Chapter 11

His only choice for a seat was on Gwen’s other side, directly opposite Colin. He leaned back, his beer in hand, and simply watched for several minutes, letting the others get comfortable amongst themselves, laughing and joking and almost forgetting he was there. Colin didn’t, if the surreptitious glances he kept shooting Grady’s way were any indication. But he angled toward Gwen and started talking intensely about some band Grady had never heard of, and all Grady could do was listen.

When the music on the jukebox changed to Poison—and he couldn’t help but wonder which one of the college kids had a hard-on for bad eighties hair metal—Grady brightened and sat up. “We need to dance to this,” he said to Gwen, interrupting her conversation with Colin. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

Gwen’s mouth pressed in a small, self-conscious smile. “Oh no, I can’t dance.”

“Especially not to Talk Dirty to Me,” Colin said. “Am I the only one who wishes Bret Michaels would just go away?”