Page 196 of Vegas Heat

My brows knit together. “GregHansen?”

Mia and Dylan both nod at the same time.

“He found his girl-gamer?” I ask.

They both laugh. “Turns out Chelsea has a secret Minecraft thing. They’re all into freaky shit with their games. They do naked competitions, and he even got her a gaming chair that fits right next to his in his room,” Mia says.

I whistle. “Just goes to show you there’s a match for everybody out there, right? Some people get lucky and find them at the right time.”

“So is Cooper your match?” Mia presses, snuggling closer into Dylan as if to tell me not in so many words that Dylan is hers.

I nod. “I know the season will change the dynamic, but yeah. He’s definitely my other half.”

“But he’s so…” Mia trails off.

“Hot?” I fill in.

She nods, conceding, but she adds, “Old.”

“He’s notold. He’s thirty-three.” My tone is far more defensive that I mean for it to be, but thirty-three isn’t old.

“Exactly. He’s three years away from retirement, and you haven’t even graduated college. Don’t you think that difference will cause problems?” Mia asks.

I know she’s just trying to be a good friend, but this is all the same shit we’ve been over a million times, and frankly, I’m tired of defending it. “No, I don’t.”

She presses her lips together and nods. “Okay. I hope you really, really believe that and you’re ready to defend it to the media since you know that’s what’s coming.”

Maybe she’s right, but I can’t take it anymore. I’m sure it’ll be far worse when it’s not my best friend asking once the media gets wind of it, but she’s supposed to be mybest friend.

She’s so busy being wrapped up in Dylan that she hasn’t been much of a friendat allto me lately.

“I don’t need to defend it to anyone,” I snarl, standing up. “You’re supposed to be my friend, and instead all you’ve done lately is pick at my relationship. You’re looking for holes rather than standing by me. And frankly, I’m sick of it.”

With those words, I whirl around and storm out of her apartment. I practically run to my car, and I slide into the driver’s seat upset and angry as I head toward home.

It’s not any better once I arrive.

“Where were you all night?” my mother demands the moment I walk in through the front door, as if she sat up waiting for me to come home.

“Out,” I answer flippantly, a large part of me regretting leaving Cooper’s house as early as I did. He and my dad are meeting for brunch in a bit, though, so I had to leave.

She stands from her spot on the couch and folds her arms across her chest. I walk past her and into the kitchen.

“You kept me up all night with worry!”

I blow out a breath as I reach into the pantry for a box of Honey Nut Cheerios. “I’m twenty-one years old, Mother, and I live in a different state than you. I no longer have to answer to you.”

“I’m your mother and you willalwayshave to answer to me, darling.” Her words are riddled with impatience, as if I’m the problem here.

“I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree on that front.” I hold up the box as if to offer to make her a bowl, too, and she shakes her head.

“That stuff is full of sugar,” she scolds, and I remember how weneverhad any good cereal in the house growing up. My options were usually either dry wheat cereal or plain yogurt, neither of which appealed to me.

I want to ask how long she’ll be hanging around, but I hold myself back. Barely. “Is Dad home?” I ask instead.

She shakes her head. “You two left me all alone in this big old house all night,” she whines.

“I hadn’t realized you came here so we could entertain you,” I say dryly as I reach into the fridge for the milk. “I hate to be the one to break this to you, but we both have lives here in Vegas that don’t revolve around you.” I mentally pat myself on the back for standing up to her, but she isn’t having it today.

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