The Wedding Party And Holiday Escapes Ultimate Collection. Кейт Хьюит

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      “And what is it exactly that I’m running from?” she asked. She even managed to keep her voice steady and vaguely disinterested.

      The deep baritone of laughter that followed rubbed across every one of her nerve endings until they felt raw and exposed.

      He knew. He knew exactly what that kiss had done to her, and he would spend the rest of the week rubbing it in her face.

      Would this nightmare never end?

      She was about to turn, to face Dillon, still unsure of exactly what she wanted to do or say—and resigned to the fact that whatever it was it would probably only make things worse—when she spotted Deidre and Blake walking down the opposite side of the street like two angels of mercy.

      “Deidre!” she called, waving frantically to get her attention. The instant Deidre looked her way Ivy knew something was wrong. Her skin looked pale, and the way she leaned into Blake gave the distinct impression he was holding her steady.

      Forgetting Dillon and every other horrible thing that transpired that morning, she rushed across the street to her cousin. As she drew closer she noticed the bandage on Deidre’s forehead.

      Her grotesquely swelled forehead.

      Ivy’s horror and surprise must have shown, because the first thing out of Deidre’s mouth was, “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

      “Let me see.” Without waiting for permission, she lifted Deidre’s bangs to get a better look. The area over her left eye looked swollen and tender, and hints of purple peeked out from under the edge of the bandage. “Oh, my God, what happened to you?”

      “An alleged golfing mishap,” Blake said bitterly.

      Deidre ducked away from Ivy and shot him a look.

      “It was an accident. And the doctor at the clinic said the swelling should be down in time for the wedding.”

      “You had to see a doctor?”

      Deidre nodded. “I needed three stitches.”

      Why did it have to happen this week? It was just one more thing to put a damper on the most important day of Deidre’s life.

      “Who did this to you?” Dillon asked, and Ivy jolted at the sound of his voice. She hadn’t even realized he’d followed her.

      “Dale’s girlfriend,” Blake all but spat out. “She swung her club and lost her grip. It went flying and pegged Deidre in the head.”

      “But it was an accident,” Deidre said with a forced cheeriness that wasn’t fooling anyone. “Believe me, her aim is not that good. She can barely hit a ball much less a person standing fifteen feet behind her.”

      Dillon looked from Deidre to Blake. “Which one is Dale’s girlfriend? Tweedle Dum or Tweedle Dee?”

      Blake shrugged. “Who knows. I can’t tell them apart. When it happened, I was more concerned with stopping the bleeding than figuring out who was at fault.”

      The only thing concerning Ivy was Deidre’s pasty-white pallor and the dark circles under her eyes. The way she clung to Blake’s arm, as though without him there she might topple over.

      Dillon’s eyes mirrored Ivy’s concern. “May be you should go back to the villa and lay down for a while.”

      “No! I refuse to spend the week of my wedding in bed feeling sorry for myself.” Deidre sounded awfully close to tears, and Ivy had the distinct feeling there was more to this than she was admitting. “I don’t want to talk about my head anymore.”

      Blake looked curiously between Ivy and Dillon. “So, what are you guys up to?”

      What he really meant was, what were they doing together.

      “We were shopping and we bumped into each other,” Ivy said, shooting Dillon a look that said she knew damn well their meeting had been no accident. And if he said one word about what had happened, he would die a very slow, agonizing death.

      He just smiled. “That’s right, and I was just about to invite Ivy to lunch.”

      “Perfect!” Deidre gushed, perking up instantly. “We were looking for somewhere to eat.” She wove an arm through Ivy’s and clamped down. Hard. “We can all eat together.”

      The death grip on Ivy’s arm said very clearly that this was not a matter of choice. Ivy was going, even if Deidre had to drag her there.

      Seeing there was no way to get out of this without making a scene, and making matters worse in the process, Ivy plastered a smile on her face and said, “Great. Let’s eat.”

      The second they were shown to a table inside the bustling, noisy café, Deidre said something about needing to freshen up, then dragged Ivy with her to the ladies’ room. Her grip on Ivy’s arm was so tight she was cutting off the circulation. When they were safely inside with the door shut Deidre finally let go.

      Ivy shook the blood back into her tingling fingers. “All right, what’s going on?”

      “I hate them,” Deidre spat with a ferocity that was completely unlike her. Angry tears pooled in her eyes.

      “I hate the Tweedles and I hate Blake’s brothers.”

      Deidre didn’t hate anybody. She was too sweet. But apparently even she had limits.

      “What happened?”

      “After I got hit, Blake went to go get the rental car. While he was gone, the four of them were—” Her voice broke and tears dribbled down her cheeks.

      Ivy rubbed her shoulder. “They were what? What did they do?”

      Deidre sniffled loudly and wiped the tears away with the heels of her palms. “They were…making fun of me. They were whispering and laughing.”

      Was it possible that they could be that rude? That cruel? “Could you hear what they were saying? I mean, May be you misunderstood. May be they weren’t talking about you.” As she said the words she suspected they weren’t true.

      “They were looking right at me, and I heard Dale say it was my own fault for standing too close while she putted.”

      No, this was Ivy’s fault. She had been afraid that antagonizing the Tweedles at dinner last night would only make things worse. That they might retaliate. She never should have lowered herself to their level.

      And who had encouraged her to do that?

      Dillon.

      It didn’t excuse her behavior. Or make her any less accountable, but in a roundabout way this was as much his fault as hers.

      The thought made her feel a little bit better.

      “Does Blake know about what they said?”

      She sniffled and shook her head. “He already feels so bad. This would only make things worse.”

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