Carter stood from his hunched position. “Nothin’. I’m good.”
“Don’t lie,” Paul smirked. “You hate this club, don’t you? It’s all right to admit it to me. Max loves it, but I don’t see the appeal.”
Two statuesque blondes sauntered past, causing the two men to stare at their minimal clothing and flirtatious smiles.
Carter chuckled. He clinked his bottle against Paul’s. “Where is Max?” he asked, narrowing his eyes toward the dance floor in the hopes of spotting his friend.
“Outside having a smoke,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “With his new friend Laura. He’s shitfaced already, high as a damned kite, yammering on about some deal he’s doing tonight.”
Carter rolled his eyes in frustration. From the snippets he’d heard from the other boys at the shop, since Lizzie had left, Max had lost himself in many women. As much as Max played that he was okay and lived for bedding the females he did, Carter knew he was simply trying to fuck the pain away. With the amount of coke Max was doing, it was clear that the one-night stands weren’t working. Asshole was on a slippery slope.
“He needs to get out of that shit,” Carter muttered.
“No doubt,” Paul agreed. “But he’s not going to listen to either of us, you know that. He’s in too deep. When that bitch left, she took the best parts of him with her.”
Carter knew that Max had hit the blow hard as soon as she’d left. It had been so difficult for Carter stuck in Kill, unable to be there for his friend. “Was it really bad?”
Paul sighed. “Yeah. Tried to act as if he wasn’t dying on the inside after losing his woman so soon after losing the baby. Pretended he was all right while he shoved that shit up his nose.” Paul sipped from his beer. “I’m just waiting for something to happen, for shit to hit the fan and—”
“I won’t let anything happen,” Carter snapped.
Paul smiled knowingly. “I know, man.” He clapped Carter’s shoulder. “I know. But you and I can’t always be there for him. He’s a grown man and a law unto himself. I worry.”
Carter knew what Paul meant. Despite their friendship of nearly twenty years, Max would do what he wanted, no matter the consequences. His stubbornness was what the two men argued about most. His best friend was broken, that shit was clear as day, but Carter had no idea how to fix him, or even if he could.
Carter and Paul stood watching the dance floor writhe and bounce. “Sidebar: it’s about time we found you a woman, Carter.” Paul nodded toward a group of women grinding and dipping to the beat.
“Come on, man.” Carter sighed. “I don’t need a woman.”
“Why?”
“Because women are hard work and fucking trouble. I have enough of that with Max.”
Besides, he didn’t want just any woman. He wanted one very specific woman.
Laughing in agreement, Paul set down another two drinks on the bar. Carter grabbed eagerly at the Jack and Coke and took half of that shit down in one. Yep. That was what he needed. He needed to stop thinking about his Peaches and nut up. He needed to stop obsessing, worrying, fantasizing—
Carter paused with the glass at his lips and blinked twice. Jesus. Was he hallucinating now? He almost broke his neck trying to see—over and around the writhing rhythmic bodies—the auburn-haired woman dancing about thirty feet away from him.
Holy. Mother. Of. God.
It was Peaches.
And fuck him running if she wasn’t wearing the sexiest dress he’d ever seen. It was black and silk and dipped so low at the back he could almost see the dimples above her ass. Shit. And a bare back meant only one thing.
No bra.
His cock, immediately hard, started biting through the buttons on his fly to get at her, while his heart thumped like a damn hammer. Her body moved like water: graceful and flowing effortlessly. Her hair was up in a twist that was sexy and elegant and the heels she wore would have looked amazing … on Carter’s shoulders.
He swallowed and smiled as she dipped and mimed the words to the song. Her hands moved against her hips, causing jealousy to burst through Carter’s body. It should have been his hands, his fingers gripping her tightly. He managed to drag his eyes from her to see she was ostensibly dancing with a small blonde girl who was wrapped around some dude with a mohawk. She was cute, but Peaches was sex. No, scratch that. More like hot, raw, up-against-the-wall fucking, and Carter immediately wanted all over that shit.
And apparently so did the guy standing five feet to Peaches’ left.
A growl built somewhere deep and dark within Carter’s chest and his hands balled into fists when the asswipe walked toward her, fiddling with his hair as he did.