Drake gave a dramatic groan. "Not that again."
"Yes.Thatagain," I teased. "And just so you know, Iwasinterested. I was just trying to talk myself out of it, that's all."
"Good thing you failed."
I nestled closer. "Boy isn'tthatthe truth."
"But speaking of Gramps," Drake said, "I owe him for today."
"How so?"
"This morning, it's still dark out, and I'm sitting at the kitchen table all pissed off, and Gramps wanders out of his bedroom and says, 'What's eatingyou?'And when I tell him, he says, 'You're not mad atGwen.You're still pissed about that stuck-up cheerleader.'"
I laughed. "He did?"
"Oh, yeah. And at first, I think he's full of it, but then I realized something."
"What?"
"He was right." Drake's voice softened. "AndIwas wrong – especially last night when I kept telling myself that I was making a scene foryoursake."
"Oh," I teased. "So you did that forme?"
"Hey, I'm notalwayssmart," he said. "But with a little prodding from somebody who's known me since diapers, I realized it was about me and my baggage. Made me feel like a total ass."
As the events from last night came flooding back, I said, "Yeah, well, you weren't theonlyass last night."
Drake's hand drifted lower to my backside, and his tone grew mischievous. "Nice dirty-talk."
"What?" I giggled. "Ass?" In the heat of the moment, I'd said things a lot filthier thanthat.
Drake said, "Hell, you could read a recipe book, and I'd still find it sexy."
"Hah! Andyoucould read a phone book, assuming you could find one."
Drake's tone grew serious. "But just so you know, I would've figured it out on my own, evenwithoutGramps. And you wanna know why?"
"Why?"
"Because I'm not dumb enough to let you go."
I smiled in his arms. "AndI'mnot dumb enough to let you let me go. See? It works both ways."
He gave me another squeeze. "That, it does."
I basked in that happy thought for a long blissful moment before pulling away to sit up beside him, taking part of the covers with me. "As long as we're confessing," I said, "I've got one of my own."
He sat up and leaned against the headboard. "Oh, yeah?"
I nodded. "You remember my glasses?"
"Those things?" he chuckled. "Pretty hard to forget."
I gave him a playful poke to the shoulder. "Oh, stop it. I'm trying to tell you that they're not real."
His eyebrows lifted. "They looked real tome."
"Sure, they exist,obviously. But they're not prescription. They have this anti-glare thing, but that's pretty much it."
