grimace, her riddle was going to be figuring out how to turn whatever costume she had into a tie-in to her job. Dex couldn’t wait to find out what she’d ended up doing. He’d tried checking up on her a few times over the years, but he’d never had much luck. She didn’t even have a Facebook page. It baffled the mind.
“I’ll bet Candy Love is coming as some kind of super-woman. She’s just so perfect, isn’t she? I can’t wait to hear what she’s been up to,” said one of the redheads.
The look on Zoe’s face was priceless. If he remembered correctly, and when it came to Zoe he usually did, she’d hated Candice. With good reason. Like Brad and him, the two girls had gone head to head in all things academic, with Zoe walking away with the lion’s share of the winnings.
“I guess I’ll see you all later,” was all she said though. “It was a long flight and I’m a little tired. I might just skip the costume party and catch up with everyone tomorrow.”
“Oh, no,” chorused the ex-cheerleaders in perfect harmony. They all giggled, then one of the redheads said, “You have to come to the welcome bash. After all, Brad will be there.”
Zoe’s drooping shoulders straightened at that and she tapped her hip as though she was weighing her choices. Then she shrugged and said, “Sure. I’ll see you all there.” She shifted her purse and prepared to leave, then hesitated and said, “If you see Brad, tell him I’d like to talk to him, okay?”
She headed across the lobby away from the pillar Dex was hiding behind. Frowning, he watched the sway of her hips as she departed, not bothering to follow her.
Brad Young. Again.
Dex shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans with a silent growl. He’d be damned if he’d waste his last week of vacation watching the woman he’d come across the country to see fall all over some other guy. Especially not his old nemesis. Damned if he was going to spend the week taking a backseat in Zoe’s attention to that jerk the way he had all through school.
Not that he figured he had a claim on Zoe. Hell, it’d been ten years and he knew she’d never seen him as anything but a buddy. Sure, he’d had a few fantasies of changing her viewpoint, but they didn’t even know each other anymore. And the last thing he needed at this juncture of his life was to hook himself into a relationship. So no, no matter what his analytical brain tried to label it, this was not jealousy.
Brad Young was a dick. A class-A jerk who’d always been out for himself. Oh, sure, he’d always made it look like he was Mr. Friendly. Despite their scholastic competitions, he’d gone out of his way to make friends with Dex, had invited him to hang out. Only the hanging out was always at the Drake’s rec room and Dex was always the one footing the bill. When Dex had wised up and called him on it, Brad had denied that was why he’d kept him around. But when Dex’s wallet had closed, the invites had ended.
What really pissed Dex off, though, was that Brad had used Zoe. Things like getting her to write his papers, pretending to be her friend while mocking her behind her back. He’d even tagged her with the lousy moniker of longest-living virgin or something like that. All because he’d lost a bet with his football pals about getting down her pants at the drive-in.
Dex didn’t figure an asshole like that changed much over time. So it was up to him to protect his old friend. For all her tough shell, Zoe was sensitive. He’d have to make sure she wasn’t used or hurt this week.
Yeah. That was it. It was for her own good that he’d be doing his damndest to monopolize her time and keep her away from Brad. Definitely nothing to do with jealousy.
As he settled that lie in his head, the twins sauntered past, hips swaying as they whispered together. One of them caught sight of him and stopped, lifted a brow and gave him a long, slow once-over.
“Well, hello. Are you here for the reunion?” she asked in a throaty purr.
“Nah,” Dex said, a little unnerved to realize what the phrase eat him up with her eyes actually felt like. It made him want to put protective hands over his privates. “Wrong year.”
“Too bad. Maybe we can talk about new times instead of old, then,” she murmured before letting her sister tug her away.
Call him a wimp, but it was all he could do not to run.
“Dexter.”
And there was a voice that never inspired the urge to escape. With a reluctant grin, he turned to face the elderly woman.
“Nana, I thought you were fleecing Vegas of its riches,” he said as he bent in half to hug his tiny grandmother. The frailty under his hands was an illusion, he knew. Essie Drake was the strongest woman in the world.
“Vegas was rigged,” she said with a sniff. Still in her travel wear—a tracksuit of some fuzzy red fabric—her white hair in curls and her gold-rimmed bifocals, she should have looked like Mrs. Claus. Except she was too small, skinny and if Dex were honest, naughty, to be that sainted lady. Instead, Nana looked like a mischievous elf who’d put saltpeter in Santa’s cocoa and graffiti the sleigh.
She was his favorite person. His absolute champion. And the biggest pain in his butt. But any irritation was worth having her in his corner.
His parents had never understood his fascination with video games. They’d always figured it was a bad habit he’d outgrow. They’d been thrilled that he’d gone to college. Although his father said he’d only ponied up the funds for Dex’s college expenses so that his son could earn big money and support the family business after graduation. That those expenses had been trivial considering Dex had a full-ride scholarship didn’t negate the expectation in the slightest. No surprise that when, eight years ago, he’d decided to drop out of college and pursue his passion, his parents had thrown a fit.
But Nana? She’d cheered and urged him to strike out on his own. Her faith and encouragement supporting him, he’d combined graphic-design skills he’d learned in school, his computer obsession and the vivid imagination he’d always hidden for fear of being teased. The results, a highly successful career as a video-game designer. As a nod to his father’s worries—and his own self-consciousness at sharing his creative side—Dex had designed under a pseudonym, since his first game had featured—and mocked—the small Idaho town that his father’s ancestors had founded. Because of his discretion, and his Nana’s unwavering championship, his parents had eventually tolerated his career choice enough to let him come home for the holidays. The buckets of money he’d made hadn’t hurt either. Funny how money had a way of paving the way with people. All his life, the impression of money had opened doors. Friends, invitations, opportunities to hang with the in crowd.
Only Zoe hadn’t cared about what he had. She’d simply accepted him for himself, not for what she could get out of him. Which brought the number of people who did to a grand total of two. Zoe and Nana.
“Is your sweetie here yet?” his grandmother asked, looking around the lobby. “Did I miss her?”
“Is that why you’re back early? Another matchmaking game? Look, Nana, I don’t have a sweetie. I’m just here to help out Mom and Dad before I get too busy.”
Nana shook her head, a look of censure in her bright-blue eyes. “Dexter, I have the sight. I see you and your sweetheart hooking up soon.”
Dex’s jaw dropped. “Hooking up? Where do you come up with these things?”
He skipped right over the “sight” comment. Nana thought she was psychic. She claimed to have precognitive dreams and carried around a tarot deck. Much to his parents’ chagrin, she liked to set up a table in the hotel lobby and offer readings to gullible guests. Recently Nana had taken her dreams on the road, attempting to supplement her retirement income by hitting the jackpot. So far, she’d had three trips to Vegas and five to Reno, and the most she’d won was a huge stuffed monkey dressed like Liberace.
“Admit it, you’re here to find your one true love,” his grandmother nagged, tucking her hand around his arm so he could lead her