The Forever Girl (Wildstone, #6)(27)

“With a lot of people who are all really different from each other, so yes, I want to rehearse so that it goes off without a hitch. Did you hear about that wedding in San Francisco last weekend? The bride’s family and the groom’s family started a fight with each other—over cake. They ended up in a huge cake fight and the bride got frosting in her eye and needed to wear an eye patch on her honeymoon.”

Maze blew out a breath. “Look me in my cake-free eyes and tell me you really want to do this.”

Cat met her gaze. “I want to do this.”

Maze nodded. “Okay. Then let’s do this.” She paused. “Um, you might want to shower before the day’s activities because you’ve got some frosting in your hair.”

“Shit.”

“Hey, it could be worse, it could be in your eye.”

“Smart-ass.”

When Caitlin was gone, Maze sat alone at the table with the binder. It was impressive. There were lists for the lists. The daily list began with: Clear the washer and dryer or you’ll get mold and then get sick and die.

Not on Maze’s watch. So she went to the small laundry room off the kitchen. She was pulling a load out of the dryer when she felt a change in the force field. The only warning she had of who it was came from the deep thrum that began low in her belly. Only one person had ever affected her that way.

Walker came in with a basket of clothes, which he dumped in the washer, lights and darks together in one load. Looking her over, he carefully took her in. “You okay?”

She realized she was so tense that her shoulders were hunched up to her ears, so she purposefully relaxed them. “I’m good, but your clothes are probably screwed.”

He gave a small smile but didn’t stop looking at her, and she realized he was asking because of last night, when he’d found her in the closet, when she’d cried all over him.

“I’m fine,” she said with a sigh. “And . . . um, thanks. For being there.” She paused, not sure she really wanted an answer but unable to stop herself from asking, “How did you know I was . . . having a rough night?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I was heading for the kitchen when I thought I heard you.”

Damn. How she hated that.

“I knew Jace had fallen asleep in the den watching TV and that you were alone. How often does it happen, Maze?”

“Almost never,” she said honestly, but when he didn’t seem to buy that, still eyeing her with an intense protectiveness she recognized, she shook her head. “It only happens when I get really tired or stressed.”

“You know you’ve got nothing to fear from him anymore, right?”

She nodded, because she’d found out years ago that the guy had been killed in a bar fight. “Yeah, and I get that the closet thing doesn’t make any sense, but it’s kinda like mac and cheese. Comfort, you know?” She stopped and cocked her head. “Wait. How do you know that I’ve got nothing to fear from him anymore?”

His face gave nothing away as he turned back to his laundry, but she stopped him.

“No,” she said. “Don’t give me that blank expression. Spill it. How and why would you know that?”

In typical Walker fashion, he stated the facts like he was talking about the weather. “I tracked him down and found out he’s dead. Which saved me from killing him.”

She gaped at him because she knew he wasn’t kidding. “When?”

“The group home I went to after the fire was run by a woman whose husband was a cop. He had search programs on his computer.”

Shockingly touched, and also far too close to tears for comfort, she drew a shaky breath and redirected by pointing her chin at the laundry basket.

“That’s . . . surprisingly domestic of you,” she said.

“I’m good at throwing things into the washer.”

“Are you, though?”

He smiled. “Smart-ass.”

“That’s the second time today I’ve been called that already.”

“Cuz it’s true,” he said. “As for what I’m doing, Caitlin was struggling yesterday, so I told her I’d help. She didn’t have a full load so I added some of my stuff, along with some clothes I found on the bathroom floor.”

She reached into the washer and pulled out a pair of her own pale pink lace undies. “These are mine.”

“Are you sure? Cuz I’ve got a pair just like them.”

She rolled her eyes but also laughed, and in return, he smiled. A real smile. Note to self: Never look directly into Walker’s eyes, especially pre-caffeination. “Your undies shouldn’t be touching my undies.”

He laughed, the sound rubbing at a whole bunch of her good spots, damn him. “Why not?”

She searched for a valid reason that wasn’t Because it makes me remember how good we were in bed. “It’s just not done,” she said lamely.

Walker moved in, his mouth brushing her ear when he spoke in a husky whisper. “You do realize that your undies have touched my undies before. In fact—”

“Oh my God.” She set a few fingers against his lips. “Don’t say it.”

His eyes were heated and flat-out laughing at the same time. “Don’t say what?”

“You know what! That our . . . parts have touched too.”