by Jill Shalvis
She had to smile. “He backed right off when you threatened to rearrange his doodles.”
He grinned. “His doodles?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, tell me.”
She pointed at him. “You’re just trying to get me to talk dirty.”
“Yes, please.” He laughed but sobered quickly. “I remember all of it, Maze.” He closed his eyes. “But I hate that you don’t.”
“Walk?”
“Yeah?”
“I lied,” she admitted softly. “I’m so sorry. I blame my stupid pride.” She scooted a little closer and crawled back under the covers and into his arms. “I remember all of it.”
He stared at her.
“Everything,” she whispered. “You. Us. What we did. How I felt. I remember it all. You jokingly said you’d ruin me for all men, and you did. You ruined my heart.”
He drew a deep breath and pulled her in tight. “Nothing to forgive,” he said huskily, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. He lifted his head. “So what’s the verdict?”
“That we were both young and dumb?”
“Good thing we’re old now.”
“Speak for yourself.” She straddled his lean hips before bending down to rub her jaw against his scruffy one, then pressing her face to his throat and breathing him in. His skin was warm, and she hummed with pleasure as his hands slid down her body, taking their sweet time too, slowing to explore every inch. She did the same with her lips, brushing them back and forth just beneath his jaw, working her way up to his mouth, the whole while making sure to touch as much of him as she could.
“Is this going anywhere or are you just copping a feel?” he asked, voice thrillingly rough.
“Depends.”
Leaning over him, she kissed his neck and he gave her a lazy smile as he wrapped his arms around her, seeking out her mouth, kissing her breathless. Then he pulled back and stared at her. As they drank each other in, she watched emotions flicker over his face: hunger, desire, aching desire . . . and the same wildness that had always drawn her to him like a moth to the flame.
He smiled first, and when she returned it helplessly, he whispered her name and drew her back down. He rubbed his jaw against hers, pressed his face into her hair and inhaled deeply, breathing her in like she’d done to him. “Do you have any idea what you do to me, Maze?”
“Show me,” she whispered, and almost before the words were out, their clothes were gone and he’d rolled them so that she was flat on her back, covered in 180 pounds of lean muscle . . . the both of them unhinged, unglued, as he took them on a wild ride.
After, she lay there, stunned. When she finally managed to sit up, she took in the sight of Walker still kneeling in the middle of the bed, breathing hard, looking as dazed as she felt. “You okay?”
He gave a slight laugh. “I’m not sure.”
He lay down beside her and propped himself up on his elbow while she ran a finger down his chest, lazily thinking about following that finger with her tongue. Walker caught her hand in his and squeezed, but he looked torn, like he was trying to use both heads at the same time and was failing because of blood loss. She took in his frown and stilled. “Did we hit a hard limit? Too tired for round two?”
He laughed. “Smart-ass.”
“Then . . . ?”
His smile faded. “I need to know if you’re sinking as deep as I am again.”
She sagged back, shaken at his admission. “You want to talk about feelings? Now?”
His gaze never wavered. “Worried I’m going to say this isn’t just sex?”
Suddenly she became acutely aware of her own heartbeat and how her stomach was tightening uncomfortably. “I decided a long time ago not to worry about things like that.”
“Because you don’t stick around long enough to care?” he asked.
That he was right didn’t help.
He watched her for a minute. “I don’t want any more misunderstandings between us, so to be crystal clear, just now wasn’t a mistake, not for me. It was special, and if you run away, it’s fear. You’re afraid to do this.”
“This?” she asked thinly, trying not to panic.
“Us.”
Needing a moment, she rolled off the bed, realizing with surprise it was still dark.
“So I’m good enough to be married to, but not good enough to give a real shot?”
She turned and gaped at Walker, still in the bed, deceptively calm. “You want a real shot?”
“Yes.”
She gaped some more.
“Wow,” he said. “I guess I’m your one-and-done, huh?”
“Actually, technically, you’re a two and done, but I’m not saying that’s what this is.”
“Then say what you mean,” he said. “No more perceived wrongs, no more running instead of facing our shit. I don’t ever again want to be the idiot standing all alone in a hotel room wondering what the hell just happened.”
She was looking for her clothes, but at these words she turned and bumped right into a naked and pissed-off Walker. She stabbed a finger into his pec. “Want the truth?”
“Sure, let’s try that.”
She poked him again and searched for the right words to make him understand. “Truth—I’ve ruined every relationship I’ve ever been in. And I don’t want to ruin this, that would kill me.” She sucked in some air and told herself she absolutely was not going to cry. She was tougher than this. “Truth—I’d rather have you in my life from a distance than destroy this, and destroy it I will. I’m selfish, impulsive, and . . . Mayhem Maze.”
Walker’s hands slid up her arms. “Truth,” he said softly. “There’s only one of those three things that is true. I love that you’re impulsive. I love the way your mind works, and you have not ruined all of your relationships. You haven’t, Maze,” he repeated when she gave a small, disbelieving shake of her head. Ducking down to see right into her eyes, he smiled. “I’m still standing here, aren’t I?”
“Well, that’s because you like morning sex.”
He grinned. “I do. But to be fair, I like it at any time of the day or night. Not just mornings.”
She tried to pull free. “You aren’t listening to me,” she said.
“I always listen,” he assured her. “I just don’t always agree. You’re a lot of things, Maze, all of them pretty fucking amazing, making you who you are. I adore every part of you, even the parts that scare me just a little bit.” He smiled again when she rolled her eyes. “Look, be impulsive. Be whoever you want to be. Just let me be there at your side while you’re doing it.”
“Like . . . a couple?”
“Yes, just like that. I want us to be closer.” He paused. “And since you haven’t run off screaming, maybe you want that too.” He held out a hand. “Come with me?”
“Where?”
“Does it matter?”
She thought about that. “A little, but only because you’re naked.”
With a laugh, he tossed her some clothes and pulled his on as well. They tiptoed through the still-quiet house and down the wild grass hill to the water. He had her hand in his and a blanket tucked under his other arm as the sky was making the slow but dazzling shift from midnight black to a kaleidoscope of purples and blues. Nothing stirred except the occasional splash of a fish breaking the glass surface of the lake.
And there in the peaceful quiet of the predawn, alone with Walker and catching the sunrise, Maze let herself believe it could all be real.
Chapter 22
Walker’s man of honor to-do list:
—Send a thank-you note to drunk Elvis.
That long-ago summer spent out here on the lake had brought Walker a happiness he’d never experienced before. It’d taken him years and a trip back here this week to make him realize something: It wasn’t the place that made him happy.
It was the people in it.
Still a little off-balance from that newfound knowledge, he held Maze’s hand as they walked to the hidd
en cove. The sky had shifted to a pale purple above the still water, the stars quickly fading away. They sat, their backs to a huge rock, wrapped up in a blanket against the predawn chill, and watched the sun come up over the rolling hills.
“I used to come out here that summer,” he said. “Watched the sunrise, just like this.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. Sometimes Michael came with me. We liked the quiet. When we’d get back, Caitlin would be making all of us a huge breakfast, even back then.”
Maze laughed. “Yeah, she’d pretend we ran a restaurant. God, she was so bossy. She’d put us all to work, just so she could be in charge.”
“She used to make us leave her reviews,” he said. “Remember?”
“Yeah, because that’s the summer I discovered my love of all things baked. Her cinnamon rolls still highlight my fantasies.”
“Your yellow bikini highlighted my fantasies. Still does.” She laughed, as he’d intended. “I liked playing restaurant with you.”
She met his gaze. “You used to want to own one.”
“With you guys, yeah,” he said fondly. He still believed it’d be the perfect life and thought about Boomer selling the Whiskey River. “It’d be nice to be all together again.”
Looking torn between wanting exactly that and being scared of it at the same time, she nodded.
Not wanting her to get bogged down by her fears of letting love into her life, he playfully tugged on a loose strand of her hair. “You know, I also have a lot of fantasies of you without that yellow bikini.” This time he was prepared and was laughing as he caught her hands before she could punch him. Wrapping his arms around her, he hauled her onto his lap.
“The sun’s almost up,” she said, wriggling in a way that made his eyes cross with lust. “We are not doing it out here in broad daylight.”
“Agreed,” he said, mouth on her neck.
“You . . . do?”
She sounded so disappointed that he laughed again and nipped her jaw, working his way to her mouth. “Yes. Because we’re going to talk,” he said. “Like we’re on a date.”
“A date,” she echoed, like the concept was foreign to her.
“Is that so odd?”
“Odd, no. Backward, yes.” She smiled. “You don’t have to wine and dine me, Walk. You know I’m a sure thing.”
“Maze.” He took a beat because he needed to find the words to make her believe him. “You’re important to me.”
“Uh-oh.” She craned her neck to meet his gaze. “That’s your very serious voice.”
“Because I am very serious. You know how we both grew up. It was shit. It might have defined our childhoods, but I won’t let it define my adult life. We’re more than our circumstances. We deserve hopes and dreams and love like everyone else.”
She swallowed hard but didn’t take her eyes off his. “Actually, I don’t.”
“What?”
“I don’t know how you grew up. You never discussed it, not with any of us. Everyone always jokes that I’m the closemouthed one about the past, but really, it’s you.”
He could see hurt lurking in her expression and also in her voice.
“You know everything about me,” she went on. “Everything. But you hold back, Walker, even with the little stuff.”
True story. But he’d thought he’d been doing her and the others a favor. Who wanted to hear another sob story? No one. And he sure as hell never wanted the pity that would go along with it.
But apparently he hadn’t done any favors at all. The people who cared about him had shared everything, let him in, and in return, he’d built walls taller than . . . well, Maze’s. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“And . . . ?”
“And . . .” He drew a deep breath. “I was given up by my parents when I was two.”
She stilled, didn’t move a single muscle, like maybe if she did, he’d stop talking.
“I don’t know why, but I was left at a firehouse in Paso Robles.” He shrugged. “Like a bad pair of shoes. No one knew my name or even my birthday, or where I’d come from.”
He watched her eyes cloud over with fury. For him. “What happened?” she asked.
“They gave me a name—Walker, because I loved to be on my feet moving around. I ended up in the system, just like you.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t go in until I was a teenager. You were two.”
“I had some good homes,” he said. “Once I stayed with a family who owned and ran a café. We always had a ton of good food. It’s where I learned to cook.”
She sat straight up and stared at him in surprise. “Wait. You can cook? You buried your lede!”
He grinned. “I’m really good at it too, but I’d rather eat, so don’t tell Cat.”
She laughed. “You’re sneaky and manipulative and talented? I like it.”
“I know how to sew too.”
She gaped at him, looking shocked and hugely impressed. “Get out.”
“Serious. Once I lived with a family who made all their own clothes. I’d like to tell you I’m talented in that arena too, but I am most definitely not.” He held up his fingers. “I stuck myself so many times, I still don’t have much feeling in my fingertips.”
Taking his hands in hers and massaging them, she asked, “Who steered you toward the military and FBI?”
“The cop I told you about? With the good search programs? He caught me on his computer. Instead of kicking me out as he probably should have, he took me under his wing.” He smiled briefly, remembering. “Taught me how to not get caught. Suggested the military would be a great way to learn some respect for authority and a place where I’d learn to be a part of a unit. And he was right. I grew up a lot. As for the FBI . . .” He shrugged. “Felt right.”
She smiled. “You’re full of surprises.”
And, he knew, she related to a lot of what he’d grown up with. The uncertainty, moving from family to family, not sure where she fit in . . . He couldn’t believe he’d been so blind when it came to her. He never realized that the things that he’d shoved down deep inside and made so insignificant to him would have meant so much to her to know. How he’d gotten his name. Where he’d lived. His early experiences. And he wondered if he’d ever fucked up anything as much as he had his relationship with her.
He looked at her in the pale dawn light. Ran a finger along her temple, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, needing to touch her. He’d missed this. He’d missed her. “I’m sorry I haven’t shared more with you,” he said. “I’m going to change that.”
“Uh-huh.” She smiled. “You, Walker Scott, are going to become an open book?”
“With you.”
“Why?”
He had to laugh at the question. “Only you would question it.”
“Humor me.”
“Okay,” he said. “I like being with you.” He grinned. “In and out of bed.”
She stared at him for a beat, then dropped the eye contact and turned to stare at the water and the streaks of color across the sky. “Spending time together was never our problem,” she said. “For those few days in Vegas, I was so happy.”
“What’s stopping us from being that happy now?”
She looked at him as if he’d gone daft. “Besides the fact that this”—she gestured between them—“is over after tomorrow’s wedding?”
“And why is that again?”
“Because I’m leaving to go home to Santa Barbara, back to the grind. And you’re going back to the FBI three thousand miles away.” She paused. “Aren’t you?”
He drew a deep breath, needing to be honest but also not wanting to scare her off. Again. “It is where my life was only a week ago.”
Crickets literally chirped.
“Right,” Maze finally said, and tried to move off him.
But he held her in place. “Was,” he repeated.
She studied him for a moment. “You really think this could work?”
“Pretty sure we proved that earlier.” He smiled.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. And yeah.” He ran his hand down her back, snugging her in closer to him. “I’ve always known it could work, Maze. But . . .”
“I hate the but already.”
He palmed and squeezed her sweet ass. “But . . . it means getting rid of all the bullshit.”
She was still for a long beat, so still he wasn’t sure she was breathing. Then she carefully inhaled. “By bullshit, do you mean mine or yours?”
“Both,” he said, and could almost hear her self-doubts. “Hey,” he said softly, nudging her a bit to make her look at him. “Hey.”
“What?”
“I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, so stop thinking that.”
“Get out of my head, dammit.”
“I could only wish to be in your head, Maze.”
“No, you don’t. It’s a scary place.”
“Do you remember when we first met?” he asked.
“Yes.” She gave a small smile. “I was in Caitlin’s front yard when her parents pulled up with you.”
He nodded. “You were in the middle of a brawl with the kid next door. Like actually rolling around on the grass in a full-out war.”
“Not my finest moment,” she admitted softly.
“Are you kidding?” He was smiling at just the memory. “He’d thrown a rock at Michael and beaned him in the head. You were standing up for him, giving the little punk asshole a badly needed lesson.”
“That’s not how the parentals saw it. I was grounded for a week.”
“I don’t care how anyone else saw it. I took one look at you, bleeding from your nose, hair wild—”
She grimaced, and he nudged her again, wanting eye contact for this.
“Your jeans were ripped and your shirt had dirt all over it. Your expression was fierce and unapologetic and . . . well, pissed off at the world. And I thought you were the most impressive thing I’d ever seen.”
She looked embarrassed. “Come on.”
“You were amazing and incredible, and I still think that.”
She swallowed hard and her eyes skittered back to the view. “You see me differently than everyone else. They see the wild, feral kid, no plans, no dreams.”
