"At the diner the other day...you called that boy your student." Mr. Sexy Pants said. "It wasn't a big leap to think I'd find you here. Then I saw you out there, practicing."
"So you just decided to stand here and watch me? Like some kind of stalker?" Why did the idea of him watching her excite her? She was angry, and she was coming down with the flu. Neither of those things left any room for excitement.
Plus, she was a nobody band teacher from a nowhere town. She wasn't bad looking, for being a nobody from nowhere. She'd always liked her hair, and she thought she had a nice smile. But her eyes were too big, and so was her ass--though she'd been assured by more than one slime ball date that her ass was definitely not a problem. Even so, she was nothing like the supermodels who probably threw themselves at him on a regular basis.
Not that she wanted to be. She didn't like Derek, and she didn't want him to like her.
"No. I decided to wait until you were done so I could apologize."
"Do you really think I'd let you anywhere near Cody again?"
Derek ran his fingers through his hair, and before she could tell herself not to, she was wondering what it would be like if those were her fingers instead of his.
He took a deep breath before he spoke, as if building up the courage to get the words out. "Listen...those things I said...the way I acted...that wasn't me. I'd never treat someone that way, especially not a kid. But..."
Layla's heart stuttered as he snagged her eyes with his again, only this time he wouldn't let go.
"It's not just the kid who I was rude to. I was rude to you as well. My mother would be ashamed," he said. "I'm sorry."
She hardened her resolve and shook her head. This man was used to getting whatever he wanted. Whoever he wanted. Her forgiveness would not be so freely given. "Right. Why are you here, Mr. Taylor?"
"I told you--"
"No. I mean here. In Maybe."
Voices drifted over from the band room door as the first handful of students left for the day. She needed to get Derek out of here before any of them came over to talk to him. She couldn't take his word that things would be different if they did.
"I'm just visiting." He looked at his feet again.
"Visiting who? For how long?"
The corner of his mouth lifted in a hint of a smile. When he spoke, his voice ran over her like silk. "Why do you want to know?"
Layla opened her mouth to answer, but closed it again. After everything that had happened, the guy had the nerve to flirt with her, and to top if off, he'd somehow convinced her to like it.
"I want to know how long I need to worry that you'll pop in and crush another one of my student's egos, that's all."
His smile vanished, and she instantly regretted her harshness. But she had no choice. Not really. She had to protect her kids.
She had to protect herself.
A few more drops of rain dotted her clipboard, and she glanced up at the sky. Time to get inside and get away from him before she did something stupid. Like forgive him.
As if the conversation with Derek belonged to someone else and the raindrops were a catalyst for her life to resume its course, a flush crept over her body and she suddenly felt like if she didn't lay down right this second, she'd keel over. Actually, the grass looked pretty damn comfortable right about now. She wiped the fresh sheen of perspiration from her forehead with the back of her shaking hand.
Frowning, Derek stepped toward her. This time he did touch her elbow, his fingers firm and steady through her jacket.
"You're sick." He studied her face from under furrowed brows. "Let me help you inside. You need to sit down."
She looked down at his hand on her elbow, barely registering that the most beautiful and frustrating man she'd ever met was touching her. A man who'd probably touched hundreds of other women before.
She should have shook him off since she had no intention of forgiving him, but she didn't have the energy. She tried to at least convey her displeasure with a sideways glare, but that was pretty hard to do when she wasn't convinced she was displeased.
Besides...he was right about one thing. She needed to sit down.
He guided her toward the door, and she let him. When another handful of students came out, casting curious glances in their direction, she finally came to her senses as much as her illness would allow.
"Look. You need to leave now." She stopped walking and pulled her arm from his grasp. "I don't want any of the kids to recognize you."
"So what if they recognize me. I'm not a monster." Derek clenched his hands at his sides.
"Maybe not," she said. "But I can't take that chance. You apologized...I'll tell Cody. Just go."
"I want to tell him myself."
"He's not here today." She started to walk away from him, using the last of her stamina to keep her shoulders back and chin high.
"Then I'll come back."
Derek took a step as if to follow, but stopped when she shot him a look over her shoulder. She couldn't tell if it was frustration or disappointment, but the expression on his face was enough to make her want to give him all the forgiveness he wanted.
She sighed and turned her back. "Don't."
***********************
Derek watched as Ms. M hurried inside the school, her ebony hair streaming in the wind behind her. Usually he wished women would leave him alone, but he didn't like this.
He didn't like this woman--this band teacher with the dark eyes of a goddess--running from him.
He reminded himself that he'd insinuated himself in her life, and she clearly didn't want him there, even if it was just to apologize. She thought he was a sleaze ball.
He couldn't blame her, though it bothered him that she was so unwilling to look past the person she assumed him to be. Oh well. That was his fault. He'd acted like a cocky, entitled jerk, so why would she want to hear anything he had to say.
Ms. M.
He didn't even know her name, but she already thought she knew everything about him.
He was used to people having opinions about him, and he'd learned over the years not to give a shit about any of them. It shouldn't matter if this particular woman thought he was an asshole, unworthy of buying a candy bar for her fundraiser or apologizing for not getting one while he had the chance.
She was nothing to him, not in scope of the life that had built itself around him over the last ten years.
So why did redeeming himself suddenly seem like the most important thing in the world? Why did he want to prove to this woman that he was worthy of her respect?
He smiled to himself. It was because she was a band teacher. She had that whole respect-me-now-or-pay-later thing going on. If she were his, he'd be happy to "pay later" in any way she'd see fit. Hell, he'd get in trouble just so she'd make him pay.
No wonder her male students practically tripped over each other to carry her ladder in for her. The ladder, which incidentally put her ass at a perfect vantage point for admiring the soft, full curves that most likely had all the horny teenage boys in her band waking up with a hard on every morning.
Derek didn't remember teachers looking like that when he was a young and not-so-innocent clarinet player, and he certainly didn't remember any teachers wearing ass-hugging jeans like that.
And those eyes...wide and brown, tilting down at the corners in a sleepy, sultry way that gave her freshly fucked look and made him wonder what it would be like if she was, in fact, freshly fucked.
By him.
Derek headed back to his car as the first students began to filter out of the building. The few drops of rain that had fallen during his extremely unsuccessful attempt at getting in Ms. M.'s good graces turned into a light rain that had the students scattering for their cars. Never one to run from a storm, he walked slowly, enjoying the way the cold droplets misted over his face.
He pulled out his pack of cigarettes, turning it over in his palm before shoving it back in his pocket. Ms. M. had told him not to smoke on school property. She'd yelled it at him through a megaphone while standing less than five feet away. He had to respect someone who mustered the energy to do that when she was clearly not feeling well.
Besides, he didn't need to smoke, he just did it out of habit. Like so many other things in his life. Like being an asshole when he felt cornered, or pretending his relationship with his sister was an inevitable casualty of his fame.
A group of girls ran past him, oblivious to the rock star walking next to them, stepping over the potholes in his expensive shoes. The anonymity, the normalcy of it all...it felt good. Or it would have felt good if he hadn't already fucked it all up.
He climbed in the car and watched through the rain-spattered windshield as the rest of the kids dashed out of the building. The rain kept to a drizzle until all of the students were gone, then it poured from the sky, the water pounding on his roof in an arrhythmic cadence that was calming and turbulent at the same time.
He wasn't ready to leave yet, because once he turned the car on, he was leaving Maybe for good.
He'd been dreaming. This whole stupid thing had been nothing but a drunken mistake. The countless voicemails from his manager had confirmed that.
There was no fate in that thumbtack, no chance he'd find his happiness here, turret or not. He hadn't even spent the night in his own house yet, but he'd decided to sell it.