Page 8 of Nerdy or Nice
"I'm not helping her for the name."
"Yeah, but if there's no baby, maybe there's no guy. Maybeyoucould be the guy."
"Forget it," Drake laughed. "She's not my type."
I stiffened. Okay, so I'd already decided that Drake wasn'tmytype either. Still, to hear him dismiss me so casually, well, it was a little insulting, that's all.
And now, the older guy was saying, "Is it the glasses? Yeah they're butt-ugly, but your grandma's were twice as ugly, and I didn't letthatstop me."
Oh, for crying out loud.
His comment about my glasses should've made me happy. For years, I'd cultivated my appearance to avoid attracting the wrong type of men. And yet, I couldn't seem to avoid them – even in a neighborhood like this.
Yup, I was a loser-magnet, alright.
Too harsh?
Probably.
But why couldn't I find a nice simple guy, preferably employed with his own place? And here was a better question. On those rare occasions when Ididfind such a guy, why was it that it never worked out?
But I knew why.I was my own worst enemy.
Just like my mom.
The thoughtwasn'ta jolly one.
I was still dwelling on this festive nugget when it belatedly struck me that the two voices had faded into the distance, as if they'd gone deeper into the house.
Great.
NowI was wishing for a listening device because I was dying to know why exactly I wasn't Drake's type. If itwasthe glasses, this only proved how superficial he was.
Right?
I let out a long, frustrated breath.Yup, I was seriously messed up.
It was funny in a way, because if you asked anyone I knew, they'd probably say I was the constant voice of reason.
It just went to show how a book didn't always match its cover. Sure, I was unruffled on the outside, but on the inside, I was a bundle of nonstop confusion.
And of course, the confusion didn't clear when Drake finally returned with the carrier.
In some ways, the confusion had only begun.
Chapter 5
Drake
When I opened the front door, she jumped like I'd caught her by surprise.
I tried not to laugh. "What, you thought I wasn't coming back?"
Her glasses were big, black, and clunky, and her pale blond hair was wound into a schoolmarmish bun that looked tight enough to lift her eyebrows.
Even so, those same brows lowered as she gave a casual shrug. "No. I mean, I knew you were coming back." She reached up to shove aside a strand of hair that had somehow escaped the bun. "Or at least, Ihopedyou would. I mean, for the sake of the cats."
When a new blast of wind sent the strand of hair back into her face, she sighed and didn't bother shoving it back.
