Snapshot

by Kay Cove

“Dex, if you want your friends to help, all you have to do is ask.” “Well, I’m asking now.” I raise my brows. “For another hug?” I’m game for another. Only one more moment, though, because any more time spent in fantasy land and I might accidentally get stuck. “No, something a little more involved than a hug. A job.” Dex holds up his hands like he’s telling me to halt, but I haven’t moved a muscle. “What if I offered you a job for just one year that would set you up for the rest of your life? You’d never have to work or worry about money again. Your kids would never have to worry about money again.” His cool, casual demeanor makes me wonder if he’s not exaggerating. Pretending like his cryptic offer is for real, I answer with the first thing that comes to mind. “I mean, provided I don’t have to take my clothes off or put anything in my mouth, I’d say that sounds pretty damn good. What are you suggesting?” He smirks at me with a touch of humor relaxing his tense brows. “As long as you don’t have to put anything in your mouth?” “We live in Vegas. Don’t act like that’s a weird thing to be worried about.” “Fair enough. But no—nothing like that. My grandma…” He exhales. “How do I sum this up as quickly as possible?” “I don’t mind a story.” His lips twitch into a half-hearted smile. “I’m not a good storyteller.” That’s a lie. Dex’s scuba diving stories are legendary. “Fine. What about your grandma?” His sigh is heavy like he’s reluctant to talk about the conversation he brought ...