Page 149 of The Unfinished Line

“Aren’t you an accomplished culinarian, Dillon?” he said now, spearing a prawn off the table. ”I think Kam mentioned that.”

“I don’t know about accomplished, but I know my way around a kitchen.”

“I’m curious,” he darted a glance toward Dani, before returning his attention to Dillon, “what’s your go-to for fondue? I’d always heard white wine or vodka.”

Dillon wasn’t thrilled to be dragged into the conversation. Dani’s distaste for her was evident; she’d been making digs at her all night. But out of respect for Kam, she’d ignored them. She knew the turbulent friendship was already on the rocks and had no wish to contribute to its downfall.

“Most recipes tend to call for a dry white, but I’m sure there’s a lot of room for variation.”

“At least we can all acknowledge the most important thing is alcohol,” snapped Dani.

Dillon should have let it go. The woman was a petulant socialite with less than two brain cells. But it was wearing, the way she glared at her for no reason. The way she felt she was an expert on everything.

“Not in this particular dish,” she muttered, closing the cutlery drawer.

Dani’s eyes flashed to her. “And how would you know?”

“Because I substituted apple cider.”

“Don’t break my heart and tell me you made all this, Dillon,” said Grady Dunn, arriving with a martini in hand. “I was hoping to beg Kam for the name of her caterer.”

“Now you know to refuse an invitation to Dunn’s poker game on Thursday nights,” Elliott teased. “He’ll be trying to trade you a buy-in for an appetizer.”

Dillon didn’t have the time to laugh before Dani had once again turned herself into the center of attention.

“Oh, my God!” She dramatically covered her mouth, staring at Dillon. “I wasn’t thinking when I mentioned the wine in the fondue. Of course, you would substitute.” She lowered her voice into a pseudo-whisper. “I forgot you were… well, you know, that you had a… um, drinking problem.” She cringed.

Blindsided by the comment, Dillon didn’t know what to say. The way Dani made it sound—that’s not how it had been. Had Kam really told her that?

“Are you an idiot?” Elliott hissed behind her back, his vehemence directed at Dani.

Dillon’s entire body tensed as she laid out the remainder of the cutlery. It wasn’t like her to find herself embarrassed. Who cared what the little bitch thought? But it was Elliott’s defense, and Grady’s sympathetic glance, that brought an unwelcome rush of heat to her cheeks.

“I don’t know where you heard that,” she said, managing to keep her voice indifferent, “but you’re mistaken. I skipped the wine becauseTrader Joe’s didn’t carry an unoaked chardonnay with high enough acidity to keep the gruyère from stringing together. So I chose a better alternative.” She turned, crossing the kitchen to the wet bar, her heart pounding an angry meter.

There was a bottle of Beluga Gold and dry vermouth sitting on the counter, left over from where she’d stirred Kam her favorite vodka martini.

“I don’t drink during race season because it makes it harder to recover.” She pulled a glass from the hanging rack. It wasn’t the entire truth, but it was none of anyone else’s business. She wasn’t willing to accept a label for something she hadn’t struggled with in many years.

So fuck Dani Hallwell for trying to humiliate her.

She uncorked the vodka. “But you know what, it’s Kam’s birthday—what better reason to make an exception?”

Dillon didn’t look up from stirring her third martini. She’d known Kam would seize the opportunity to interrogate her the moment she was alone, so it was no surprise when the familiar scent ofMiss Diorcut through the aroma of vermouth.

“Hey.” Fingertips brushed her elbow. “Is everything okay?”

“Cracking.” Dillon drew a paring knife through the rind of a lemon. “Never better.”

“Dillon.” In response to the sarcasm, Kam pressed her fingers firmly against her arm. “What’s going on?”

“Did you really tell her I was an alcoholic?” Dillon finally turned. Her gaze flicked to where Dani was standing on the threshold of the balcony, holding Grady’s wife hostage to anotherme-centered soliloquy. “Is that what you tell everyone?”

“What?” Stung, Kam dropped her hand. “I’ve never saidanythinglike that.” She lowered her voice, aware of the way her words carried across the open floor plan. “When she asked me what alcohol to bring, I told her you didn’t drink. That’s the only thing I said.”

“But apparently that’s what you think?”

It was a cheap shot. She knew it the moment she saw the hurt sweep across Kam’s face.

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