Page 6 of Nerdy or Nice
"Well…if you let me borrow it, I could just load up the kittens and carry them home." Of course, it wasn'tmyhome, but itwashome to the kittens.
For some reason, this made the guy frown.
I was pretty sure I knew why, and I spoke quickly to reassure him. "If you're worried about the carrier, I'll bring it straight back. I promise."
He gave me a funny look. "I'm not worried about the carrier. I'm worried aboutyou."
I didn't get it."Why?"
"Maybe I’m neighborly."
I hated to be rude, especially if he was simply trying to help. Maybe hewasneighborly. Or maybe he was like that guy who'd offered my mom a ride back from the airport, only to pitch a fit when she'd refused to pay him the old-fashioned way – with a hummer in the back seat.
Or at least that's the wayshetold the story. With my mom, fact and fiction could sometimes get a little mixed up.
Regardless, I wasn't about to hop into a stranger's vehicle even if Ididknow where he supposedly lived.
I was still trying to come up with a tactful reply when he said, "The name's Drake, by the way."
Great.Even his name was sexy, which didn't help in the whole trusting department. Of course, maybe his last name was equallyunsexy, which would be a nice balance.
Right on cue, he added, "The last name's Slater."
Drake Slater?
Well, so much for balance.It was a panty-melting name if I'd ever heard one.
I was still waffling on sharing my own name when he asked, "Youdolive in the neighborhood, right?"
Not hardly.This neighborhood was so far beyond my reach, I felt like an imposter every time I pulled my old Chevy clunker through the gate. But I knew what he was really asking, so I replied, "Yeah, but not permanently. I mean, I'm just the pet-sitter."
Technically, I was one of three pet-sitters, not because the kittens were high-maintenance, but because my aunt didn't like the idea of leaving them alone for more than a few hours at a time. Plus, the other two sitters were my favorite cousins, which meant that all three of us would have plenty of companionship in her big, two-story house, especially as the holidays rolled around.
The guy asked, "So how long's the walk?"
"You mean back to where the kittens live? It's notthatfar." As I spoke, I pointed in the general direction of my aunt's place. "Maybe a half mile?"
"How about this?" Drake said. "We'll get the carrier, butI'llbe the one carrying it."
"Why you?" I asked.
"Because if I letyoucarry it, I'll have trouble at home." He gave a rueful chuckle. "And I've got enough ofthatalready."
I considered what I knew of the guy. He had a dog, but the cat belonged to somebody else, somebody he lived with.
Belatedly, everything clicked.Of course.
The guy was married.Or – at the very least – he had a live-in girlfriend with a big orange cat.
Either way, this was a huge relief because it extinguished the spark I'd been trying to douse with good old-fashioned common sense.
Unlike my mom, I never went for the bad boys, not if I could help it. And even with mypreferredtype – nerdy or nice, ideally both – I had zero interest if the guy belonged to somebody else.
As far as Drake's plan to carry the kittens, it was the only available option I had, so I reluctantly watched as the guy lifted the broken stroller and carried it first across the street then and up onto his front porch, using those impressive muscles plus a lot more care than I might've expected.
Still, I drew the line at actually entering his house. Instead, I waited just outside his front door as he slipped inside to retrieve the pet carrier.
The only problem was, while waiting, I learned far too much about my rescuer.Forget the big orange cat.
