Page 34 of Until Then

He rubs his jaw, brows furrowing, and turns away. After a moment, he stiffens and turns back. “Is the dishwasher running?”

“Yeah,” I say slowly, dropping my arms to my sides and smirking. “I fixed it.”

Confused, he frowns. “You… you fixed the dishwasher?”

My smile grows. “I did.”

“How?”

“I watched a YouTube tutorial and figured it out.”

He eyes the running dishwasher, then assesses me. I haveno idea how long it hasn’t worked, and I wasn’t sure Icouldfix it, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.

With a sigh, he says, “You’re hired.”

Giddiness surges through me. I hold my hand out to shake on it. “Thanks, boss man.”

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, slipping his hand into mine.

I salute him. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

He walks away with a muttered, “What have I gotten myself into?”

I ridewith Derrick the following morning, since he’s working in the office for the day rather than on site. I’m fairly certain he’s only working in the office to get me settled in and to make sure I don’t screw things up.

Until now, I hadn’t realized that he owned a store front. Or something close to a storefront, I guess. The main space is filled with samples—floors, counters, tile, and more—and there is a small office space in the back.

“It’s rare for anyone to come in,” he says, flicking the lights on. “But customers will pop in here and there to look at samples. Typically, I’ve scheduled it with them, so I’ll let you know ahead of time. They can take samples with them, but they should return them within seven days. Just take their name and number before they leave.”

Once he’s given me the rundown, I set Wonton down and let him check the place out. I didn’t exactly ask for permission to bring him, but when I scooped him up and carried him out to the truck, Derrick didn’t balk, so I think it’s safe to assume he’s okay with it.

I settle into a pink chair at the desk that must be Jessica’s and take in the items scattered across the surface. Among the stacks of paperwork, there’s aWorld’s Best Mommug filled with pens and a dog-eared paperback next to the computer monitor. In a small town like this, it’s hard not to wonder if the woman who works for Derrick is the Jessica from book club.

So I shoot off a text to Via. She’ll know.

Yes, she replies almost instantly.

I turn on Jessica’s computer, and when a small screen pops up, notifying me that it needs an update, I sigh. If she’s anything like me, she’s been putting it off. While it does its thing, I scour the desk and various Post-its full of information. I organize things in a way that makes sense to me, deciding I’ll write important information in my own notebook. That should help me keep up with all the things I’ll need to learn.

I can feel Derrick watching me while I organize Jessica’s desk into a state in which I can function.

When I’m wiping off the surface I’ve uncovered, he says, “That’s the cleanest I’ve seen this desk since Jessica started.”

I pull out my notebook and a pink pen. “Some people thrive in chaos. I’m not one of them.” When he continues to watch me, I say, “I don’t need a babysitter. If you need to go do something, you can.”

“I’m fine right here.”

“All right.” Refusing to let his scrutiny bother me, I rifle through my purse and pull out my blue light glasses.

A few years ago, I was steadfastly against using them, but I spend hours in front of a screen editing videos and planning other social content, so eventually, I realized the benefit, and they became a must. Now, I don’t like to use the computer without them.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

I type in the password Jessica forwarded to Derrick and familiarize myself with the home screen. “Only when I’m on a screen, which, admittedly, is a lot.”

He lets out a gruff sound in reply.

A few hours later, the computer files are organized in a way more suited for me, and I’m moving on to alphabetizing his customer list when Derrick stands and stretches. The groan he lets out has me squeezing my thighs together, and the strip of skin the move exposes above his worn jeans doesn’t help me at all.

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