The Forever Girl (Wildstone, #6)(69)

Caitlin’s eyes narrowed. “What were you doing in my bathroom?”

“I’ve been borrowing your good face cream,” Heather admitted. “And Maze’s been borrowing your magic mascara.”

“Oh my God,” Maze said to Heather. “Seriously?” She sighed and turned back to Caitlin. “So we’re makeup thieves, get over it. Now spill about the pregnancy test.”

“You didn’t look at the results?”

“That would’ve been rude,” Maze said.

Cat laughed and shook her head. “So there are boundaries then. Good to know.” She drew a deep breath. “I’m not.” She tugged the pitcher out of Maze’s hands and poured them all very large glasses. “The end.”

“Why doesn’t it feel like the end?” Heather asked quietly.

“Because . . .” Caitlin’s eyes went misty. “Because I wanted to be pregnant.”

“So maybe you actually try next time,” Heather said.

Caitlin shook her head. “You guys heard Dillon, he doesn’t want to have my babies. Actually, I’m not sure he ever did.”

“Cat.” Maze gripped her hand tightly. “You know you have to talk to him about this, right? Like before you say ‘I do’—the day after tomorrow.”

“I know.” She lifted her glass. “But I don’t want to think about it anymore right now.”

Maze nodded, but she felt sick with worry and couldn’t zip it. “Because if you don’t talk about it with him, and it turns out you’re right, maybe you shouldn’t—”

“Maze, I know. Believe me, I know.”

“So—”

“Not right now.” Caitlin downed her drink, waited for everyone to do the same, then refilled their glasses and flagged Boomer down for a new pitcher. “Now drink and be merry, or I’ll find better drink mates.”

So they drank.

Two hours in, they’d consumed the cookies, played pool, and were on their third pitcher of daiquiris. The tiara was no longer sitting straight on Cat’s head. Maze didn’t know if she was drunk or on a sugar high.

“Truth or dare?” Caitlin said with rum-fueled enthusiasm to Maze.

Shit. The last time Maze had played this game, it’d been with Walker in Vegas. They’d been at the bar, which was where all her problems always started, when he’d dared her to kiss him. Damn him for being such a good kisser . . .

“Truth,” she said firmly. How bad could it be? But Caitlin was looking very pleased with herself, giving Maze pause. “Dare,” she corrected quickly.

“Too late. Are you ever going to let yourself fall in love?”

Maze closed her eyes.

“You gotta answer,” Cat said. “It’s the rules. And I’m the bride-to-be, you’re not allowed to disappoint the bride-to-be. So. Are you? Going to ever let yourself fall in love?”

Maze opened her eyes. “Been there, done that, and it didn’t end well for me.”

Both Caitlin and Heather stared at her in shock.

“You were in love? Past tense?” Cat asked. “Like . . . with Jace?”

Maze avoided Heather’s gaze, because of course Heather already knew what Cat didn’t—that she and Jace had never been a thing. “Nope. Not Jace.” Maze pointed to Heather. “Your turn.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Cat said, leaning forward. “No way. More info, stat.”

“Yes, more info, stat,” Heather parroted.

Maze gave her a long look, silently reminding her that in spite of the fact Heather hated secrets, she was keeping one of her own, that she and Jace were exploring a relationship with each other.

Heather flushed and bit her lip.

Cat’s gaze was on Maze, deep and thoughtful. “Does this have anything to do with you and Walker coming into the house in the middle of the night?”

Heather gasped and turned to Maze. “Really? And yay! ’Bout time!” She lifted a hand to high-five Maze.

Maze just looked at her, and Heather shrugged and high-fived herself.

“Come on, Maze,” Cat said. “Talk.”

“What is this, high school?”

Cat smiled. “Did you know that when you and Walker are in the same room, the tension’s so high you could provide enough natural electricity for the whole town? Hell, the whole state.”

“That’s nothing new,” Maze muttered.

“Maybe not, but the sexual tension is.”

Maze grimaced. That others had seen it was more than a little bit embarrassing. And once again, memories of the previous night, alone with him up on the cliffs, washed over her. His hand fisted in her hair as he’d moved over her; his rough voice in her ear, making promises he’d absolutely kept. How she’d sunk her teeth into his muscled shoulder trying and failing to keep from panting his name over and over like he’d wanted, making him groan and lose himself in her every bit as much as she’d lost herself in him.

Here was the thing about being with Walker: He was magic. He knew when to be gentle, when to be . . . not gentle, and she hadn’t been the only one who hadn’t been able to keep quiet either—only he hadn’t tried to hide from her, not one little bit. And hell if that wasn’t one of the sexiest things about him. She sighed. “Fine. You want a real truth from me? I don’t know shit about falling for someone, or if I’ll ever feel it like I should, but yes, Walker and I were together last night, and it wasn’t our first time. Years ago, we had a drunken night in Vegas. There. Two truths for the price of one.”