Page 44

Tonight, of all nights, her mind had no right to take her places it didn’t belong.

“Lobster roll?”

She turned, surprised to find she was no longer alone.

A young man leaned against the railing beside her. The cuffs of his dress shirt were rolled back, the top button at his collar undone. It wasn’t, however, the pseudo-slum style of distressed dress she’d observed on Dani Hallwell’s little brother and his mates. This boy wasn’t wearing £1000 loafers or designer jeans with scuffs fashioned into his knees. His oxfords were well-worn. His trousers crisp, but the cut untailored. Something off the rack from a department store.

Observations courtesy of her sister, Seren’s, fashion degree.

Whoever this boy was, he wasn’t part of the “elite.”

He held out a plate. There was a top-split bun overflowing with lobster meat beside a cup of melted butter.

“My eyes were bigger than my stomach. And as much as I’d enjoy tossing forty bucks worth of Hallwell seafood over the balcony to the birds, I don’t think I can get away with it.” He flashed dark eyes side to side, his lips curling into a conspiratory grin. “Cameras everywhere. I’d never hear the end of it.”

He was handsome. Handsome in that way girls who liked tan, fit, five-o-clock-shadowed kind of boys would be driven wild.

“Not really my thing,” she said, eyeing the secondhand sandwich.

“Haven’t touched it, I swear.”

Dillon laughed. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing. The first two were—” he circled his thumb to his forefinger, touching his hand to his lips in a chef’s kiss.

“Best make room for a third, then.”

“Well, it was worth a try.” He resumed his casual stance against the railing, plucking a strip of lobster off the sandwich and popping it into his mouth. “So, I take it you’re not from around here?”

“I can’t imagine what gave you that idea,” Dillon rolled her eyes but didn’t turn away. He didn’t seem like a prick. Nothing like the other guests strolling around with their judgmental gazes and affected cavalier style.

“Well, if I commented on your very non-California accent, I’d feel incredibly cliché. So I’m going to go with…” he stepped back, taking a head-to-toe assessment, before nodding with conviction. “Your smell.”

Dillon shot him a dubious glance. “I’m sorry?”

“Or, lack thereof.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“You don’t smell like bullshit.” He gesticulated around them. “Like the rest of this crowd.”

“I see.” She was careful to maintain her neutrality, not one to put her foot in her mouth on a whim. “Yet here we both are, at their invitation.”

“Well, not exactly.” He toyed with another piece of lobster. “I was a last-minute add-on—Darlene’s going to pop an artery when she finds out—and you, it sounds like, were something of aplus onethey weren’t expecting.” He cringed. “I’m sorry, that didn’t come out like I meant it. What I’m trying to say is, on my way to raid the appetizer tables, I overheard Darlene ranting to Dani about her ‘seating diagram’. Then when I came across you out here, it wasn’t too hard to put two-and-two together and guess who she was referring to.” His lips disappeared into a single line. “At the risk of digging this hole deeper, all I’m getting at is—I thought you might need a friend.” He finally quit his rambling.

It should, she knew, have probably offended her, being told she was an unwelcome guest, knowing she was a topic of hole-and-corner discussion. But he was so appalled at his own lack of grace, it was hard to find herself indignant. Besides, it was exactly what she’d expected of arriving unannounced with Kameryn.

“And you felt a good consolation prize was a hand-me-down seafood sandwich?”

“No! Honestly, I—” he paused, realizing she was teasing, and offered her a broadening smile of pronounced relief. “I just know how it can feel here, sometimes. That’s all.”

Behind them a bell sounded from inside the house, ringing sharply through the double glass doors opening onto the balcony.

“The cocktail bell,” he whispered with exaggerated mock propriety, glancing at his watch. “Seven PM on the dot. Summoned like a herd of cattle.” He motioned toward the house. “Join me for a drink? It makes the night more tolerable.”

“I should probably find my friend,” said Dillon, following him through the door. She’d kept an eye through the glass, surveying the faces waltzing by, but Kam hadn’t been amongst any of them. A good sign, she hoped, that perhaps her reconciliation with her parents had been successful. That, or she was about to find her crying in a bathroom.

“Oh, Mr. Hayes!” Darlene Hallwell’s piercing voice accosted them as they passed through the unfriendly setting of the formal sitting room. Half a dozen men lounged around a flatscreen showing the reruns of an American football game, while other guests filtered in from adjacent hallways. “I was unaware you were joining us.”