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“I know! Your form sucks!” Dylan called back. “High knees now!”
Let me tell you: nobody over the age of fifty in this room was doing high knees. They were jogging.
“Saylor, get those knees up!”
“I’ll put those knees somewhere!” I hollered back. “Come here and I’ll show you!”
Grandma laughed. “I bet you’d like to put something else there.”
“That’s it. No more romance novels for you. I’m putting you in—” I wheezed. Sweet baby Jesus. “Time out,” I finished.
“I’m dying,” Kinsley gasped. “Dying. I thought this was over.”
“It’s easier when you don’t talk!” Dylan called. “You’re all doing great! Well, most of you are.” He looked pointedly in our direction.
I offered him a snazzy view of my middle fingers.
That’s right. Fingers. Plural.
Sometimes, you just needed an extra fuck you.
“Aaaaand rest,” Dylan called, coming to a stop himself.
Everyone in the room slowed, and both me and Kinsley collapsed in a heap on the floor. Dylan didn’t look like he’d broken a sweat, yet we were going to need to commandeer our grandparent’s rooms and take a shower before we could be seen in public.
Maybe I’d use the nightshade in his dinner.
That was less effort. God only knew I’d exerted enough just now.
Speaking of God, I was sure he wouldn’t mind. He didn’t strike me as a cardio kinda guy, you know?
On another related note, I was pretty sure I was dying.
At least they had a nurse here if I was.
“Here.”
I opened my eyes to see Dylan standing over me. His positioning was such that the light was right behind his head, making him appear somewhat angelic.
Ironic.
He felt like the devil.
He held out a hand and pulled me up, giving me a cold bottle of water. “You’re mad at me, right?”
I opened the water and shoved the bottle into my mouth before I could answer.
He did not want the answer to that.
“Noted.” His smile was far too amused for someone who was quite literally on the verge of being murdered.
“I hate you,” I whispered.
“No, you don’t.” His smile widened, and he disappeared between the elderly people who were not nearly as out of breath as I was.
I’d be embarrassed by that if I hadn’t watched them bounce on the balls of their feet when they should be doing knee high kicking doohickeys.
The double standard was astounding, given that Dylan had yelled at me fifty times for not getting my knees up high enough.
I wanted to kick him.
“This is ridiculous,” Kinsley said. “I hope you poison his tea in the morning.”
“I hear that,” I muttered, rolling my shoulders. I finished the water and walked over to my grandmother. “Why do you look so happy?”
Her eyes sparkled as she leaned in. “He’s got a great butt.”
Oh, God.
Here we go.
“I’m not having this conversation with you. I do not need to hear how attracted you think you are to my roommate.”
“I don’t know why you don’t date him. He’s a nice young boy.”
“He’s not a boy. He’s a man.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re too old to be lusting after Dylan. Cut it out.”
“Never too old to lust,” Agatha confirmed, looking right over my shoulder. She had a bit of a meerkat pose—you know, straight back, head up. All she needed was her hands held in front of her and boom. Meerkat.
I peered over my shoulder and was not at all surprised to see Dylan standing there talking to one of the nurses. She was clearly flirting with him, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes when she gazed at him like she was staring at God’s gift to women.
Agatha’s lips pulled up. “Oooh. You don’t like him talking to Stacy.”
I jerked my head back around. “He can talk to Stacy. I don’t care if he’s talking to Stacy. Who even is Stacy?”
“The nurse,” Grandma said. “She’s new. Started a few days ago. I don’t know if I like her.”
“I don’t like her,” Agatha declared, pinging the waistband of her neon yellow yoga pants so it made a snap. “She looks like one of them gold-digger women. Only here to cozy up to Leonard Fisher for his money.”
“If he had money, he wouldn’t be here,” I said dryly. “Although it costs enough.”
“What was that?” Grandma said. “You goin’ on about money again? I pay for this!”
“You haven’t paid for this place for two years,” I scoffed in return. “You’re losing your damn mind, woman.”
“Don’t you cuss at me.”
“You’ve said worse,” said an unfamiliar male voice. He sidled up between Grandma and Agatha and rested his arms over their shoulders.
For an older guy, he was pretty damn handsome. I’d put money on him being a real looker back in the day. Short gray hair that was almost silver, the kind of color women paid a shit ton of money to achieve. Arched, thick eyebrows, light blue eyes, and a short beard covered his jawline.
