Page 37 of XOXO, Yours

I hate that smile. I especially hate knowing what that smile looks like approximately six inches above my⁠—

Nope. Bad Jules.

Remember: school, children, professionalism.

I point at him. "You cannot honestly tell me you became a substitute teacher just to see me."

His mouth drops open. "I what?"

"You heard me."

"You think I got a job at your school so I could stalk my hookup?"

"When you say it like that, it sounds unreasonable."

"Because it is unreasonable."

"Did you know I worked here?"

He hesitates. Just for a second, but it's enough.

"Payton."

"There's one elementary school in the entire district, Jules. So, yeah, I knew. I figured we might run into each other.”

I open my mouth. Close it again. That is irritatingly logical.

"You work on a ranch."

"I do."

"You're a cowboy."

"Also true."

"You're twenty-two."

"We've discussed this. Repeatedly. So exactly what part are we stuck on?"

I wave toward the hallway. "The part where you're suddenly Mr. Blankenship."

He sighs. “I have a teaching degree, Jules."

I stare at him. "What?"

"I have a degree in elementary education."

"You do not."

He frowns. “Pretty sure I do. I was there when they gave it to me. Went to all the classes and everything.”

"I asked you what you did. At the taco place. You said whatever needs doing."

"And today, what needs doing is fifth grade." He shrugs. "I told you I was mysterious."

"You told me nothing. You never said a word about it."

His eyebrows lift again. "You never asked. You asked me about my job. I told you the truth. You never asked me about college.”