Maze’s maid of honor to-do list:
—Call the caterer to add alcohol for the bride’s dressing room ahead of the ceremony.
That night, Maze didn’t have a nightmare, but she did have one hell of a weird dream. Elvis was chasing her around the lake, and she was in a wedding dress. She sat straight up in bed with a horrified laugh. It was certainly an improvement over her last nightmare, but no thank you.
It was still dark. A glance at the clock told her it was four thirty in the morning. What the heck? She peeked over the side of the bed, but Jace was out like a light. So she stepped over him, stole the sweats he’d left on the floor, and left. In the hallway, she paused in front of Walker’s room. His door was ajar, so she took a peek.
He lay on his back in the center of the bed, breathing steadily and evenly. She knocked lightly on the doorjamb, but he didn’t move. Biting her lower lip, she squeezed in and shut the door behind her. “Hey,” she whispered.
Nothing. The sheet was pooled dangerously low on his hips, revealing a mouthwatering chest and abs that she suddenly wanted to lick.
“Walk.” This time she added a poke to his chest.
“Shh. He’s sleeping,” he murmured.
“It’s almost morning.”
He cracked an eye and looked at her before smiling. “You’re right. We should hurry. Come here.” And he lifted the sheet in open invitation.
He wasn’t wearing anything except testosterone and pheromones, and her heart stopped. “Oh my God.”
“It bodes well for me that you’re already saying ‘oh my God.’ But I’m going to need you to lose your boyfriend’s sweats first.”
“You and I are not going to—” She drew in a deep breath. How did he always derail her? “I’m only here to tell you that I’m going to sign the papers.”
He paused a beat. “Okay.”
“I just haven’t yet because I want to read through them first.”
“Don’t worry. I’m still leaving my vinyl collection to you.”
“You think this is funny?” she asked in disbelief.
“Your reaction to it is.”
“You know what? I’m going now. People are going to hear us.”
“They’re not awake. They’re lucky enough to be sleeping.”
She turned to go, but he caught her, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. His eyes were open but heavy lidded, his jaw beyond a five o’clock shadow, mouth almost curved. “You’re up before dawn. What am I missing?”
“Nothing.”
He sat up with a frown. “Did you have another nightmare?”
“Yes. Elvis was chasing me around the lake.” She left off the part where she’d been in a wedding dress because that was just too embarrassing.
“Want me to make you forget about the dream?”
“No!” her mouth said, but her other body parts quivered and cried, Yes! “I’m going now because we don’t want anyone to see me and think I’m making the walk of shame back to my room.”
“We don’t?”
“No, because right now no one knows about Vegas. And if we keep it quiet, no one will ever have to know.”
He studied her for a long beat. “And that would bother you, if anyone knew.”
“Yes!”
He let go of her and slid out of bed. Naked. He walked to a duffel bag on a chair, where he took his time pulling on a pair of jeans over a world-class ass.
No underwear.
The denim looked soft and well worn. He grabbed a shirt next, covering up that scrumptious body. When he caught her staring, his lips twitched.
“What?” she asked. “I like to look.”
“Good to know. The ball’s in your court, tough girl. On both counts.” Then he headed toward the door.
“Wait. What does that mean, ‘on both counts’?”
He gave her a long look, smiled . . . and walked out of the room.
Tossing up her hands, she went back to her room. Jace was gone. She climbed into bed and was just closing her eyes when Jace came back, showered and fully dressed. “Sleep well?” he asked.
The question and his tone were mild, but she studied him closely. “Yes,” she said. “Like a log.”
“A log who dreams about wedding dresses, Elvis, Vegas, and, near as I can piece together, the best sex you ever had? Tell me you weren’t having sex with Elvis.”
With a groan, she lay back and pulled her pillow over her face.
Jace laughed, and when he didn’t say anything else, she pushed the pillow off her face to look at him. His face was serious now. “What?”
He sat at her hip. “Why are we really pretending to be together?”
“I already told you. Everyone else was bringing a plus-one and I didn’t want to be a loser.”
“Except Heather’s plus-one is Sammie, and Walker didn’t bring anyone.”
“Other than his bad attitude,” she muttered.
“Yeah, see, you keep saying that, but the only one with a bad attitude that I’ve seen is you.” That he said this in a calm, quiet, even gentle tone saved his life. “Talk to me, Maze.”
Stay open. That had been Caitlin’s request, and she’d asked so little of Maze and yet given so much. “He . . . hurt me,” she said.
Jace’s eyes went dark and dangerous. “He put his hands on you?”
“No. No,” she repeated when he remained tense. “He would never. Look, it was all a very long time ago and it’s a long story.”
“I’m listening.”
She blew out a sigh. “You know I grew up in foster homes.”
“Because your dad left before you were born and your mom was fond of assholes.”
She blinked in surprise.
“Heather and I were talking about how all of you met when you were fostered by Caitlin’s parents, after each suffering some pretty shitty childhoods.”
“What else did she tell you?”
“Nothing. Just that you’re all bonded for life, but she was sparse on the details of why.”
She let out a rough breath, because she did her best to never think about that year she’d spent in the Walsh home, but she’d let herself fall into those memories while here because some of them were the best of her entire life. But not the story she was going to tell Jace now. “Caitlin’s parents were really great,” she started. “Heather, Caitlin, Michael—Cat’s younger brother—and Walker and I got really close that year. Their home wasn’t too far from here, actually. It was in town. The problem was . . .” She closed her eyes. “Me,” she admitted. “I was fifteen and wild and impulsive. I rebelled against the rules, because . . . well, I don’t know why really, probably because I had an issue with authority and also was an angry punk ass. And that’s what started the whole thing.”
“What thing?”
“A carnival came to Wildstone,” she said. “Caitlin’s parents took us during the day, but we had to leave at dark. I wanted to go back later that night and see all the lights, but that wasn’t allowed. Shelly and Jim gave us a lot of freedom, but they still had rules and I thought a lot of them were dumb.” She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “So Mayhem Maze came up with the brilliant idea of sneaking out that night. Just me and Caitlin and Walker. We’d done it a few times before, so I thought no big deal. We didn’t tell Heather or Michael—they were too young to go. The deal was we’d meet in the basement and climb out one of the windows, walk the two miles to the carnival, and have a great time.”
“I take it that didn’t happen,” Jace said.
She shook her head. “Caitlin didn’t want to go. She didn’t like to break the rules. So it was a cluster from the start, and it only got worse when Heather showed up in the basement. She loved to eavesdrop and then tattle, but on that night her tactic had been to blackmail us.” She managed a rough laugh. “She promised she’d keep our secret if we took her along.”
He smiled. “So she was smart, even back then.”
“Oh yeah,” Maze said with a laugh. “And adorable. Irresistible, really. Still is, though she will no longer keep anyone’s secret.”
Jace smiled and Maze cocked her head.
“Wait. What was that?”
“What?”
“That look in your eye,” she said. “That’s the look you get when you like someone. The last time I saw it on you was right before you started dating that cute blond beverage distributor. Daisy, right?”
“There’s no look,” he said.
“There’s totally a look, Jace.”
A muscle in his jaw clenched, and then he nodded. “Okay, maybe there’s a look. But it’s not going anywhere. Clearly.”
Because he was still her “boyfriend.” More guilt slashed through her. “Jace—”
“This isn’t about me. Heather promised not to tell. So what happened?”
Maze sighed. “I turned on a little portable heater to warm the basement while we were all arguing. Millie, the Walsh’s dog, always followed us everywhere. She’d come down the stairs after Heather. Her tail knocked over the heater and the rug caught on fire. The whole house was engulfed in flames in like five minutes. It was an inferno.”
“Jesus. Were you hurt?”
She gave a bitter laugh. “No. Not even a little. Caitlin, Heather, Walker, Millie, and I all got out through the high, narrow basement window.” Suddenly there was a huge lump in her throat—pure grief and survivor’s guilt. She couldn’t swallow past it. “Caitlin and Michael’s parents were gone for the evening and already out of the house. We were standing on the grass staring in horror at the fire when I realized Walker was running back inside. To get Michael.” She shook her head. “The firefighters arrived and had to drag him out—he wouldn’t go without Michael. But he’d hit his head and had a concussion, plus smoke inhalation and some second- and third-degree burns.”
“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?