Scene 12

"Bloody scorcher!"

Kyle dropped into the folding chair, his long legs upsetting the beers littered across the table. "Whose brilliant idea was it to race in Sydney in December?"

There were a few murmurs of agreement from surrounding athletes, but Dillon—directly across from him—offered no acknowledgment. She knew the comment was intended for her. He was testing the waters, gauging her mood.

He took a long draught of his beer. "I'm positively melting!"

Dillon finally broke her silence. "Is that your excuse, then? The heat?"

Kyle met her glare. There was no possibility he hadn't known this was coming. His performance in the mixed relay had been farcical. Not only had he been bested by every other male competitor on the field, he'd somehow managed to come in twenty seconds slower than Dillon. A feat which—as a woman, up against the superior strength of a man—shouldn't even have been possible at this elite level.

There was no excuse. He'd cost Team GB the win.

"We were second, Sinc. By less than 15 seconds. It's not the end of the world."

" Your fifteen seconds."

Harry Boyles and Georgina Potter, the other two members of their team, remained silent. Both competitors were younger and knew better than to get in the middle of an argument between them.

"You were fine with second yesterday," Kyle challenged, referring to Dillon's results in the individual women's competition. Alecia Finch had arrived in Sydney intent on retaliation. After her loss in Key West, she'd laid out a textbook performance, and no matter how hard Dillon pushed, she'd been unable to catch her.

She considered telling him to fuck himself. He knew damn well she wasn't 'fine' with a silver podium finish. But what was the point? Kyle was Kyle, and no matter what she said, it wouldn't change the placings.

Seeking a truce, she reached across the table and dipped her finger in his beer, flicking foam in his direction. "Just stop whinging about the heat, will you?" She uncapped her water and brushed a trickle of sweat off her brow. It was hot. But she'd be damned before she complained about it.

"Incoming." Georgina gave a nearly imperceptible nod, just in time for the pinched voice of Isaac Fortin to ring over Dillon's shoulder.

"Tough luck today, eh?"

Dillon's grip tightened on her water bottle. It was bad enough to run into the vapid prick after a win in Florida. The last thing she wanted to do was listen to him gloat after their loss.

"Can't win them all, though, right?" The Canadian swept a glance around the table, before fixing his gaze on Kyle, seemingly oblivious to his unwelcome intrusion. "How are you holding up, Wood? Can't imagine how I'd feel, losing to a woman." His eyes flicked to Dillon. "Though, I suppose, in the case of Sinclair, I'm using the term loosely." He laughed, pretending to soften the jab with a wink. "She might just be the manliest member of your team."

Before Dillon could tell him to get stuffed, Harry was on his feet.

"How about you jog on, old man?" He crossed his heavily inked arms. Despite being the youngest member of their team, there was little doubt the twenty-year-old London boy could hold his own on the streets.

Isaac was unperturbed. "Cute, Sinclair—traded in your American fangirl for an English bulldog?" He brushed a flippant hand in Harry's direction. "Easy, pup. All in good fun. Don't get your shorts in a knot. See you all in Bermuda, eh?" Touching his brow in a mock salute, he walked away.

"God, I can't stand that bastard." Harry dropped back into his seat.

"Oh, cut him some slack," said Georgina, who'd been silent through the exchange. "It's not like he can go sit with his wife." She winked at Dillon. "She's probably still on the course."

Dillon would have laughed, but already she could feel Kyle's skeptical stare drilling into her, his attention long drifted from the meddling Canadian.

"Hold up a minute—American fangirl?"

Fucking Isaac Fortin . Of all the people she had to run into in Key West…

Dillon crushed the plastic bottle and screwed the cap back on. "No clue."

"Lies." Kyle drummed his fingers against his knee. "You're seeing someone—"

"I called it, didn't I?!" Jubilant, and returned to his boyish self, Harry pounded a fist on the table. "I told you both—she's been too bloody pleasant this whole trip. Texting. Smiling at her phone when she thinks no one's looking."

Georgina rolled her eyes. "Thank God someone on Tinder finally swiped right."

"Back to the American part." Kyle narrowed his eyes. "What was he talking about?"

For the last week they'd been in Sydney, Dillon knew he'd grown suspicious. Perking up at her phone calls. Trying to glance over her shoulder while she texted. Typical Kyle, unable to mind his own business.

"I ran into him in Key West while I was at dinner with a friend." She knew he'd never let her off that easy, but had to try.

"Who?"

"You're not her bloody keeper, Kyle, Jesus." Georgina rolled her eyes. "Tell him to piss off, Sinc."

"It's that girl from Hawaii, isn't it?" He barked a laugh. "You're unbelievable! Sam said you hooked up with her after——"

"—fucking Sam!" Of course she couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"Wait—the girl who hit you on your bike?" Now even Georgina wasn't on her side. "You ran into her in Florida?"

"She happened to be there on business. We got dinner. End of story."

"Bollocks." Kyle crossed his arms. "Let's hear the rest of it."

"There's nothing else to tell." And there wasn't, really. They'd had dinner. Well, two dinners. Two breakfasts. Lunches. Sunsets. Sunrises. Forty-eight of the best hours she could remember. They'd hardly shared a kiss between them, but it didn't even matter. By the time Kam left for Los Angeles, Dillon was wholly besotted.

"She's bloody why you're going to California, isn't she?" Kyle nearly tipped over his beer in his epiphany. "I couldn't understand it—traveling over Christmas—when you're always so dead set on being home with Seren and your mum in Wales! But it's her , isn't it?"

"Kyle, simmer." Georgina swatted him, aware his outburst had brought the attention of other tables. "Sinc's a big girl—she can do as she pleases."

He ignored her. "You're the only human on the planet who could get hit by a car and end up on a date with the driver. I don't even get it."

"Photo, mate." Harry knocked his knuckles on the table. "Let's see the girl. Judge if she's worth it."

"I don't have one." It was a lie. Dillon had several. One from the aquarium. One the following morning after her swim, when Kam surprised her by wading out to join her in her street clothes. And one on the sidewalk outside the airport, where Kam had snagged her phone, pressed her cheek to Dillon's, and taken a selfie.

"Something to remember you by when you're famous one day?" Dillon had teased, secretly chuffed to have the picture.

Kameryn had shaken her head. "A souvenir in the hopes you won't forget me."

Impossible .

And a week later, Dillon had booked a charity race in Santa Monica over the Christmas holiday.

"She's an actress," Kyle was saying, scrolling through his phone. "We can find a photo. Sam said her last name was something like Kingsford…"

"Kyle, I swear—" Dillon looked to Georgina for help. "Georgie—"

The girl shook her head. "Sorry, Sinc. Mates judge dates. It's our duty."

With no help from Dillon, the trio managed to pull up a photo of one of Kameryn's headshots on IMDb. She looked a couple years younger, her hair a little shorter, but Kameryn all the same.

"Who the hell names their kid Kameryn E. Kingsbury? Makes her sound like she came from a line of long dead members of parliament." Kyle scrolled the page while the other two looked over his shoulder.

"I'll concede—she's hot." Harry shot Dillon a thumbs up, to which she returned the finger. He grinned. "I swear, in my next life, I'm going to be a lesbian. I don't know how you land the women you do, Sinc. Kelsey Evans. That one proper fit ting on the German team. This girl," he flicked a finger at Kyle's screen. "What the hell do you have, that I don't?"

"Charm," Georgina cut in, "manners, humor, good hygiene—"

"Whose side are you on? The two of you might as well bloody date—"

"Don't give them any ideas," Kyle sipped his beer. "He's got a point, though. It's not right, the girls you date—"

"To be clear: we aren't dating. I hardly know her."

"Right. Because you fly halfway across the globe for every lass that knocks you off your feet." He winked. "Pun intended."

"Look at this!" Harry's voice rose an octave in his excitement. "She was the voice of Relay in Dragon Kingdom II ! My sister loves that movie."

Kyle wagged his eyebrows. "You struck gold, Sinc. Your Hollywood superstar was the voice of a polka-dotted dragon in a kid's cartoon. Big winner, there. Hope you're the one paying for dinner. I doubt those royalties will buy dessert."

"If you'd run a little faster this morning, I may have been able to afford it," Dillon shot back, but she couldn't hide her smile. Even Kyle's petty jealousy—or their second-place loss—couldn't put her in a bad mood.