The Forever Girl (Wildstone, #6)(12)

“Chicken?” he asked, voice low. Taunting.

She turned back, eyes narrowed. “Never.”

That got her the genuine Walker smile, which made her blow out a sigh.

“Look,” she said, “we’ve been doing such a great job of avoiding each other, why stop now?”

“I’m not avoiding you,” he said.

“Fine. I’m avoiding you.” She craned her neck. The kitchen was freshly renovated and homey and warm, but no high-strung, mastermind blonde named Caitlin anywhere. “Where is she?”

“In the wine cellar.”

“There’s a wine cellar?”

He shrugged. “It’s that, or she got smart and is running for the hills.”

He’d already had her full attention, but at this, she put her own emotions aside as protective feelings welled up inside of her for Caitlin. “Why? Do you think she’s making a mistake marrying Dillon?”

He didn’t answer this. He wouldn’t. Walker believed in letting people make their own mistakes without commentary or judgment. He’d certainly been witness to plenty of hers.

“You don’t like him?” she pressed.

Again, nothing, but there was a grim set to his mouth now.

“You don’t,” she whispered, and leaned against the counter, worried. “Do we need to step in? Kill him and hide the body? What?”

“You’ve been gone for three years,” he said in a mild tone, but the censure was in the words themselves. “What does it even matter to you?”

Here was the thing about guilt: she already carried so much of it, there was nothing he could say to make her feel worse than she already did. “We fought the last time I was with all of you,” she said. “I upset everyone. I thought it was best to give you all the gift of time away from me. You are welcome.”

He shook his head. “At least be honest. You found it easier to walk away than to stick. You always have. You only connect and stay connected if you’re chased. And that’s some serious bullshit right there, Maze.”

God, the way he said her name. It brought up more of those memories she’d buried deep for her own sanity. “I’m not the one of us who disconnected,” she said.

“And there you go rewriting history to suit yourself again.”

She frowned at the fighting words because oh, hell no. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Stepping close, he braced his hands on the counter on either side of her hips, caging her in as he lowered his head to look her in the eyes. “You know damn well what happened in Vegas. And it sure as hell wasn’t me doing the disconnecting.”

At the unwanted memories involving rum, Walker, and a quickie wedding simply because she’d wanted so desperately to belong to someone, her breath hitched, and suddenly she was afraid she’d lose it in front of him. At least their Elvis impersonator officiant had never filed the papers, so there was that. She sucked in a big breath. “I don’t remember much about that night.”

This made him frown as he searched her gaze for honesty. Since she couldn’t give it, she turned away and said, “Okay, how about this . . . we do each other a favor and leave the past in the past where it belongs. Let’s just get through this weekend for Caitlin, okay?”

Pulling her back around, he stared at her for a long beat before finally shaking his head, disgusted, possibly at the both of them. “Fine.”

Annoyed by his tone, the one that said maybe she was an unfathomable pain in his ass, she poked a finger into his pec, hard. “Fine.”

Catching her finger, he tugged until she stumbled against him. And in that brief second when she had no balance, not physically or mentally, he caught her and held her steady.

Just like he used to do.

She froze, and so did he, and their eyes locked on to each other. She wanted to shove him. She also wanted to yank his head close and put her mouth on his. Confused, she closed her eyes briefly, then opened them and spoke quietly but firmly. “Look, in a few days, this’ll be over and we can forget that we had to see each other again. Until then, we have a truce. We work together for Caitlin’s sake. Nothing more. No talking . . .” Remembering the feel of his hands on her, she added, “And no touching. After the wedding, you go your way and I’ll go mine. Deal?”

Something flashed deep in his eyes as they stood staring at each other. A beat went by. Two. And then, still standing too close, he finally broke the silence. “We’re going to have to talk eventually, Maze.”

She shook her head. “No.” She’d messed up once, big time, by letting her walls down and falling for him. But that part of her life was in the past and that’s where it would stay. “Not a chance.”

Just then, Caitlin came back into the room loaded down with six bottles of wine. “I brought everything,” she said as Maze surreptitiously shifted away from Walker. “Red, white, rosé . . .” She finally looked up, then paused.

Maze smiled, like nothing to see here . . .

“Did I miss something?” Caitlin asked.

“Nope.” Maze shook her head. “Not a thing.” She glanced over at Walker, who was looking at her like she’d yet to make a single decision he approved of.

Well, he could join the damn club then, because she often didn’t approve of her decisions either, but for better or worse, no play on words intended, they had a truce, and that was a relief.