by Jill Shalvis
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Mom just texted, needs me to meet her at the cake shop. There’s some sort of misunderstanding and she knows you’re busy.”
Misunderstanding her ass. “But the point of today was to spend it here, with me and my family.”
Everyone was watching her, so she plastered a smile on her face.
“Everything okay with him?” Heather asked after he left. “When he and Maze were arm wrestling, he jumped the gun and I think he hurt himself.”
Maze was looking worried, which meant she’d done nothing wrong. Because when Maze did screw up, she owned it. So Caitlin nodded. “Everything’s fine,” she said. “He just had to go to a meeting.” And if he agreed to change the cake, she’d kill him. That should solve the problem. “Maze? What’s next?”
Maze consulted her itinerary. “Music! More dancing!” She hit Caitlin’s reception playlist. “Uptown Funk” came on.
Heather squealed and ran toward the makeshift dance floor, happily dancing with Sammie in her arms, her little feet swinging off the ground, their laughter filling the air. Jace and Maze joined them, and when Sammie got too heavy for Heather, Jace took her. Maze and Heather danced together until they realized Walker was still in a chair. Heather tugged him toward their little circle, and he good-naturedly let himself be dragged to the others.
It was one of Caitlin’s most favorite things about him, actually. He adapted to everything life threw at him, fitting in seamlessly no matter what. Dancing was probably close to the bottom of his list of favorite things to do, and yet because Heather had asked, he’d done it.
He’d do anything for any of them, including being willing to lay his life down. Caitlin knew this because he’d done it.
Watching, she found herself smiling and relaxing for the first time all day, and it wasn’t because she’d finally suddenly learned to relax. It was because with these guys, she could take a deep breath. She could let herself go a little bit, even fall, because someone would catch her. She turned to Dillon, before remembering he’d left. She’d wanted him to mingle with everyone and become a part of them. It was important to her, more than anything, and the thought had her chest tightening again, because he wasn’t going to mingle, he didn’t care to. Which meant that he didn’t care how important it was to her.
She wasn’t his first priority.
Cake was.
Chapter 13
Maze’s maid of honor to-do list:
—Call the bakery to make sure the carrot wedding cake is still carrot.
Maze walked around the mock-up wedding reception with a trash can, picking up the last of the mess. Darkness had fallen, but the night was unseasonably warm, and she was sweating as she worked and thinking about taking a dip in the lake.
Heather had Sammie inside for a bath after getting cake . . . everywhere. Jace was on a run. Walker was in the kitchen handling the inside mess. Dillon hadn’t come back from whatever he’d left his own practice reception to do, and Caitlin had gone inside a little bit ago for aspirin.
Maze worried about the look she’d seen on Cat’s face after Dillon had left. She wasn’t glowing, but worse, she didn’t seem excited. Even Maze knew those weren’t good signs.
The bride was in trouble, and Maze hated that. Hated it and felt guilty about it. Maybe if she’d been in touch more, around more, she could’ve . . . what? Encouraged Caitlin to find a better guy? What right did Maze have to judge Dillon? He seemed fine enough. It was just that Caitlin deserved more than fine.
She deserved everything. She knew that Cat had to be missing Michael more than ever during this time, and ditto. But she needed to find a way to reach the old Caitlin.
When she finished cleaning up, Maze found herself walking down the small dock to think. She kicked off her sneakers and sat. The night was quiet around her, and she let out a long breath and as much tension as she could. But the sudden prickle of awareness at the back of her neck alerted her that she was no longer alone.
Sure enough, Walker came up beside her, hands in his front pockets, staring down at her, an unfathomable expression on his face. He was good at hiding his feelings when he wanted to. She admired that. But even more, she admired the fact that he had feelings at all, and how he was perfectly willing and able to share them—when he wanted, that is.
Apparently now wasn’t one of those times. “What?” she asked.
“I was putting the food away and saw you from the kitchen window. You looked like you could use a friend.”
“I wasn’t aware that we were friends.”
“Actually, I consider you one of the very few real ones I have.”
She sucked in a breath at that. Because in spite of everything, same. “We went years without speaking,” she reminded him.
“Real friends aren’t measured by time.” He crouched at her side and met her gaze in the ambient glow of the moon’s light. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Everything . . . “I guess sometimes it feels hard to be here with you all.”
“Maze,” he said softly, voice tinged with regret. “How long are you going to carry all the excess weight around? It’s got to be getting heavy.”
“Hey, everyone gains a little weight in their late twenties,” she quipped, purposely misunderstanding him.
But he wasn’t playing. Already barefoot, he sat at her side and tilted her face up to his. “You can’t joke this away.” He left his hand on her and studied her for a long moment. “You’re here because you want something.”
“Yeah? And what would that be?”
“Redemption.”
She stilled, because that was actually true. Not that it was ever going to happen. “Don’t you get it?” she whispered. “There is no redemption for me.”
“Exactly, because what happened that night wasn’t your fault.”
For a second, she thought he meant their wedding, and her heart skipped a beat because maybe he was going to tell her that he’d made a terrible mistake and missed her so much that he couldn’t go on without her.
But of course that’s not what he meant, and she didn’t want to talk about what he did mean. She moved to stand up, but he grabbed her hand. They played tug-of-war until she yanked free. “What’s your problem?”
“Actually, the question is what’s your problem,” he said, annoyingly calm. “You’re blaming yourself for Michael’s death. You’ve got the biggest case of survivor’s guilt I’ve ever seen, even though what happened that night wasn’t even your fault.”
“Of course it was!” she cried, tossing up her hands. “It was my impulsive behavior that started the whole thing. ‘Let’s sneak out,’ I said. ‘It’ll be fun,’ I said.”
Walker caught her hands in his. “I was already going out that night.” He held her gaze, his own steady. Open. “I only let you think it was your idea because I was going to walk there with you and Caitlin, then ditch you both to go hang out with my friends.”
She jerked to her feet. “What?”
“Yeah.” He stood as well. “Look, until a few days ago, I had no idea you were harboring all the guilt as your own. But, Maze, I’m the one who couldn’t get Michael out of the house alive.”
“No,” she said, stepping toward him, looking him right in the eyes. “Are you kidding me? You were the only one of us who even tried!”
He was looking at her with a strange expression. It took her a moment to realize she had her hands on his chest, that they stood toe-to-toe, and that her feet had no intention of backing up.
He shook his head. “The effort doesn’t mean jack shit, because I failed.”
For the first time since being back here, Maze could see pain in the depths of his eyes. She sucked in a breath, wondering how she’d been so clueless as to miss that he’d been suffering alone in silence. “Is that why you left when you turned eighteen?” she asked. “Going into the military and then the FBI? Because you couldn’t save Michael? You felt you needed to pay penance by trying to s
ave the world instead?”
He didn’t say anything to this, which was as good as a yes.
“Oh, Walk,” she murmured softly.
He reached for her. There’d been something heavy lodged in her chest for a long time, but it loosened a bit now as he pulled her in, and she slowly felt her resolve wavering. The need to keep touching him was overpowering everything else, including breathing. She could hear the air catch in his throat as she moved her hands over him and up to cup his jaw, feeling the warmth and the delicious roughness of his stubble beneath her hand for the first time in years.
“I remember running into the house,” he said quietly, voice raw, “terrified you’d try to come with me. And then the next thing I knew, I was on a gurney and being taken away in an ambulance.”
Her chest tightened at the memory. “It was awful. The house was an inferno and you just ran right into it.” She could still smell the smoke, feel it burning her eyes and lungs. “We were terrified you were gone too.” She shook her head. “Why have we never talked about this?”
“Because you hate to talk about anything involving emotions, and I hate to make you sad. And remembering makes you sad.” He paused. “For a long time, I thought you were angry at me.”
“For what?”
“For not being able to get to Michael in time. For getting you drunk in Vegas and marrying you. For not making sure the paperwork didn’t get filed. Hell, for breathing.” He shrugged. “Pick one.”
She was stunned. “I’m not mad at you for any of that, and I can’t believe you’d think I was.”
“Then what? Because you’ve definitely been avoiding me for a long time.”
She drew a deep breath. “Truthfully?”
He nodded.
“Right now I’m not sure.”
Careful, her inner voice of reason whispered. It wasn’t all that long ago that he’d shattered you into pieces . . .
“What are we going to do about the divorce?”
His eyes had gone dark and sexy, but they cleared at her question. “I told you, the ball’s in your court, and I meant it. If you sign the docs and give them to me, I’ll take care of it.”
I’ll take care of it. That was exactly what he’d said the morning after their wedding. It had set her off then, and it set her off now. Because, oh yeah, she did remember why she was so mad at him. She was damn tired of being a mistake he had to take care of. And suddenly he was standing way too close. “Oh my God, I’m so stupid.” She gave him a little shove, needing him to back up.
He didn’t so much as budge.
“You’re an ass.”
“Undoubtedly.” He paused. “But a hint would be nice.”
Mental head slap, because on most things, he knew exactly what she was feeling. So how was it that when it came to this, to them, he never seemed to know? And why hadn’t she stopped feeling things for him, all the things . . . Gah. She hated that, resented it so much that the ball in her chest was back. “I’ll give you a hint,” she said, and shoved him again.
He grabbed her hands. “Stop.”
But she couldn’t. She needed to go, needed to get past him, so she shoulder-checked him as she slid by.
“Dammit, Maze—”
Which was the last thing she heard before they both went tumbling off the dock and into the water. Plunging into the lake at night was scary because there was literally no perspective. It was dark above the surface and just as dark beneath it, so for one horrifyingly long beat, Maze couldn’t figure out which way was up.
Then a set of strong hands shoved her to the surface.
“What the hell, Maze?”
“You made me mad!”
He looked at her incredulously. “So you dumped us both into the lake?”
“I didn’t mean to! And since when are you not strong as an ox?”
“Since you got your bony-ass shoulder right into the exact spot where I was shot.”
All the anger drained out of her in a single heartbeat. “Oh my God,” she gasped, brushing her hands over his chest as if she could see the damage through the water and his clothing. “Walk, I’m so sorry!”
“Are you?”
“Yes! You think I like hurting you?”
Instead of answering, he pushed the wet hair from her face. Then his hand disappeared into the water and she realized he had a grip on her and was keeping them both afloat. The night air was cool and somehow made the water seem warmer than it was. Above them, the moon was nothing but a sliver, casting a blue glow just to the right of them, enough to see his eyes were dark, mouth unsmiling, and yet nothing about the lines of his body said anger or resentment to her.
So her own anger and resentment also drained. And that was when she realized something else: they were chest to chest, thighs to thighs, and all their good parts in between were touching. And here was the thing about Walker—from a distance, he was impressive. Up close, even more so. He had an air about him, an easy confidence that never tipped into cocky and a way of moving that reminded her of a cat. A big, feral cat. Although this wasn’t what was making it hard to breath or giving her little tremors. Nope. She wanted to say it was adrenaline, but she knew better.
It was arousal.
Because damn. Walker up close and personal had always been her kryptonite, and apparently that hadn’t changed. She stared at his face, utterly still, aware of him holding her close, treading water for both of them, their gazes locked, feet occasionally brushing.
Neither of them shifted away. It was the first time she’d been this close to him in three years, and even longer than that since they’d touched like this, and dammit, how was it that he was even sexier now than he’d ever been?
She didn’t have many rules for herself, but the few she did have were necessary for her sanity. And one of them was to stay miles away from Walker—or if not miles, then about eight inches should do it.
“You okay?” he asked, voice low, husky.
A part of her felt more okay and more alive than she’d been in a long, long time. But another part of her felt confused at the closeness and the concern in his voice, not to mention her body’s reaction to it. Unsure what to say, she reacted with predictable immaturity. She dunked him, then started swimming to shore.
He caught her in two strokes. “Are we racing?”
They’d always raced when they were younger. Everything had been a challenge between them, a dare. “Yes.”
“Same rules?”
First to shore had always gotten to be ruler of the universe for a whole day, and the loser had to do everything the other one said. Only a problem if one intended to lose, and she never intended to lose.
“Say it, Maze.”
“I’m going to win and you’re going to call me ruler of your universe for a whole day.”
“And a night,” he threatened . . . or was it a promise? In either case, she was already hauling ass toward the shore.
Before she’d gone three strokes, a shadow passed her.
Damn him.
By the time she stepped out of the water a minute later, dripping wet and breathless, Walker was standing there, casual as could be, also dripping wet, but not breathless in the slightest.
And he wasn’t alone. Nope, the whole gang had appeared—Jace, Heather, and Caitlin—all of them looking boggled.
“Holy cow,” Heather said. “Aren’t you guys freezing?”
Walker shook his head. “The water’s warm.”
The water was not warm, so it was a good thing that annoyance burned hot.
“Were you . . . racing?” Caitlin asked in disbelief.
“Of course not,” Maze said, and Walker actually laughed. She stared at him and found a slow smile curving her mouth too, because damn, his was infectious.
“Dude, you’re supposed to let the girl win,” Jace said.
“Are you kidding?” Walker asked, gaze still locked on Maze. “She’d rather lose than win by pity. And if you’ve spent the past . . . what was it? A year with her n
ow? You’d know that.”
“Okay, so who needs a drink?” Heather asked brightly. Slipping her arms through Jace’s and Cat’s, she turned them toward the house, looking back to give Maze a look that wasn’t that hard to decipher.
Figure your shit out . . .
Right. Like she was so good at doing that. She eyed Walker and found herself wound up all over again.
He swiveled his gaze her way, arching a brow.
“The least you can do is pretend to be tired,” she said with disgust.
“I don’t pretend, Maze. Ever.”
No shit.
“I won fair and square.” He came close. Too close. “But it’s cute you were so certain you’d beat me.”
She snorted. “You think you know me.”
“I do know you. More than anyone else.”
True statement. Didn’t mean it didn’t piss her off. “If you’re so smart then, claim your prize. What do I have to do tomorrow?”
His eyes dropped to her mouth.
She stopped breathing. “You could have me do anything, and you want what, a simple kiss?”
“Oh, there’s nothing simple about kissing you. But I’m not asking for that. I wouldn’t kiss another man’s girlfriend.”
She opened her mouth but then shut it, because what could she say? This was a mess of her own making. “So . . . I don’t owe you a day?”
“Oh, you do,” he said smoothly. “A day and a night. Twenty-four hours, Maze.”
Gulp. “When?” she whispered.
“I’ll let you know.”
She crossed her arms, nervous. Worried. “But what do you want?”
He smiled and her stomach went squishy. And if she was being honest, that wasn’t her only physical reaction.
“You’ll just have to wait and find out,” he said, and then followed the others, dripping water as he went, which didn’t seem to bother him at all. In fact, he suddenly looked downright cheerful.
Chapter 14
Walker’s man of honor to-do list:
—Work harder at staying away from the maid of honor.
Walker woke up the next morning to Maze rushing into his room, then immediately hiding behind his door, peeking out at whatever she was running from.
