Page 97 of Nerdy or Nice
"Not justthat," Lexie said. "The container was open, too."
"Exactly!" I said. "When it hits the floor, the top goes flying, and the snacks go everywhere." I grinned. "Then the kittens gobble them up. See?"
It reallywashilarious. According to Drake, Tango did the same thing. Or rather, heusedto do the same thing, but not anymore – not since Grandpa Clint had started storing cat-snacks in a big screw-top bin.
To open that, youdidneed thumbs. But if I knew Tango, he just might find a way. Andthistime, he would surely keep it a secret.
As far asmybig secret, it wasn't a secret anymore. I still didn't know why Harper had been crying, because she refused to say. But shehadsaid something else.She knew I was dating Drake. And rather than being angry about it, she said that if I was happy,shewas happy, too.
See?She reallywasterrific. And far as Lexie, she'd been positively thrilled to learn I was dating a guy right here in the neighborhood, which made total sense, considering thatshewas doing the same thing.
After Harper returned to the kitchen, Lexie plopped down into a nearby armchair and said, "You know what you should do?"
"What?"
She leaned forward. "When you go there tonight, you should dress as a Christmas elf."
I laughed. "Why would I do that?"
"Just trust me," she said. "He'd totally love it."
I snickered. "But I don't have a costume."
"You can borrow mine." Her eyes brightened. "I just washed it and everything."
I suddenly recalled that Ididhave a costume of my own. Sure, it wasn't Christmassy, butDrakehad seemed to like it. And Clint had a terrific sense of humor.
What wouldhesay if I showed up as a non-Christmas elf?
TheoldGwen would have discarded the idea as far too silly, especially if the neighbors gawked and pointed. But thenewme realized that a little gawking wasn't always bad, especially if you made someone you cared about smile.
Lexie gave a happy squeal. "Oh, my God. You're gonna do it, aren't you?"
My lips twitched at the corners. "Maybe."
Thirty minutes later, I was about to ring a certain somebody's doorbell when I heard Grandpa Clint say from inside the house, "Will ya look at that? She's the wrong kind of elf."
"No," Drake said with a smile in his voice. "She's therightkind of elf. And stick to the script, will ya?"
Huh?The Christmas pie was cradled in my left arm, and my right hand was still poised over the doorbell. But I held off on ringing it.
They had to be talking aboutme.
After all, I didn't see anyone else dressed as an elf.
On the other side of the door, Grandpa Clint muttered something that sounded like an apology before saying in a loud, booming voice, "So, she'sexactlyyour type, huh?"
I snickered.What the heck?
"Yes, she is," Drake said in a booming voice of his own. "I'm pretty sure she's the one."
"Well, she's gotmyvote," Grandpa Clint said.
Drake lowered his voice. "Hey, that wasn't in the script."
"So what?" Clint said. "It's the truth.Thatgirl? She's a keeper."
Drake laughed. "That, she is."
