Tempting Her Best Friend(45)

Alyssa pointed to the dance floor and he gasped. “Oh my God, what a nightmare. It’s like Night of the Dancing Dead down there.” That actually did make her giggle. They did move rather zombie-ish in their attempts to look prim and proper. “I told Patricia to go with a DJ or an indie band, but did she listen?”

“Speak of the devil,” Alyssa said with a nod in the direction of the table holding the immense punch bowl. Patricia Plimpton, romance royalty and hostess of the yearly convention, wore an elegant light blue, floor-length gown adorned with sequins. Although she wore a matching half mask, she was recognizable by her impeccable posture and silvery hair pulled into her signature French roll. It was hard to tell from so far away, but it appeared that she’d taken a flask out of her silver clutch before discreetly tucking it under her wrap.

“What is she up to now?” Trent wondered aloud. “I swear that woman is a few olives short of a perfect martini these last couple years.”

“You may be right,” she said, returning her attention to the entertaining dancers, “but regular music wouldn’t be nearly as memorable. If Dillon were here, that’s where we’d be. On the dance floor, trying to mimic the moves we’ve seen in movies or just making things up as we go. We’d try to keep our faces serious, but it would only work a few seconds at a time before we busted out laughing.”

“Huh,” he grunted thoughtfully. “Sounds like you’ve had some experience.”

“We have.” Alyssa faced him, leaning her shoulder against the cool glass. “I was his ‘plus one’ at his college buddy’s wedding and his bride came from this rich, pretentious family that made the entire event into a spectacle.” She laughed as she remembered Dillon spinning her into the table holding the gaudy ice sculpture. “Let’s just say her parents weren’t impressed with our attempts at ballroom dancing.”

“Please tell me there’s a video on YouTube.” He cursed when she shook her head. “So what happened?”

“Actually, the mother had had a few too many by that point and she lit into me pretty bad. I was mortified and ready to leave, per her suggestion, but Dillon came to my rescue. He not so tactfully pointed out that if she hadn’t spent so much money on an ugly ice sculpture, she could have afforded a decent band to begin with.”

“No, he didn’t.”

She was full out laughing now. It’d been so long since she’d thought about that day. “Oh, yes, he did. Then he told her that under no circumstances were we leaving until we ballroom danced our asses off, drank our weight at the open bar, and found suitable foster homes for her poor poodles.”

Trent’s jaw had gone slack, clearly astonished by her story. “What was wrong with her poodles?”

“She owned two standard poodles—both male, mind you—and dyed them bright pink to match the bridesmaid dresses. As if the rhinestone bowtie collars and grooming them to look like fancy shrubbery wasn’t bad enough.”

“Ew. Tacky much?”

“I agree. I believe Dillon called it animal abuse. Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me back onto the dance floor for one last song—just on principle, he said—before we headed to the desserts and fed the poodles tiramisu and champagne under the table.” She winced from a tinge of guilt. “Which may or may not have caused them to vomit in the koi pond.”

“Holy Hannah, you need to submit that to a bridal magazine. Or Vogue. Or Cosmo. Some-goddamn-where. Sweetie, that is the most epic of tales in the history of epic tales.”

She chuckled, helpless not to adore Trent in all of his idiosyncratic charm. “It is pretty great.”

“Your Dillon sounds like a regular knight in shining armor.”

Alyssa’s smile faded. She turned her face and leaned her forehead on the window, seemingly watching the spectacle below, but only seeing Dillon in her mind’s eye with his lopsided grin and perceptive gaze. “He really is. Always has been, actually. If there’s one thing I could always count on in my life, it was that Dillon would always be there for me. He protected me when he could and comforted me when he couldn’t.” Tears started clogging her throat and welling in her eyes. “He never told me, but I think it killed him that he couldn’t spare me from getting hurt every time my father left. As I got older, I tried not to let it show—I figured there was no point in letting my father affect both of us—but Dillon always knew, and he always stayed with me until I evened out.”

When Trent spoke again, it was quiet and tentative. “So how many times did Dillon hurt you?”