The Forever Girl (Wildstone, #6)(42)

“That was all you, babe. You said you had big plans for the chocolate.”

She took a deep breath and her breasts brushed against his chest. He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to her shoulder, almost weak in the knees at just being this close to her.

“I’d never open a minibar,” she said. “Everything in it costs a million dollars. And I talk a big game when I’m drunk.”

“Actually, you came through on every promise you made that night. Well, except one.”

She pushed at him until he backed up and then strode angrily around the car and got in.





Chapter 11


Maze’s to-do list

—Never ever have a big circus of a wedding.

Maze’s emotions were still far too close to the surface when she and Walker and a commando Sammie got back to the house. It felt like a week had gone by, but it was only eight thirty. In the morning.

Getting up early was not all it was cracked up to be. Neither was tackling Cat’s to-do list, which was no joke. Maze had gone through the binder several times now, and though it made her eyes cross, she was on it. There was only one thing in her favor: Cat’s parents weren’t coming in until Friday. A stay of execution—but even just the thought made her feel guilty. They’d buried a child, and now their firstborn was getting married and they were facing the fact that not only would Michael miss it, he’d never experience his own wedding.

Maze drew a deep breath and pushed that aside. She didn’t bury it; she couldn’t. Truthfully, Michael was never far from her mind. But she locked it up in a box for later. Her plan for today was simple. She was going to wake everyone and hand out tasks. She put bacon in the oven and brewed coffee. Feeling domestic, she texted everyone to get their asses downstairs. Well, everyone but the bride-to-be. Maze wanted Caitlin to take it easy today. She also wanted to prove herself, because for so long Caitlin had taken care of her chicks.

It was Maze’s turn.

Thirty minutes later, she’d fed everyone bacon and toast, ignoring their exaggerated shock at her kitchen skills, and then bustled them all outside.

In the field of wild grass on one of the two picnic benches between the house and the lake, she got everyone staining the newly purchased reclaimed-wood picture frames in various sizes that Caitlin wanted scattered on the reception tables.

Walker was the exception. He’d gotten a call and stood off to the side, his back to everyone.

Dillon was actually helping too, and the pugs slept under everyone’s feet, napping like they owned the joint. “You always do this,” he said to them. “You say you want to do stuff, but you don’t mean it.” He picked them up, one under each arm, and carried them inside.

“I can’t,” Walker was saying to whomever he was talking to. “I told you, something came up this week. Don’t worry, I promise when I get back we’ll have some us time.” He paused, clearly listening, and then laughed.

Laughed.

Maze hadn’t heard that sound in a damn long time. And as if he sensed her watching, he turned his head and locked gazes with her. She started to back away but bumped right into an oak tree, so then she had to stand there like she’d meant to lean on it.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said into the phone, still looking at Maze as he slid it into his pocket.

“You’ve got to shut down your live screen,” she said, “or you’ll end up butt dialing her, and that’ll make you look pathetic and get you dumped.”

And here was the thing about Walker. When he was amused, something interesting happened to his face. His eyes twinkled. Not just with merriment but with sheer mischief. On any given day, he practically leaked bad boy, but when he was in a good mood, it multiplied.

Exponentially.

Which is what happened now as he came toward her. She actually got dizzy from looking at him. Most people understood personal space boundaries, but Walker did not. At least not with her. He came at her until they were toe-to-toe.

“So you do have a girlfriend,” she said.

He was so close he had to tilt his head to look into her face. And of course he didn’t answer the question. Instead he had one of his own. “You sign those papers yet?”

“You tell her that you’re still married?” she countered, chin up.

Reaching out, he set a big hand on the tree beside her head. “Worried about me?”

“Worried about her,” she managed, her body doing traitorous things. Like wanting to brush up against him just to see if their bodies still combusted when they touched, wondering if he still gave that heart-stopping rough male groan whenever she made a sexual move on him, telling herself she needed to know if a single brush of his lips would still set her afire . . .

He smiled down at her with that mouth she already knew could do diabolically delicious things to her. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

She sputtered because she wasn’t sure which was worse, him saying she was cute—which she most definitely was not—or him thinking she was actually jealous, which was beyond stupid. “I’m not either of those things.”

“Liar.” He tugged on a strand of her hair. “As for me, I’ve already told you, I’m not the one breaking our vows every night.”

At that, and the reminder of her deception with Jace, she looked away. But Walker cupped her jaw and brought her face back to his. The smile was gone now, replaced by an expression of intensity, and she was viscerally reminded what it felt like to be in his crosshairs.