“We’re almost ready to get under way,” Dillon said, coming up next to him. “Where’ve you been?” “In my cabin.” “All this time?” “I had to unpack.” “All this time?” Clint looked at Dillon. “I like my cabin.” “That’s good to hear,” Dillon said. “When is this celebration supposed to take place?” Clint asked. “About a half hour after we disembark,” Dillon said. “In the main salon and outside on this deck.” Disembark. Clint wasn’t sure Dillon had used that word correctly. “Okay,” Clint said. “I’ll be there.” “Unless you get . . . distracted again,” Dillon said, with a grin. “You got something you want to ask me?” Clint said. “I already asked, and you told me you were unpacking,” Dillon said. “I guess Ava was unpacking all that time, too.” As Dillon walked away, Clint was satisfied that the man thought he’d been with Ava. He still wasn’t sure what Dillon’s relationship with Angela was. He was going to have to ask her.
