The Forever Girl (Wildstone, #6)(47)

“You know how you think I’m perfect?” Caitlin asked again softly.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I think you’re perfect, Maze. Just as you are.”

Maze’s eyes got misty, but she then quickly rolled them. “And I think you’re wearing your rose-colored glasses again.”

“Nope,” Caitlin said. “I’m allergic to roses, remember? Just like you’re allergic to compliments.”

Maze laughed and strode off to check on her minions. She’d set up the mock reception in the grass. Talking and laughing among themselves, they had read their secret missions and, to Caitlin’s relief, they seemed to be taking the game seriously. Except for Dillon. He was sitting quietly, looking at his card with resigned annoyance.

It’d been her idea to do the game. She’d seen it on Pinterest. At the real reception, everyone would be given a secret mission, written specifically for them and stuck under their chair—things like hug a friend or relative you haven’t seen in a long time, each task designed to encourage mingling. The first five people to drop their completed mission into a basket at the head table would win a prize.

For today, she’d created fun, easy missions for Maze to hand out. There’d been a brief debate on this issue because Maze had wanted to come up with the missions herself, but Cat had thought that . . . dangerous. Maze had sighed but ultimately agreed—she couldn’t be trusted.

Heather’s mission was to get someone to swear. Walker’s was to make someone laugh out loud. Dillon needed to get Caitlin to swoon (okay, so that one was self-serving, sue her). Jace’s mission was to get someone to rumba with him. And Maze . . . all she had to do was smile at someone unprompted.

Maze, as acting DJ, called Caitlin and Dillon up for their first dance.

Dillon came for Caitlin with his charming smile, the one that always disarmed her. He tugged her to him, his hands going straight to her ass.

“Hey,” she said. “This dance is supposed to be classy.”

“But this is just practice.”

“Yes. For the real thing.”

Dillon sighed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s something,” she insisted.

“I thought this wedding would be fun, is all.”

She stared at him. “Are you kidding me? I wanted a small family-only wedding. Having a big three-ring-circus wedding for basically your mother because you’re an only child and all she’s ever wanted was a huge wedding for you—not nearly as much. But I’m trying to make the most of it.”

He sighed again. “It’s not all my mom’s fault. You haven’t really ever tried with her.”

Caitlin bit back her automatic defensive response and counted to five, like Walker had taught her. And damn if she didn’t realize in those five seconds that Dillon might be a little bit accurate. Or a lot. “Fine,” she said. “You’re right. I could try harder with your mom.”

He blinked in surprise. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Feeling a surge of affection for him, she forced a smile. “Besides, we’re going to Bali for a week, so who knows, maybe we’ll get started on something from your life list.”

“Like . . . planning out our retirement?” he asked.

“I was thinking one of the other things.”

He accidentally danced on her toes.

“Ouch!”

“I’m sorry!”

Maze quickly came to cut in and Caitlin happily let her. From the corner of her eye she caught sight of Heather and Jace dancing the rumba, looking far more like a bride and groom than she and Dillon had looked. She turned to watch Dillon and Maze dancing very stiffly, silent. Awkward with each other.

But that’s not what bothered her. Maze might be hard on the people in her life, but she generally liked everyone.

And yet she didn’t like Dillon.

Walker didn’t like him either. At first she’d attributed that to the brotherly feelings Walker had for her, and as the brother of her heart, he didn’t feel anyone was good enough for her. But she’d come to realize he specifically didn’t think Dillon was good enough for her.

So to realize that straight shooter Maze felt the same way threw her off. If Maze didn’t like Dillon, what was Caitlin missing? Sure, he could be abrupt and standoffish, and was often too busy to let himself be overly friendly, but he loved her. He told her so all the time.

But he doesn’t show you . . .

That quiet little voice from deep inside her chest had her going still. Okay, that wasn’t quite true. He took care of her. He always made her coffee and brought it to her in bed, just the way she liked it. And since that was an iced dulce de leche, it wasn’t easy. He also never complained about her Amazon Prime addiction, even though at the moment she wasn’t earning nearly the same amount of money he was. But maybe that was mostly because he enjoyed the fruits of her shopping, especially when it was lingerie.

She drew a deep breath. What else? Well . . . they were sexually compatible, but dear God, it had to be more than that.

But what if it wasn’t? What if she’d been wrong about him being her person for life simply because he was good in bed? And now was a fine time to be wrong about something, with the I do’s only four days away.

Suddenly both Heather and Jace were racing each other to the basket, missions clearly accomplished. They arrived at the same time, bumped into each other, and knocked each other down. They were laughing as Jace helped Heather up, and he gestured for her to drop her paper into the basket first, graciously offering her the winning spot. Heather grinned up at him, looking young, carefree, and happier than she ever had.