Her answer only confused me more. “Ezra is your brother?”
“Half-brother,” she clarified. “Mostly though he’s a pain in the ass.” She suddenly smiled wide, throwing her head back and laughing like a lunatic. When she righted herself again, she whispered, “Pretend like we’re having a really good time. If he thinks I’m sulking he’ll come over and make a big deal about it.”
My eyes sought him before I gave them official permission to do so. Sure enough, he was staring over at us, watching his sister intently. Belatedly, I loosed a smile and laughed at her non-existent joke.
She laughed again, only this time it seemed genuine. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m Dillon by the way. Ezra’s younger, wiser, more attractive sister.”
I smiled at her. “I’m Molly. Vera’s younger, wiser, more attractive best friend.”
We shared another laugh. Mine was louder than usual, fueled by stress and alcohol.
“You’re the mastermind behind tonight, aren’t you? Ezra said this was all you.”
I squinted at her, trying to decide if I’d heard her right. The dance music was loud, but not that loud. “Oh, you mean the party? Yeah, I guess it was. Ezra should really get the credit though. Or his florist, Meg. She did all the…” I waved in the general direction of some flowers. “Décor.”
Dillon snorted. “I figured. It has her flare.”
“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”
Dillon wrinkled her nose. “I was going to say it smells like a funeral home, but we can go with your answer. It’s nicer.”
I laughed again, instantly liking the pretty blonde that was nothing like her brother. They didn’t even look alike. It was hard to reconcile them as siblings, and my muddled thoughts questioned if maybe she was lying.
“Are you sure you’re Ezra’s sister?” I asked, speaking my mind before I could think better of it. “You’re so much more—”
“Pale?” she filled in.
“I was going to say pleasant.”
“Ha! Well, that too, I suppose.”
I looked back and forth between Dillon and Ezra again. He had dark hair and eyes, and olive skin. She really was paler. Her blonde hair just a few shades darker than her bright white dress, and her big blue eyes were inviting and sweet, unmarked by the heaviness in Ezra’s.
“You really don’t look anything alike though,” I heard myself say. “He’s so…” I trailed off before I could finish the sentence with stupid adjectives like hot, sexy or drool-worthy.
“He favors our dad,” she explained. “Where I’m like my mom. She was all Viking.”
“Sorry,” I added quickly, realizing belatedly that I was asking a perfect stranger bizarre questions about her sibling. I opened my mouth to ask another stupid question like how Ezra knew Meg, or how often does Meg do Ezra’s flowers, or is florist code for something else? Like hooker? But Dillon cut me off, saving us both from the disaster brewing inside my mouth.
“Oh, shit,” she mumbled. “He’s coming over here. If he asks, tell him we were discussing mature adult things like politics or nuclear physics. Or the weather.”
I didn’t have time to process her request before Ezra approached us. He went straight for his sister, pulling her into a brief hug. “Dillon,” he greeted in that way of his that wasn’t a greeting at all. . Never “hello” or “hi” or “hey girl.” Just first names and broody looks. “Glad you made it.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” she told him. “Killian’s family.”
“You’ll love Vera too,” he told her. “When they’re done dancing, I’ll introduce you.”
“I’ve already met the best friend,” Dillon nodded to me. “Molly’s been keeping me company.”
Realizing it was odd that Dillon knew who I was, I was slow to reply. “Politics,” I finally blurted. “We were just discussing politics.”
Ezra’s eyes narrowed on me, then dropped to the empty champagne flute in my hands. “Dillon is always discussing politics,” he confirmed. “When I’m not around that is.”
She gave him an innocent smile. “That’s because you’re such a know-it-all. I prefer people with open minds.”
“And you think that Molly is one of those people?”
“Hey!” I protested.
He reached forward and grabbed the glass from my hands, dropping it on a tray as a waiter walked by us. The move was so smooth and effortless my mouth unhinged and I bristled. I could have done that myself!
Or okay, I probably wouldn’t have noticed that waiter. He was moving too fast and he kind of blended in with everyone around him. But I would have caught the next one.
“Molly is one of those people,” Dillon insisted. “And she agrees with me about Meg’s design taste. You have to stop using her.”
Ezra’s shoulders lifted and dropped with an impatient sigh. “Don’t be petty,” he warned. “She did a fantastic job. Besides, this was very last minute. I didn’t give her much time.”
Dillon rolled her eyes. “Time has nothing to do with it. She’s over the top. I told you that last time. I don’t know why you don’t listen to me.”
Feeling out of place while the siblings bickered over flowers I took a small step to the side. “I’ll just… I’m going over... somewhere else.” I pointed across the room.
Ezra’s hand fell to my forearm, stilling me. “I’ll find you in a minute.”
“Why?” The question popped out of my mouth before I could think better of it.
His dark eyes turned to me and he gave me his full, undivided attention. I sucked in a sharp breath at the intensity in his look, the utter power barely restrained beneath his cool expression. He was all sleek lines tonight in a white dress shirt, tailored gray trousers and thin black tie. His hand on my arm was hot and firm, freezing me in place like it had magical powers.
“I’d like to talk to you,” he explained.
I struggled to swallow through the new lump in my throat. “About what?”
He lifted his hand from my arm and I scooted another step away from him. “I’ll find you,” he promised. Then he turned back to Dillon and I instantly felt dismissed.
Noting the exit locations I contemplated escaping, but in the end, I settled for dropping by one of the food stations. I hadn’t eaten anything yet and the alcohol was clearly catching up to me. Wyatt had done a spectacular job with the spread and I decided I should tell him that.
Chicken and waffle slider in one hand and a refilled champagne cocktail in the other, I made my way to the kitchen. I briefly remembered Ezra’s warning about setting foot in there the other night, but just as quickly dismissed it. He wasn’t technically open for business and so I wasn’t technically breaking his rules.
I found Wyatt in the center of his kitchen, king of his newly claimed kingdom, leaning over a tray of appetizers. He was all focus and serious vibes, meticulously inspecting them for any faults. Without lifting his head he yelled at someone behind him about double checking temperatures. His hands never wavered from where he worked to perfectly drizzle sauce on top of a skewered meatball.