Page 15 of Her Devoted HERO

“I don’t know! God, I’m a basket case.” She looked at her empty glass. No help there.

To hell with it. She was who she was. Her mother called her a screwball, and she sure was earning her neurotic stripes. She pressed send, closed her laptop and headed up the stairs.

***

Dex had been disappointed when Poppy hadn’t immediately responded to his e-mail. Luckily there was more than enough to do to keep him occupied after being gone so long. But the first thing he did after starting the coffee the next morning, was to check his computer, and he did a fist pump.

This time it didn’t take him any time at all to come up with a reply. Dex pressed send and then picked up the phone to call his grandfather.

“It’s about time you called. I heard via the grapevine you got back yesterday.”

Dex shook his head. The old man was totally in the know. “You coming over tonight? Your grandmother misses you.”

“I was calling to see about making up that golf game we missed. We’ve got some down time coming to us. We can leave early today, but that would only give us time for nine holes.”

“You going to bring some of your buddies?”

“That was the plan.”

“Excellent. But my arthritis is acting up so I might need some extra strokes.”

“That’s bullshit. You just want to win money. I want to talk to Grandma Helen,” Dex demanded. He knew that his grandmother would tell him that his grandfather was just fine.

“She’s out in the backyard,” his grandfather immediately lied. At least, Dex was pretty damn sure it was a lie.

“See, it’s bullshit.” Dex loved his grandfather. The man was wily.

“I’ll set up a tee time. Is it for four?” Martin asked.

“I’m pretty sure, I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

He hung up the phone and smiled, then he called Hunter and Gray.

***

“Don’t hit the ball Son, swing through the ball.” Dex’s lips twitched when he heard his grandfather say those words to Hunter. How many times had he heard that exact same sentence throughout his adolescence?

Martin Evans threw another golf ball down on the grass. “Tee that up and try again. You’ll hit the green for sure this time.”

“I can’t hit another ball,” Hunter protested. He looked at Dex and Gray for assistance. They just grinned at their big friend.

“Suck it up and shoot again,” Dex told his friend.

“It’s called taking a Mulligan,” Martin explained. “You just start over, instead of trying to hit your other shot that went into the rough. Now this time don’t try to kill the ball, just swing through it. You have a natural swing. You’ll do great.”

Dex wasn’t surprised in the slightest when Hunter’s next ball went straight down the fairway and landed a few feet away from the green. Martin was a natural born teacher.

“Don’t get too cocky, you’re still going to end up buying the beer tonight,” Gray warned him.

“Nonsense. We agreed, Hunter and I would partner against the two of you,” Martin said as he grabbed the handle of his portable golf cart. “My arthritis is acting up, so you’re going to have to give me two more points for the nine holes. It should be four, but I’m sure Hunter will be able to make up for it.”

Dex smothered a grin. His grandfather needed extra handicap points like he needed a hole in the head. The man could outshoot almost any man at the club on the back nine. He and Gray were about to get their asses handed to them.

“Mr. Evans, if your arthritis is acting up, maybe we should have gotten an electric cart so you could have ridden,” Hunter suggested.

“Just need to stretch out my muscles, young man. Let’s move on ahead and talk about what club you should use when you get up toward the green. Should it be a nine iron, or a wedge? This will take some thought.”

Dex purposefully walked slower so that he could talk to Gray. “Have you heard anything about the ambassador’s granddaughters? How are they doing?”