The Forever Girl (Wildstone, #6)(66)

As she’d hoped, Cat stopped sobbing to laugh. Then she sniffed and lifted her head. By this time Heather was sitting on her other side.

“There’s no dead body,” Cat said. “But if there were, there’d be two bodies.”

“Dillon and his mom?” Maze guessed.

Caitlin sighed and swiped at her tears, streaking dirt over her cheek. Dirt. On Caitlin’s face. Maze had never seen such an incident before, ever. Cat was always perfect.

“These coming with us?” Maze asked about the very odd, very dead bouquet.

Cat nodded. Maze hoisted her up and directed her to the car. Heather slipped into the back, with Caitlin shotgun. Maze got behind the wheel and looked at her. “Before we go, can I go into the florist shop and beat the shit out of anyone for you?”

Caitlin bit her lip like she was tempted, but she shook her head.

Maze nodded and drove off—in the opposite direction of the lake house.

“Where are we going?” Cat asked.

“First you have to answer a question,” Maze said. “You going to go through with this wedding?”

Cat hesitated and then nodded.

Maze reached for her hand. “I’m going to ask you one more time,” she said softly. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not a quitter.”

Maze looked into Caitlin’s eyes, saw the determination, and swore internally, but nodded. “Okay then.”

“Where are we going?”

“I know you said you didn’t want a bachelorette party, but I don’t think it was you who decided that.”

Caitlin sighed. “Dillon and his mom think it’s a trashy tradition.”

“They think we’re all trash anyway,” Maze said. “So do you really want to go back to the lake house, or do you want to go into Wildstone and blow off some steam?”

“Steam, please, with a side of fast food and bad decisions.”

Heather whooped and got on the phone. Maze knew that she was calling Boomer, the owner of the Whiskey River Bar and Grill, to let him know they were coming in hot.

“You know what else they think is trashy?” Cat asked. “Tossing the bouquet.” She rolled down her window and tossed her weed bouquet out into the wind.

And not five seconds later came the whoop whoop of a siren.

“Oh my God,” Heather gasped, craning around in horror. “We’re going to get arrested!”

“We’re not getting arrested,” Maze said, eyeballing the cop tailing her with lights going in the rearview mirror. Damn. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Maybe we can make something up and get arrested, and I’ll miss my own wedding,” Caitlin said with actual hopefulness in her voice.

Maze looked at her. “Say that one more time and I’ll make it happen, I promise you.”

“I’m just kidding!”

The cop gave another blast of his siren. Maze gritted her teeth and pulled over.

The cop walked up to the car and knocked on her window, giving her a wiggle of his finger, indicating he expected her to roll the window down.

“Badge first,” she said through the glass.

“Maze,” Cat whispered. “Just roll down the window!”

“Hell, no. I’ve seen the scary movies. You don’t just roll your window down unless you want to be murdered by a serial killer.”

“Oh my God,” Heather moaned in the back, covering her eyes. “I can’t go to jail, who’ll take care of Sammie? And plus there’s scratchy toilet paper in jail, and I’m too short for the orange coveralls they make you wear!”

The cop knocked again, less patiently. “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step out of the car. Now.”

Maze rolled down the window and looked up at him. He was around her age, but the tense lines of his face said he had zero sense of humor. Fine. At the moment, she had zero sense of humor as well. “What’s the problem?”

The cop leaned down to eye the occupants of the car. Cat smiled at him. Heather squeaked and ducked down.

“She doesn’t have anything to hide,” Maze said. “She just doesn’t like cops who pull us over for no reason at all.”

“You were littering.”

“It was just some dandelions and weeds that we pulled from the sidewalk. Biodegradable, nothing to worry about.”

“First of all,” he said, “you can’t just throw things out the window, biodegradable or not. And second, did you pick those wildflowers from someone’s yard? Because that’s trespassing and stealing on top of littering.”

“No one stole anything,” Maze said. “They were growing on the sidewalk, which means we prettied up city property. You should pay us.”

He ignored the snark. “License and registration, please.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me—”

Caitlin put her hand on Maze’s arm. “I’ve got this,” she whispered, and pushed Maze back to lean over and look up at the cop. “Hi,” she said with a smile. “Do you know what’s happening here, Officer”—she eyed his name patch—“Ramirez?”

The cop pushed his cap up with his pen. “No, but I’m guessing you’re about to tell me.”