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

by Sophie Jackson

  After a moment of tense silence, a laugh of incredulity burst from him. “Shit, woman, you’re killing me.”

  “I’m sorry, I was in a world of my own and I thought you’d be longer in there and—” Grace paused for a moment before creasing into infectious giggles. “Oh my God, your face.”

  Max couldn’t help but laugh with her and it felt so damned good. “Mine? What about yours?”

  He shook his head. He felt totally unbalanced around her, he lacked control, all sense eluded him, yet, instead of it causing any anxiety, he found himself embracing it. Her spontaneity and apparent amusement at his enduring desire for her were fresh and new, leaving a sensation of something that felt suspiciously like happiness creeping through the dark crevasses of his soul.

  She snorted and breathed deeply, trying to regain some sort of calm while wafting her hands by her face. “I’ve just done my mascara, dammit!”

  “Okay, well, I’ll go down to hang with the guys while you finish”—he motioned toward her—“you know, dressing.”

  Grace coughed a laugh. “Okay.”

  Running his hands through his hair in a fruitless attempt to delete the images invading his mind, Max found his uncle and Josh sitting by the bar in the sitting room. Both men whispered heatedly, clearly up to shit, but sat up straight, shutting up quickly when they saw Max approach. Bastards. Uncle Vince cocked a suspicious eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak.

  Max held up a hand. “Don’t think because you’re old I won’t beat you,” he said simply, to which both men boomed with laughter. Max took a seat next to them, smiling.

  “Well, at least a hammock is creative,” Uncle Vince muttered around the lip of his beer bottle. “Even your aunt and I haven’t tried that.”

  Both Josh and Max groaned in distaste before the latter dropped his head to his forearm. His uncle slapped his back. “Oh, come on, Maxie, lighten up! When was the last time I got to rib you about getting fresh with a girl, huh? Let me have my fun!” He turned his eyes back to Josh. “I remember when his father and I caught him with this girl at the back of his shop.”

  A disbelieving laugh exploded out of Max. “Really? We’re still on that?”

  “Absofreakinlutely we are, boy.” His uncle pressed a finger to the bar top. “Until I can’t speak no more, we’ll be on this!”

  Josh chuckled. “What happened?”

  Uncle Vince looked far too excited for Max’s taste. “Well, Max’s daddy and I were—”

  “Seriously?” Max complained through a smile.

  “—working on this hot as hell Corvette, when Connor noticed that Max had disappeared.” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t have bothered Connor usually, he let Max have a lot of freedom, but Max should have been helping out at the shop as part of his punishment for something else he’d done. Little shit was always in some sort of trouble.” His words were truth, but he smiled fondly at Max.

  Josh grinned. “Where was he?”

  “He being me?” Max asked, lifting a hand. “I am sitting here.”

  Without turning, Uncle Vince waved him off. “Had this little blonde thing pressed up against the hood of his daddy’s Mustang and was struggling to unfasten her damn bra!”

  “It was a front fastener!” Max argued with arms wide at his sides. “How the hell was I supposed to know?”

  Uncle Vince snorted. “Connor and I must have stood there for a good minute listening to him curse the godforsaken thing before the girl spotted us.” He and Josh laughed harder. “She upped and darted, flushing crimson and calling Max names even I’d never heard of.”

  “How old were you that you hadn’t been introduced to front fastener bras?” Josh asked through his chuckles.

  “Twenty-five,” his uncle joked before Max could reply with the actual answer of sixteen.

  Max found himself laughing at the memory while he poured himself a Dr Pepper. His father had been more concerned that there was an ass print on the hood of his prize Mustang than about his son trying to get laid with some girl. That same girl, Sarah Miller, had never even looked at him again after that. Not that Max had blamed her. In fact, if he remembered correctly, he was pretty sure Carter fucked her at a party not long afterward.

  “Oh, to be young again,” Uncle Vince mused. He nudged Max’s shoulder and winked.

  “Leave the boy alone, Vincent.”

  Max sighed in relief at the sound of Aunt Fern’s voice. “They’re bullying me again, Aunt Fern,” he grumbled. “Tell them.”

  “Bullying.” Uncle Vince mocked with a snort. He pointed at Max with his beer bottle. “Don’t use my hammock for your nefarious plans and I won’t!”

  “Nefarious?” Max laughed. “Aunt Fern, I think Uncle Vince has been watching late-night TV again.”

  His aunt pointed a stern finger at her husband and son-in-law. “You two be nice,” she scolded. “Leave Max alone.”

  “Yeah,” Max agreed with a sharp dip of his chin, placing one hand on his aunt’s shoulder in unity while using the other to lift his drink to his mouth. “Leave me alone.”

  Aunt Fern smiled wide. “He’s in love, it’s sweet.”

  The Dr Pepper Max was drinking projected from his mouth in a disbelieving spray across the bar, narrowly missing the laughing people sitting next to it.

  “What?” he spluttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Aunt Fern! Grace and I, we’re not— It’s not what you think, we’re . . .”

  Her hand patting his cheek stopped his ramblings. “So cute.”

  Josh’s laughter raised in volume. “Dude, this is awesome.”

  Max shot him a look that said that this was unequivocally not awesome.

  “What’s all the racket?” Ruby came bounding into the room, wineglass in hand, followed by Buck, his girlfriends, and Deputy AssCrack.

  “Your father and husband are assholes,” Max murmured, still wiping his face.

  Ruby sniggered. “That’s not news.”

  “What’s not news?”

  Max looked up when he heard Grace’s soft voice from the doorway and for one split second he forgot that he wanted to throttle Josh for gossiping and his uncle for telling embarrassing stories. She stood there, fidgeting yet lovely. Her hair was down, black and thick with a couple of short baby curls crafted perfectly to her temples. The red and white floral dress she wore skimmed her thighs and dipped between her boobs, hugging her figure in ways that were tastefully sexy. She approached him slowly, the glint in her eye suggesting that, just like him, their heavy petting session was still the only thing she could think about.

  A shiver of pride ran through him. Yeah, he thought to himself, he was the man who she was fooling around with. He was the man who she trusted to make her come and feel good. He was the man she wanted to touch her and teach her how to be intimate again.

  Shit, if he’d had feathers he’d have preened like a motherfucker.

  “You look great,” he said when she reached him.

  She brushed a hand down the dress and gave a modest shrug. “Thanks.” She turned to him, her face pinching. “Hey, I wanted to ask you something.” She glanced around and spoke when she seemed satisfied that no one but Max was listening. “Are you going to be okay going out tonight?”

  Max’s frown creased. “Sure.” He lifted his shoulders. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  She cleared her throat. “It’s just, I was thinking. I know you hang out at Whiskey’s a lot, but that’s different. I mean, will you be all right going to a club?” Her big green eyes were worried. “You know, there’ll be more . . . temptation. Are you okay with that? I’d be happy to stay here with you if not. We could watch a movie or something.”

  No one except Tate and Elliot had really asked Max about his addiction and what he could and couldn’t manage in terms of the lures around him. Max knew it wasn’t because his family and friends didn’t care; they simply trusted him enough and believed in him enough to leave him to his own devices. His vice had never been alcohol as much as cocaine,
but he knew how quickly one addiction could be filled with another. Plus he couldn’t drink while on his meds. His steps helped, of course, but Max understood how cautious people were, of asking too much or coddling him, which he hated. But, apparently, Grace being cautious was an altogether different thing and caused a tug in Max’s chest that was warm and comforting.

  He smiled gently. “Grace, I’ll be fine. The clubs around here aren’t like the ones I went to in New York. I doubt there’ll be too much to worry about. Besides, I’m the designated driver.”

  She nodded, looking down at the floor, appearing embarrassed. “Oh. Okay. I just thought I’d ask. I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  Max moved closer, subtly running the tip of his index finger along her forearm. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For caring enough to ask.”

  She lifted her face to his. “You’re welcome.”

  The club was absolutely nothing like the dives Max used to frequent in the city. This place played pop music and had disco balls hanging from the ceiling, for shit’s sake.

  Max side-eyed Josh in annoyance. “What the fuck?”

  Josh shrugged drunkenly in response just as Ruby squealed when some heinous boy-band music started blaring from the DJ stand. She grabbed Josh’s arm and dragged the poor bastard across the club so she could dance with him. Max glanced around, fighting down the urge to bolt.

  The walls were adorned with mirrors and pictures of musicians from every era from the sixties to the present day, including Britney Spears and the other blonde chick who wore chaps with her ass on show, next to a picture of a leather-clad Elvis. Poor dude was probably turning in his grave. It was hell on earth. Max knew that if Carter heard about his being in such a place, he’d have ended their friendship immediately. And Max wouldn’t have blamed him. Even Buck looked forlorn dressed in his Van Halen T-shirt and Vans. While the girls, including his aunt, jumped and flailed to the beat around Josh, Max placed himself at the bar next to his uncle and the deputy and watched.

  The place was bustling, filled with Independence Day revelers, some dressed in costumes ranging from Mickey Mouse to Darth Vader, making the atmosphere light. People smiled, hugged, and generally looked like they were having an awesome time, which helped Max stop thinking about the fact that he was nursing a Pepsi and not a shot of something stronger. Not that he’d thought about it all that much. In truth, all night his mind had been on one particular woman on the dance floor, looking spectacular as she lifted her arms and sang ABBA at the top of her lungs. He smiled. Max was certainly seeing another side to Grace. With each drink she consumed, she became chattier, more tactile, and a lot flirtier. She was definitely testing Max’s resolve, but he found himself enjoying her attentions.

  “She’s a pretty girl.”

  Max looked from the dancing to his uncle and back again. “Don’t start.”

  His uncle chuckled and moved closer. “Who’s starting?”

  Max snorted. “It’s not like that between us.” He saw his uncle in his periphery, nodding as he drank from his beer glass. “We’re friends.”

  “She doesn’t look at you like you’re just her friend, Max.”

  Max turned to look at the man at his side, his smile fading at the cautious tone in his uncle’s voice. He wasn’t exactly sure what Uncle Vince’s words made him feel, but there was definitely a pinch of something that felt suspiciously like panic at the base of his neck.

  “Look,” Uncle Vince continued, turning to face the bar instead of the dance floor, shoulder to shoulder with Max. “I don’t wanna know what’s going on between you two. It’s not my business. You look happy together, friends or more. I just want to make sure that she treats you right. That shit there is my business.”

  Max blinked. “Treats me right?” He barked a laugh. “Shouldn’t that be the other way around?”

  His uncle didn’t answer with anything other than a pointed look. “You’re fragile, Max. You hide it well, but I can see it because I’ve known you since your daddy put you in my arms when you were two days old.” Max shuffled uncomfortably while his uncle glanced back toward the dance floor. “She cares for you, but so did Lizzie.” Max swallowed hard, his throat tight. “All’s I’m saying is be careful, son. Don’t lose yourself in something you’re not ready for. Wouldn’t be fair on either of you.”

  Max nodded. “It’s all good,” he assured his uncle. “Honestly. We both know where we stand. I’ll be careful.”

  Uncle Vince placed a large hand on Max’s shoulder and squeezed. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

  A collection of excited squeals had the two men’s heads snapping back to the dance floor as the familiar opening bars of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” filled the club. Well, Max thought, as the girls started jumping around even more, at least this song was an improvement on the shit that had been played since they arrived. In fact, he had this particular song on vinyl. It had been his mom’s. His dad had told him once that, while she was pregnant with him, Max’s mom would listen to it at least once a day, singing and stroking her baby bump. He was sure that somewhere in his apartment back in New York, he had a photograph that his dad had given him of her doing it.

  The small smile that pulled at his lips at the memory grew wider when he saw Grace dancing, well, jumping toward him. She looked ridiculously endearing, all wide eyes and hair flying about. And the dress? Yeah, the dress was still fucking tremendous. Max had noticed the lingering stares it coaxed from the other guys in the bar but tried his best to ignore the shameless flash of possessiveness that streaked through him. His stink-eye was enough to keep those dipshits at bay.

  “Come and dance!” she shouted above the music when she reached him, just as Marvin Gaye sang about remembering the day. Before Max could answer, Grace grabbed his hand and started swinging it from side to side, miming the words and bopping like a damn rabbit from foot to foot.

  Unable to resist her happy face and happier dancing, Max lifted his arm so she could twirl beneath it. She beamed. “My love is alive way down in my heart!” she sang loudly while wiggling her ass.

  It took a moment for Max to realize that he was dancing, too, just a little, rocking from one foot to the other. Once again Grace’s infectious spirit had yanked him away from any worries that his uncle may have had, any temptations and melancholy memories. Throwing caution to the wind and losing himself in the chorus of his mother’s favorite song, he wrapped an arm around Grace’s waist, gripped her free hand in the other, and began dancing—silly dancing—with her. He tipped her backward, swayed her from side to side, and twirled her some more. Her loud laugh filled the room over the music as he did and, whether he realized it or not, slowly crept into the deep, cold recesses of Max’s heart.

  At a little after one in the morning, with pizzas, burgers, and fries bought and devoured in the car on the way back to the house, Max held on to a very tipsy Grace as she stumbled up the stairs to their bedroom. She giggled and hummed to herself as she leaned on his arm, while repeating how much of an amazing, fantastic, truly amazing night she’d had. Max couldn’t help but laugh at her. Truth was she was stinking cute when she was drunk.

  “And the fireworks?” she slurred. “Oh my gosh, they’re so pretty. So pretty. Did you see them?”

  “I saw them.”

  “They were pretty, right? And all boom and pffffttttttt!” She flailed her arms to show Max just how pretty the fireworks were and tilted sideways.

  Max held her tightly while he pushed open the door, glad that she barely weighed anything when she slumped her entire body against him. “Pretty like you,” she mumbled into his bicep as they moved into the room.

  Max snorted. “You’re not gonna puke, are you?” he asked as she staggered toward the bed and dropped onto it face-first like a starfish, hair surrounding her like a black halo. She held wobbly thumbs up in answer.

  Max checked out the way her dress gathered high on the backs of her thighs and rubbed a hand down his face. “I’m gonna wash u
p, okay?”

  The comforter muffled her answer. “Mkay.”

  In the bathroom, standing with his hands on the sink, Max thought back to what his uncle had said in the club. He shouldn’t have been surprised by his uncle’s concerns. Max himself had gone through the whole should he, shouldn’t he circle in his head about whether doing whatever the hell it was that he was doing with Grace was a sound idea.

  And he was still convinced it was.

  They were two—granted, fucked-up—consenting adults who found each other attractive. They were fuck buddies and nothing more. Yet both Tate and his uncle had pointed out that Grace may have wanted more, liked Max more than she should.

  Max stared at himself in the mirror. “Shit.”

  If he was truly honest with himself, Max liked Grace. He liked her a lot, but the scarred, battered, and bruised muscle that beat in his chest just wasn’t up to the task of loving anyone ever again.

  The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. She deserved more than that. It wasn’t that Max thought Grace loved him. No. Despite Tate’s and his uncle’s words, Max knew better. She may have looked at him with affection, but that was merely because she showed her feelings without any filter. She was like an open book and, ironically enough, that was one thing Max really liked about her. There was no bullshit. She said it how it was.

  And then there was the fact that he wanted her. Shit, of course he wanted her. He couldn’t wait to be inside her and see if she’d go off like the firecracker he hoped for.

  He’d been clear on his terms when they agreed to help each other, clear on what he was open and closed to, and Grace had accepted that. And not just accepted it, she’d been of the same damn opinion. He just had to trust that she could keep behind the lines they’d marked in the ground between themselves when they shook hands. Max really wasn’t sure what he’d do if she didn’t. Maybe they needed to talk about it.

  Resolute, he pushed from the sink and opened the door back into the bedroom, losing all ability to think or fucking speak when he saw Grace lying on the bed, faceup, head on the pillows, in nothing but that damned red underwear. And fuck him sideways if it wasn’t the hottest thing. He noticed her dress in a puddle by his feet along with her shoes.