by Jill Shalvis
“And Michael?”
All she could do was shake her head.
“Ah, Maze.” Jace pulled her to him and squeezed, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
“It was the smoke that got him. He never even woke up.” She sniffed and choked back the emotion, shaking it off the best she could. “The house couldn’t be saved. So Caitlin and her parents had to move. And Heather, Walker, and I were sent to other foster homes. Thanks to Caitlin, we managed to stay in contact.”
“And then Vegas happened.”
She nodded.
“Heather said you two were always close. She didn’t know much about his early years. She said if anyone knew, it’d be you.”
Maze knew shockingly little as well, not for a lack of asking. Walker had coaxed much of her story from her over the years but had always shrugged off his own. “He’s a closed book.”
“Were you . . . seeing each other?”
“No. Just here and there with the others, but a few years before, we’d had a near miss at one of Caitlin’s holiday parties.” She’d never forget it. They’d been out back beneath a starry night sky and a huge tree—and a sprig of mistletoe. It’d been a joke really, when she’d gone up on tiptoe to kiss him, but it had quickly escalated.
“Near miss?” Jace asked.
Maze bit her lower lip. “Look, there was eggnog involved. We . . . kissed.”
“Wow. You heathens.”
“Hey, it was a big deal, okay?”
“Why?”
She shrugged, trying to find the words. “There’d always been a tension between us that was different than with the others. And it wasn’t until then”—when they’d nearly taken each other up against the tree but had come to their senses—“that either of us realized it was a physical chemistry. But we caught ourselves in time. I think because we knew it would ruin everything. Which means I was a lot smarter when I was still in my teens than I was at twenty-one.” She pulled the divorce papers from beneath her pillow and tossed them into his lap.
Jace opened the file and read, his eyes widening in surprise. “So Elvis did file.”
“Go figure. A man doing something he promised he wouldn’t.”
Jace grimaced and ran a hand down his face. “You really didn’t know?”
She shook her head. “Walker didn’t either. Not until he went for a loan for some property he wanted to buy. That’s when he had these papers drawn up.”
“And now all you have to do is sign.”
“Yep.”
He met her gaze. “And yet you haven’t signed.”
“I don’t have a pen.”
He rolled his eyes.
“I’m going to sign!”
He stood. “You know, suddenly everything’s crystal clear.” He laughed. “You’re still into him and you’re acting like you’re also still in high school. You do realize all you have to do is tell him how you feel, right?”
“And you do realize you know nothing, right?” She stood too. “It was over the next morning, Jace. Remember the part where I said he hurt me? Well, he didn’t want me, not really. So no, I’m not going to tell him a damn thing. I’m going to sign these papers and move on with my damn life!”
His smile had vanished. “Look, I realize I don’t know shit about this—”
“Damn right you don’t.”
“But I do know you. You don’t choose people lightly, Maze. Ever. And from what I can tell about Walker, he’s a stand-up guy with a solid but tough job, and he keeps the people he cares about in his life close. And . . .”
She narrowed her eyes. “And what?”
“You’re one of those people.”
“I’m a pain in his ass.”
“No doubt,” he said. “But it’s more than that and I think you know it.”
And then he was gone, leaving her alone with the thoughts she didn’t want to have. So she grabbed some clothes and headed into the bathroom. It was steamy from a shower . . . and not empty.
“Oh,” she said, an involuntary exclamation at the sight of Walker in nothing but a towel, leaning over the bathroom sink shaving. “Sorry. I was just going to shower . . .”
“No problem.” He gestured to the shower behind him. “Help yourself.”
She might have, but to get past him, she’d have to brush up against him.
He gave her a smile via the mirror.
“What?” she asked a little defensively.
“You’re trying to decide whether you want to touch me or shove me,” he said, still shaving.
She went hands on hips. “Let’s go with shove.”
“Which means you do want to touch, you just don’t want me to know it,” he said smugly.
“You know what? I’ll come back later,” she said, annoyingly breathless for no reason, but definitely not from the sight of him in just a towel, still damp from his shower.
He gave a low laugh, and she narrowed her eyes.
“Look,” he said, “we both have a busy day ahead with wedding errands and chores.”
This was true. There were errands to run, lots of them. And she also had to go check out the wedding venue, which was a property just outside of town in the middle of ranch land and wineries. It had a restaurant and wide-open patio that led to a gorgeous view of rolling green hills dotted with oaks. It was on her list to stop by and familiarize herself with it so that she could run the wedding rehearsal on Friday night just before the rehearsal dinner.
“So I’m sure we can be grown-ups about this. Plus, we’ve both seen it all.”
“Yes, but . . .” She squirmed. “It’s been a while.”
He smiled. “Has anything changed?”
“Maybe.” When his gaze met hers in the mirror, she lifted a shoulder. “I’m not exactly the cute young twenty-one-year-old anymore.”
“No, you’re something even better.”
Her breath caught, and again their gazes met and held in the mirror. “Are you taking your sweet-ass time on purpose?” she asked.
“You think I’ve got a sweet ass?”
She crossed her arms but couldn’t resist giving the body part in question a long look-over in the towel, which made her go damp in places that had no business going damp. “You already know damn well you’ve got the best ass on the West Coast.”
“But not the East Coast?”
“Are you flirting with me?”
“Not if you have a boyfriend,” he said easily.
They stared at each other for a long beat before he rinsed off his razor and went back to shaving. “But to be clear,” he said, “your ass is the sweetest on the planet. In case you were wondering.”
She locked her wobbly knees and let out a shaky breath. “Could you possibly hurry up?”
“And miss the expression on your face when you have to try to squeeze past me to the shower?”
She made a big point of sucking it all in to get past him without touching. Or shoving.
He just laughed and kept on shaving. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve got the memories of the last time you touched me on repeat.”
“I’d have thought your legions of women since then would’ve erased the memories of me.”
“I don’t know about legions,” he said, all teasing aside now. “But it could be the entire female race and the memories of you from that night will never fade.”
Then he turned off the sink, wiped his face with a towel, and, when he looked up and found her just staring at him, smiled and left her alone to shower.
So how ridiculous was it when a small—and maybe actually not so small at all—part of her wished he’d stayed?
Chapter 10
Walker’s man of honor to-do list:
—Do not sleep with, marry (again), or kill Caitlin’s maid of honor.
After the surprisingly revealing conversation with Maze, Walker headed downstairs. Since it was early, he doubted anyone else was up, but it was actually late for him. Apparently habits were ha
bits. Getting up early . . . tangling with Maze . . .
He really didn’t want to be pulled into her force field, but hell if that had stopped him. The only thing that helped was the certainty she was feeling it too, because when she thought no one was paying attention, she watched him. And then if he managed to catch her eye, she’d either roll hers or turn away.
Denial had always been her best friend.
He’d been curious to see how quickly she’d sign the divorce papers. He’d expected to feel closure, but at the moment, he was regretting even handing her the docs, because he knew the truth now.
He was never going to find closure with her.
But there was no going back, which meant that once again, there was something out of his control and he was left waiting to see if she was going to pass on him like a bad habit.
Other than the group right here in this house, people didn’t walk toward him, they walked away. Hell, they ran. Even in his job, when people saw him coming, they ran. Granted, those were usually the bad guys. But his birth parents had walked. None of his foster families had kept him, including Caitlin’s parents. Okay, so their house had burned down and they literally couldn’t foster anymore, but still. Even the system had walked away the day he turned eighteen. But none of them had hurt him more than Maze.
No matter how hard he tried, he was always left standing alone with no one to count on except himself. But at least now he was choosing to be alone. His choice, his control, and he was okay with that. Or he had been.
Until he’d seen Maze again.
In the kitchen, he was surprised to find Heather at the table, head down, fast asleep. Sammie was in a Frozen princess nightgown, sitting in front of an open cupboard, empty food containers spread out before her. With one hand, she was gnawing on a piece of toast; the other was happily banging on a container with a wooden spoon. Roly and Poly were her avid audience, their buggy eyes locked in on her toast. Sammie grinned up at Walker and lifted both arms at him in silent, drooling demand.
There weren’t a lot of people who could get him to bend to their will, but this little thing could do it without trying. When he scooped her up, Heather’s head jerked upright. “Who? What? Where?”
Walker put a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you go back to bed?”
Heather got to her feet. “No, I’ve gotta dress Sammie and then run to Home Depot for stuff for the reception. Maze’s been working her ass off, so I offered to take her list and do the store run.”
“The list?”
Heather fumbled in her jeans pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.
Walker took it, kissed her on the top of her head, and nudged her out of the kitchen. “Go back to bed,” he repeated. “I’ve got Sammie and we’ll go to Home Depot.”
“They don’t open until six A.M.”
“It’s six thirty.”
Heather blinked sleepily. “Oh . . .” She smiled, but it turned into a yawn. “Time flies when you have a kid. But I can’t let you do this, it’s too much.”
She looked so exhausted that he didn’t want her on the road. “It’s okay, I’ve got this.”
“You only think you’ve got this. Trust me, running errands with her is a nightmare.”
Maybe, and granted, he knew zip about having a kid. But he did know a little something about being one. His childhood was a blur of never belonging or being wanted. He knew Heather’s past wasn’t all that different. The fact that she was raising Sammie on her own gutted him, but he was trying to stay a presence in their lives, for Sammie’s sake as well as Heather’s. And his own, if he was being honest. Besides . . . “How hard can it be?”
Heather snorted. “You’ll see, and bless you. Oh, and pro tip? She’s more cooperative if you play the Frozen soundtrack on repeat. Do you have it on your Spotify?”
Walker gave her a blank look.
Heather shook her head. “Never mind. Take my car. It’s got her car seat anyway, and the CD’s already loaded.”
Five minutes later Walker had Heather’s keys and was trying to get Sammie into the car seat. But Sammie didn’t want to get in the car seat, and apparently her superpower was the inhuman ability to turn herself into a limp noodle while screaming bloody murder at the same time.
“What’s going on?”
Walker turned and found Maze standing behind him, looking cool and calm, sipping coffee and looking vastly amused.
“Having fun?” she asked over Sammie’s screaming.
“Heather was too tired to adult,” he said. “So I said I’d go to Home Depot and get the stuff you needed.”
“And you got conned into babysitting while you were at it?”
“More like bamboozled. I actually volunteered.”
She laughed out loud, and damn, she had a great laugh. She bent to look into the back seat at Sammie, who was still using her vocal cords to their full extent. “Hey, kiddo, I’ll make you a deal. You let me buckle you in and I’ll buy you something at the store.”
Sammie went from crying to smiling in a single heartbeat. “Toy!” she squealed in delight, and let Maze buckle her in.
Maze straightened and gave Walker a victory smile.
“Doesn’t count,” he said. “You bribed her.”
“Doesn’t matter how, what matters is it worked.” She got into the passenger seat.
He slid behind the wheel and gave her a look. “You’re coming along?”
“Don’t want to miss you getting your ass kicked by a two-and-a-half-year-old.”
“There’ll be no ass kicking. It’s about setting expectations and having rules.”
She laughed again. “This isn’t the military, Walk. She’s not your little soldier.”
“It’s about logic and common sense.”
Maze just shook her head. “You poor, ignorant man.”
He decided to overlook this. But he was having trouble overlooking her thin, lacy see-through sweater over a cami, both topping denim shorts that showed off her legs. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to concentrate on anything else, but then the Frozen CD started playing and Sammie began to sing. At high volume and off-key. He turned the music down, but she just got louder.
Halfway to Home Depot, while Walker’s ears were already starting to bleed, Sammie yelled, “Potty!”
“We’re almost there,” he told her.
“There’s a gas station on the corner,” Maze said. “Maybe you should stop.”
“I’m not taking her to a gas station bathroom,” Walker said.
“Potty!”
“We’re hurrying,” he said via the rearview mirror. “Two minutes.”
He pulled into the Home Depot parking lot. There was a light cool wind, but hell if he wasn’t sweating. He got out, pulled Sammie from her car seat and set her down. He stripped off his sweatshirt, and before he could toss it into the driver’s seat, he heard water splashing.
Sammie had hiked up her princess nightgown and spread her legs, and had her head bent, watching herself pee through her Wonder Woman undies.
In the parking lot.
A woman got out of the car across from them and tsked at him.
Maze was grinning. “Tried to tell you.” She crouched next to Sammie, they did some quick maneuvering, and then Maze was carrying Sammie toward the entrance.
Walker, who rarely, if ever, felt clueless and uncertain of his next move, but who felt both of those things now, strode after them. When he caught up, he looked at Maze. “How we doing?”
“Well, Sammie’s commando since her babysitter didn’t listen to her, and I need some more caffeine, but other than that, we’re both hanging in there.”
Three aisles in, Walker was holding Sammie in one arm, pushing the cart with his free hand, and trying to keep up with Maze, who was deep in her list and concentrating. Sammie was crying again because he wouldn’t let her have any of the mountain of bags of M&Ms they’d just passed, done up for Valentine’s Day.
“Ms!” Sammie sobbed, staring desponde
ntly over his shoulder with an arm outstretched dramatically as they passed them by.
“Bad for your teeth,” he said.
Sammie sobbed through three more rows until he caved and gave her a bag of M&Ms for each hand to keep her from ripping random shit off the shelves.
He could hear Maze, out in front of them, laughing her ass off. He set Sammie in the cart and came up behind a still-chortling Maze, where she was facing a row of unfinished frames. “What the hell is so funny?”
“Not supposed to swear around impressionable ears.”
“Trust me, she can’t hear me over her own inhaling of the M&Ms.”
“Maybe I meant me,” she said.
Now he laughed. “I’ve never made a single impression on you.”
“Wanna bet?”
He wanted to give some brainpower to that confusing response, but he was distracted because she’d reached up to a high shelf, her perfectly shaped ass about an inch from his—
“Ms!” Sammie yelled at him. “More!”
What felt like five lifetimes later, Maze finally had everything on her list. By the time they checked out and got a commando, chocolate-covered Sammie back to the car, Walker was also covered in chocolate and wanted to stab himself in the eye with a stick. Repeatedly.
“You smell like candy.”
He sent a death glare at Maze, who just laughed at him again. He didn’t get it. In his world, he was feared. Men backed down whenever he gave them this same look.
Not Maze. She actually moved into his personal space, piercing his armor with nothing but that smile. “I can’t tell you how much fun I just had.”
He crossed his arms and stared down at her.
Not intimidated in the least, she just grinned. “Poor big, tough, untouchable Walker. Taken down by a little girl.”
“By two girls, actually . . .” he said with a rough laugh. “I seriously underestimated and underappreciated parenthood.”
Sammie fell asleep in her car seat as he and Maze loaded the trunk.
“That was like taking your most badly behaved buddy out when he’s shit-faced,” he said. “No filter, wanting every ridiculous thing he sees, crying and getting mad over nothing, singing nonsense at the top of his lungs . . . I kept expecting to get kicked out and banned from the store for life.”