The Forever Girl (Wildstone, #6)(78)

To laugh. When he was done he said, “I put a glass of water and aspirin on your nightstand. How bad is it?”

She grunted and took the aspirin, chasing it with the water before lying back down with a sigh and closing her eyes. Apparently there were people who enjoyed having full conversations in the morning, and she was of the mind-set that it was okay to hurt those people.

But Walker didn’t say another word. Probably because talking wasn’t his first choice of morning activity either.

She lifted the covers and took a peek. Walker was in black knit boxers and nothing else. She wore a sports bra and cheeky undies. They’d come from a set of five, each with a pun on a different sport. At the moment, she was wearing the hockey ones, which had little hockey pucks and sticks all over them and said PUCK OFF across the front. “This isn’t what I was wearing last night.”

“Nope.”

She swiveled her gaze his way. He was looking amused again.

“Where are my clothes?” she asked.

His amusement faded. “You don’t remember?”

She frowned and gathered together some loose thoughts. Rescuing Caitlin from the florist shop. The bar. The penis cookies. Sharing secrets with Heather and Caitlin. Dancing. Dancing with Walker. Going home. Trying to execute a sexy striptease . . . “Oh God,” she moaned.

“There it is.”

“Tell me I didn’t really try to do a striptease when we got home.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you.”

She stared at him, suddenly remembering everything, including wrapping her hands around his goodies. Welp, there was no point in being embarrassed now, especially when she’d enjoyed every second of it. “But how am I wearing more—and different—underwear than I was last night?”

“I put them on you so you wouldn’t kill me when you woke up.”

“A sports bra. I’m impressed.”

“Yeah, well, who knew how hard those things are to get on,” he said with a low laugh.

She laughed because okay, so he was a good guy. A really good guy. “And your clothes?”

“You got me down to my skivvies before I could control you.”

There was a little quiver in some of her good parts. Or all of them. And she wasn’t the only one. He was . . . awake too, and she lifted the covers to take another peek.

“See anything that interests you?”

Yes. “Drunk Maze is losing her touch if you’ve still got a stitch of clothing on.”

He laughed. “No, she’s not. You were a lot of fun last night. You always are.”

“Maybe we should forget about last night.”

“Too late.” He leaned back against the headboard, hands behind his head, the sheets pooled in his lap. “I’ve already filed it with my other favorite Maze memories.”

He sat there in her bed looking so delectable she was nearly rendered stupid enough to forget why they weren’t friends with benefits. Nearly. The truth was she needed a time-out, and fast. Reaching over the side of the mattress, she grabbed up his shirt from the floor. Pulling it on, she instantly realized her mistake. It smelled like him, which was to say delicious. She nearly pressed it to her face to inhale it, but he was still watching, so she flopped onto her back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “Are Heather and Caitlin okay?”

“Jace took care of Heather, but because Sammie was sleeping, he took her to my room, and when he didn’t open the door again, I took it as man code to go away. So then I got Caitlin to her bed—”

“Where was Dillon?”

“He didn’t wake up.”

Asshole.

“Yeah,” Walker said, watching her face. “I’m with you there. But we can’t step in, Maze. This is her life, her choices.”

“But what if she’s basing her choices on things she believed to be true that might not be?”

“Such as?”

“A year ago she had a nervous breakdown.” She waited for his reaction and didn’t get one. “You knew?”

“Not until long after,” he admitted.

“And you didn’t tell me or Heather?”

“It was her story to tell.”

She hated that but knew he was right. Knew also that if she’d been checking in with Cat as she should have, Cat would have told her herself. “Dillon was the only one there for her.” That Maze hadn’t been was something she’d have to live with. “And I think she feels a lot of gratitude to him for that. But she was also under the impression he wanted kids as much as she does.”

“Again,” Walker said softly, “her life, her choices. She’s free to walk away, Maze. People do it all the time.”

She ignored the dig, intended or not. “She’s getting married tomorrow.”

“Have faith in her.”

She nodded. Sighed. Stared up at the ceiling some more, extremely aware that their bodies, side by side, were touching, and that his was big and warm and corded with muscles that she wouldn’t mind tracing with her tongue. “Why aren’t you out running, or doing something equally insane?”

“Because we have unfinished business.”

“We always have unfinished business.”

“Not that,” he said with a laugh. “Not entirely, anyway.”