Deadly Sting by Jennifer Estep

at her.
    That left me standing alone with Finn. Somehow, while I’d been talking to Roslyn, he’d managed to snag a whole tray of hors d’oeuvres from one of the female waiters. In addition to the deep-fried macaroni, he was also scarfing down baked phyllo cups stuffed with creamy gourmet chicken-apple salad, pineapple boats piled high with a light, airy mixture of cream cheese and toasted slivered almonds, and mini fruit tarts topped with fresh blackberries, raspberries, and strawberries.
    “You should make these mac-and-cheese things at the restaurant,” Finn said, popping another one into his mouth. “Because they are absolutely divine .”
    I grabbed one off the tray and bit into it. The crust was crispy, buttery, and golden brown, while the inside was the perfect temperature—not too hot to burn your tongue but warm enough that the sharp cheddar cheese still melted in your mouth.
    “Not bad,” I said after I’d finished it. “But they could use some more cheese and a bit of spicy kick in the filling. A dash or two of cayenne pepper or maybe even a sprinkle of cumin to give it some smoky heat.”
    Finn huffed. “Well, I think they’re pretty good just the way they are. If you’re going to criticize, then I’m eating the rest of them.”
    “Knock yourself out.”
    One by one, Finn devoured every single thing on the tray. When it was empty, he looked mournfully at the crumbs on the smooth silver surface, his mouth turning down into a pout. Then a waiter passed by with another tray of champagne, and Finn perked right back up. He bowed and gallantly handed the empty tray to the waiter in exchange for a glass of bubbly.
    “Now, on to more important matters,” Finn said, after his thirst had been quenched. He stabbed his finger in Owen’s direction. “Sandy and Samantha are going to hear all about this little fashion faux pas.”
    I frowned. “What do you mean? Who are you talking about?”
    “The two saleswomen at the Posh boutique. Sandy was the blonde, Samantha was the redhead,” Finn said. “Don’t you remember?”
    I shook my head. I hadn’t bothered to get their names. I figured saving them from the robber was good enough.
    “Well, they assured me that your dress was an original, an absolute one-of-a-kind. In fact, they swore up one side and down the other that you were the only person to ever even try it on, so I happily let you pay their outrageous price for it.”
    “How noble of you.”
    Finn pretended not to hear my snide words and went right on with his rant. “But now here’s some other sweet young thing wearing your dress at the biggest event of the summer. And not just any other woman but the one who came waltzing in on Owen’s arm.” He fumed for a moment. “Oh, yes, Sandy and Samantha are going to be getting a very harsh phone call from me Monday morning.”
    “It’s just a dress. So another woman has on the same one. So what?”
    His mouth dropped open, and he looked at me in horror. “Please tell me that those words did not just come out of your mouth. It is not just a dress—it is your dress. At least, I thought it was. Sandy and Samantha assured me that it was. They are going to be very, very sorry they misled me.”
    Finn went on a tear then, pacing back and forth, gesturing wildly with his champagne glass, and talking all about how he was going to take his fashion wrath out on the two saleswomen for daring to sell my dress to another woman.
    I just sighed and listened to him rant. No matter how long I knew him, I didn’t think that I would ever fully figure out or understand the inner workings of the mercurial mind of Finnegan Lane.
    * * *
    Finn eventually wound down, and the two of us strolled around the rotunda, but I couldn’t concentrate on the showcase of Mab’s loot. Two things were on my mind: how I could come back later and steal my family’s runes, and Owen and Jillian.
    The first one wouldn’t be too much of a problem. Other than the plethora of giant