Page 23 of Not Catching Love

Then I’ll slip back in. Half the people in this room have Alzheimer’s and don’t know who the fuck I am anyway. Why Aggy thought I’d like to teach an art class here is beyond me, but when she gets an idea in her head, there’s no getting rid of it. Molly would be better at this than me. Or Seven. Or … literally anyone. Not only do they have the talent, but they have the patience to back it up. I’m one blue tree trunk away from upending the kiddie paints over my head.

Or maybe not.

Even though those little bottlesclaimthey’re nontoxic, I wouldn’t be surprised to develop heatstroke, accidentally ingest some, and end up in emergency.

So really, stalking Derek is the safest option.

I check Aggy is still distracted and then slip smoothly into the hall.

My hands are a mess, and I probably should have washed them first, but there was no time. Plus, it’s not like I’m going to let him see me anyway. My hair is done, I’m in a cute outfit, and I’m teaching a paint class, for fuck’s sake. Obviously, I’m going to get a little messy. If he has an issue with that, then … then …

That crawly feeling climbs over my skin, and I glance around for a bathroom. When I come up empty, I resign myself to staying paint speckled, hurry to the end of the hall, and slip down the left he’s just taken.

Then almost trip over my feet in an attempt to backpedal.

Derek’s paused outside the room up ahead, but my rapid movements catch his attention.

He glances up as I’m mid-leap, and his wide eyes meet mine as I disappear back behind the wall.

Well. That probably looked weird.

I’m about to bolt, claim this never happened and he’s imagining things—“You thought you saw me, Derek, maybe you shouldlook into the deeper meaning behind that”—when he takes the choice out of my hands.

His sudden appearance knocks the breath from my lungs. Almost a full head taller than me, rugged features, and the kindest eyes of anyone I’ve ever seen.

“This isn’t the bathroom,” slips out before I can stop it.

Derek tries to fold down his smile, making his cheeks pop happily. “Were you following me, Xander?”

“Depends what your answer would be if I was.”

“That it’s incredibly inappropriate and a little odd.”

Well, that wasn’t the cute response I was hoping for. “Oh. Then in that case, no. Definitely was not.”

Derek’s laugh comes free, and it’s so warm and full I want to wrap it around myself and live there. “You’re a shitty liar.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“A good thing would be not lying in the first place.”

“Then how would I keep things interesting?”

His steady gaze sweeps over me. “I’m sure you’d find a way.”

Thatalmostsounds like a compliment. I cling to it, cheeks getting hotter and stomach all fluttery. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m about to teach a dance class. Or, more accurately, spend an hour spinning people around the room and pretending not to notice when the older ladies tap my butt in thanks.”

“Awww, grandmas. The lil assaulters.”

“Apparently, it’s cute if you have wrinkles.”

I lean against the wall, thankful that my stalking at least seems to be forgotten about. “So you’re telling me I have a few years to wait?”

“I think I’ll be dead before you have wrinkles.”

Derek’s face drops, I’m assuming because he’s just realized he used the “D” word. And sure, I have fits where I think I’mdying, but unless I’m in that headspace, I know how ridiculous it is. Logically, Iknow. The last thing I want is Derek tripping over himself to apologize or making things suddenly weird between us, so I jump in before he gets that chance. “I might not have wrinkles, but if I took your class, would you let me tap your butt in thanks?”

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