteen years,” Carter tells him.
“Really? I want you to tell me you were a goalie, but you’re fucking tiny.”
Adam folds his lips into his mouth. “I’m sorry. Tiny’s not a bad thing, it’s just —”
“Not good for a goalie, I get it. I tried for a year when I was eight.” My nose wrinkles. “It was the worst. I’m not built for the guilt that comes with losing.
I’m too sensitive and couldn’t separate myself from the loss. I’d cry the entire car ride home because I’d blame myself.”
“I get it. Some losses are harder than others but it’s always a bit easier when I’ve got these guys to lift me up after.”
“Is your girlfriend here? I haven’t met her.”
“Oh, uh…” Adam palms his nape. “No, she wasn’t feeling up to it tonight.
Maybe next time. She’d love you.”
You’ll hate her, Cara mouths over his shoulder, and the look everyone else wears, including Carter, tells me the same.
“I’ll look forward to meeting her.” I nudge Garrett. “What about you?
Anyone special?”
“Nuh-uh.” He gives me a lazy grin and a wink. “Why, you lookin’ for a midnight kiss?”
Carter scos. “You can’t kiss my date at midnight!”
“For God’s sake, Carter, this isn’t a date.”
“You can’t kiss my not-a-real-date-but-actually-is-a-real-date at midnight!”
Garrett leans into me, mouth at my ear. “Full disclosure, I’ve got ve hundred bucks riding on you kissing him at midnight.”
Before I can respond, an eruption of cheer comes from the dining room, and Garrett claps his hands together.
“C’mon, Liv. Let’s play beer pong.” He tows me toward the crowded room where a gorgeous spalted maple table is covered in red cups and ping-pong balls.
“You can be my partner. We’ll make Carter and Adam weep.”
Carter trails in behind us, hands tucked in his pockets, and I follow his
glower to Garrett’s hand on my hip.
Oh my. Mr. Beckett is jealous.
His gaze meets mine, and he saunters over with a erce look of determination while Garrett and Adam ll six cups each with beer, arranging them in the shape of a triangle on opposite ends of the table.
His ery stare burns every place on my body it touches. “Care to make this interesting?”
My ngers run up the line of his buttons. “What did you have in mind?”
His gaze bounces to my mouth. “I win, and I get your midnight kiss.”
Behind me, Cara snickers. It’s been a few years, mind you, but in university, Cara and I were the queens of the beer pong table. We went entirely undefeated
our sophomore and junior year.
“And if I win?”
“You won’t. My motivation is too high.”
I admire his tenacity; I’ll give him that much. Trailing my nger down his torso, I stop just above the waistband of his jeans. My single drink has gone straight to my head, because I’m seriously considering the possibility of me sticking my hand down there later. “Humor me.”
“What would you like?”
I’d love a foot rub and to be politely railed into the new year if I’m being honest, but the request that comes out of my mouth is so much tamer. “You have to take me to see Frozen II.” I’m dying to see it and I gure he’d rather be caught dead than at a public movie theater with a girl, watching a Disney princess movie.
The group around us groans, as if they know something I don’t.
Carter just grins, pulling those dimples right in. “Deal.” He brushes my curls o my face, tucking them behind my ear and gripping my neck. “Joke’s on you, Ol.” He touches a tender kiss to my jaw, making me tremble. “I love Disney movies and I get to take you on a date. Now I win, regardless of the outcome.”
Carter is good, as expected. So are Adam and Garrett.
But I’m better.
When Garrett and I win the rst game, Carter quickly declares it’s a best-of- three scenario. And when we win the second game, too, it’s suddenly the best three out of ve.
When I sink the rst ball during the third round, Garrett lifts me into the air while the crowd hollers.
“I’ve never seen Carter lose at anything so many times in a row before,”
Garrett whispers, his hand on my back.
Across the table, Carter watches us, jaw tight, eyes dark. I can’t tell if it’s losing that’s brought on this response, or the way Garrett’s been so blatantly irting with me the entire time.
Ping-pong balls soar through the air as we trade points back and forth, until there are only two cups left on each side. With tensions high and Carter up next, Emmett calls out to me.
“Eh, Ollie, hold up! You dropped something!” His brows quirk, and I follow his pointing nger to a load of nothing before he hits me with a sneaky wink.
Message received.
Look, I’m a woman. I may be small, but what I lack in height I make up for in hips and curves. I’ve also been told I have a killer ass, something Cara likes to remind me of with a gentle pat-pat whenever she strolls by me.
I tend to be a little self-conscious about the softness of my edges, the roundness of my ass, all things that have come via a healthy obsession with spending endless hours scrolling through desserts on Pinterest, or watching inspirational baking videos on Instagram, and then trying to recreate them. But the truth is most men nd all those dips and curves irresistible.
And Carter Beckett? He’s denitely most men.
Right now, he’s poised over the table, gaze itting between the cup he’s aiming at and me. When I smile, he smiles back, soft and sweet. I almost feel bad
for what I’m about to do.
Almost.
“Oops.” Turning my back on him, I bend over, right down to the ground, lingering there for a moment, just long enough to hear what I want to hear.
Ping… ping… ping.
“Fuck!”
Adam chucks a ping-pong ball o the table. “Are you fucking kidding me, Beckett? You got distracted by an ass!”
He drags both hands down his face before gesturing at me. “It’s one bangin’ ass!”
Carter’s wayward ball rolls to my feet and I shoot up, holding it above my head. “Got it!”
Adam gently bangs his forehead o the wall, groaning, and Carter’s wearing the sexiest scowl I’ve ever seen. The alcohol in me dares me to kiss it right o.
Emmett claps my hand, howling with laughter, and Garrett grabs my face, kissing my forehead with a loud smack. He sinks his own shot with ease, then rubs my shoulders while he talks strategy in my ear.
“Just take it slow. Take a deep breath. Don’t rush your shot. We’ve got it in the bag. Any cup, Liv, any cup.”
Cara claps a hand to my ass. “Let’s go, baby!”
I set my eyes on the cup I want and get into position. I’m condent, and it’s warranted.
“Oh, Carter? I went a hundred and eight games undefeated in university.”
Eyes locked on his, I send the ball soaring, grinning when I hear that plop as it sinks into his drink, the crowd around us exploding with cheers.
Adam sinks to the oor, Carter grips the edge of the table, dropping his head, and Garrett spins me in his arms.
Drunk me realizes whatever I’m feeling for Carter is much more than an attraction to all his sexy bits, and I don’t really know what to do with that. Logic tells me to run, to shut it down before it becomes more, because this man will break me. Illogic says, Eh, fuck it, let’s give it a shot.
I’m not sure which one will win, but the bold part of me swings two arms around his neck and says, “How does it feel to lose, big boy?”
Something daunting and feral ashes in his eyes, and when his ngers wrap tenderly around the base of my throat, pulling me closer, I know his next words are true.
“Trust me. The last thing I’ve done is lost.”
