"Layla's a great teacher...I've never met one that cares more about the kids than she does. She's very protective," Annie said. "And we're all very protective of her. You were horrible to Cody. She's not going to let you off the hook just because you bat your eyes at her."
"Trust me, I know. I think she would have given me a detention if she could have." Maybe he could still convince her to give him one...one where he could work very hard to make teacher happy.
Annie rolled her eyes, but Derek could tell by the way her mouth softened that she didn't hate him as much as she had a few minutes ago.
"I promised her I would make it up to Cody. And to her." Derek stepped up to the glass counter, peering down at the shelf of pies underneath. "Is Cody here?"
"Nope. Called off sick."
Derek nodded. He figured as much since the kid wasn't at school today either. "I'll just have to catch up with him to apologize in person another time. But for now, I was hoping to buy some of his candy. He asked me the other day right before I turned into a dick head."
Annie laughed. "Oh, I bet you turned into a dick head way before that." She pointed at the box with the licorice. "That's it. Candy's a buck a piece."
"Licorice?" He made a face. The only think he hated more than strawberry licorice was black licorice.
Annie raised her eyebrows.
"I love licorice." Derek grinned and pulled out his wallet. "But more importantly, I love kids who love music."
The only cash he had was in the form of three one hundred dollar bills. He stuffed one in the envelope next to the box and shoved the licorice in his jacket pocket.
Annie's eyes widened, but Derek just winked at her. As far as he was concerned, that package of disgusting, red, rubber sticks that passed for candy was totally worth it.
"Maybe you can help me with something else." He leaned down and examined the pies. Chocolate, apple, lemon meringue, and banana cream, each one more than half-way gone. "The other day, I believe Ms. M. was eating a dessert of some kind. Does she have a favorite?"
"She always orders banana."
"You wouldn't happen to have a whole banana cream pie around here somewhere, would you?"
Annie's lips twitched again. "Chuck!" she yelled as she turned and pushed through the swinging doors behind her.
"What now?" yelled a man's voice from the kitchen.
Derek drummed his fingers on the counter while he waited for Annie to return with the verdict. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at the Buick Ball Busters, who glared back at him. Finally Annie came back, box in hand.
She slid it across the counter at him. "That's supposed to be for tomorrow, but since it's for Layla, I'll let you buy it."
"You're fantastic. I bet your customers love you. If I lived in town, I'd eat here every day." He handed her the other hundred and pulled out a pack of spearmint gum from the display. He hadn't realized until that second that he'd decided to quit smoking. "That's for the pie. And the gum. The change is for you."
"I can't accept that."
"Consider it a tip for not throwing me out on my ass the other day." He gave her his most sheepish smile.
She snorted. "You already left a tip for that."
"Then consider it a bonus...for being so protective of your own. I really want you to have it. Please."
Annie blushed, and Derek knew he'd won her over. Before she could object again, he shoved the remaining hundred in her hand.
"This is for them." He jerked his head at the old men in the corner. "For their coffee and whatever else. I can tell they really don't like me, and I don't want them to...you know..." He made a slicing motion across his neck with his finger.
She laughed again, the lines of wariness around her eyes melting away once and for all. "Are you really a famous musician?"
"I suppose you could say that." Derek tucked the pie box in the crook of his elbow.
"What the hell are you doing here, then?"
"I don't know, Annie. I really don't know." With a shake of his head, he left.
***********************************
Layla's doorbell rang, the opening phrase of Beethoven's 5th rousing her from her sleep. She hadn't moved from the couch since Derek left except to give Gabi her car keys. She couldn't possibly be returning them already.
Gabi's mom, who loved Layla like her own daughter and had many men around town at her beck and call, had offered to call in a favor that would result in her car getting to the shop and the battery replaced tonight. Even though it was clearly tonight judging by the blackness outside, it hadn't been that long.
She rolled from the couch, wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, and trudged to the door, flicking on her lamps as she went. She clasped the chenille under her chin, remembering the way Derek's fingers had set her skin ablaze as he tugged the velvet-soft fabric over her shoulder.
As much as she wanted to despise him, she found the man intriguing. And it had been a long time since she'd even thought about letting a man...intrigue her.
Hell, there weren't many guys around town who she was interested in, so she usually just ended up intriguing herself. And lately she'd been so busy with work, by the time she got home at the end of the day, she was too tired to do even that.
But Derek...those damn sexy pants of his made her feel excitement over something besides her next marching routine or the fall concert line-up.
Not that it mattered.
Maybe was just a temporary stop on his game board. A neat little square where he could park his playing piece until he got bored and decided to roll the dice again. He'd be gone soon, if he wasn't gone already.
She was sure she was thinking way more about him than he was about her, and that pissed her off. Her life wasn't a game.
Layla flicked on the porch light and cracked the door, half-expecting to see Gabi standing there in a frosting smudged apron, her keys dangling from her finger, but the porch was empty. She scanned her darkened driveway, but that was empty, too.
Then her eyes lit on the plastic bag at her feet.
She picked it up, her eyes flicking over the empty driveway again before peeking inside the bag. An entire banana cream pie, a package of peppermint tea, and an envelope with her name on it. Well, not exactly her name.
Ms. M.
Her stomach did a little flip as she realized who it was from, and part of her--the stupid part that wanted to be really intrigued by a man who had just upped the stakes of his own little game--wished he was there so she could see him just one more time.
Maybe yell at him a little for waking her up while dancing on the inside that he had done something so thoughtful, yet again. The jerk.
Obviously he'd been back to Chuck's, which must have gone well for him considering Annie sold him a whole pie. She wouldn't have done that if she was still pissed, so he must have done something to make amends.
Layla wondered how he knew banana cream was her favorite. Annie was probably responsible for that, too.
She closed the door and headed to the kitchen, where she stowed the pie in the fridge and started a kettle of water for her much needed tea. As she waited for her water to heat, she studied the envelope.
Ms. M.
She could hear him saying it, the smooth, sensual timbre of his voice making it sound more like dirty talk than a form a address. If she ever saw him again, she would insist that he call her Layla. This Ms. M. business had to stop before she felt the need to intrigue herself just from hearing those two, delicious syllables.
Layla ripped open the envelope and pulled out the card inside. The front had drawing of a woman in red galoshes, jumping in a puddle as the rain fell around her. The inside was blank except for a single line of handwriting, the letters looping and tilting at an angle across the card.
Her kettle began to whistle, but she ignored it, unable to pull her eyes from what Derek had written.
Some games are worth playing.