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 that 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 off the backdrop and try to ignore the butterflies that erupt in my belly when I find Carter on the front porch, leaning against a pillar, his hands tucked in his pockets, and an easy smile on his face as he watches me.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been so attracted to him as I am in this moment. Dark, fitted denim, and deep green and blue plaid button-up, untucked and with the sleeves rolled. His warm chestnut waves lay in a tousled mess atop his head, and he’s so effortlessly handsome it nearly hurts.
He tips his head in the direction of the front door. “Cara and Em left you out here to fend for yourself.”
“So you thought you’d save me?”
His grin grows as I take a few steps toward him, and he straightens off the pillar. “Nah. I’m the one you need saving from.”
“Ah, right. Big, bad Carter.”
He lifts an arm, flexing his bicep, and right after he kisses it, he 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 finger along the collar of his shirt. “Because there’s a picture of you with Olaf painted on your cheek that says differently.”
His gaze darkens. “Don’t remind me you had my number painted on you last week.”
My fingers curl around his shirt, bringing him closer as I whisper, “The first thing I did when I got home was scrub that bad boy right off.”
A feral sound rumbles deep in his throat as his eyes narrow, and with a snicker, I back away, peering around the covered porch.
“This house is insane.”
“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.”
I prop a fist on my hip. “You’re pulling out all the stops, aren’t you?”
Carter drops his face as he chuckles, one hand on the back of his head. Instead of responding, he starts peeling my coat from my body, 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 fire in my belly, and his next words stoke it. “I can go all night, baby.”
I clear the lump of desire in 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, and this time I focus on the faces in the photos. Though he’s many years younger in most of them, 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…” His arm lifts, palm scrubbing 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, and my gaze flickers to Garrett as he comes trotting down the staircase. “Carter? Why do you have a condo if you don’t live there?”
“Condo?” Garrett repeats, quickly wrapping me in a hug and clapping Carter on the back as he moves by us. “You mean Carter’s Palace of—” He slams his jaw shut, bright 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 barely 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 terrified, 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, rubbing them up, then dragging them down in slow motion.
“This feels like a trap. You wouldn’t have liked either of those answers.
” His chest inflates with his deep breath, and he lets it out with a low whoosh .
“I would’ve told you that you’re the first 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 deflect 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 think I’m just a realist. I see both sides, or I normally try to.
He tucks my container under his arm and takes my hands in his, stepping into me. “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,” I remind him.
“And we’ll pretend that you’re not jealous.”
Sigh . And he was doing so well.
I flick 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 flashes 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 fingers 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, stupid, 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 fireplace 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 fizzy red drink appears in front of me, cranberries and limes bobbing around, and I waste no time bringing the glass to my lips, humming as I sip the sweet nectar.
“Thank you,” I murmur to Carter as he drops to his elbows beside me at 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.”
Before I have time to contemplate the way his grin goes from self-assured to a little wobbly, Carter 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 !”