Page 54 of Until Then

“Thank you!”

Under my desk, Wonton pops up and lets out a little yip to match my excitement.

Without a moment’s hesitation, I get to work setting up the Instagram account, already thinking of which sites I want to return to for photos and videos.

I’m immersed in my work when Derrick stands up from his desk and stretches his arms above his head. I wish I could say I didn’t turn to peek at his delectable abs, but I do. I can’t help it. He goes for a run almost every morning, and hehasto go to the gym to have the muscles he does, but I have no idea when he fits that in.

“Let’s go get lunch,” he announces, swiping his keys off the desk.

Wonton bolts out from under my desk and jumps up on his leg, tongue lolling and tail wagging.

“But I packed?—”

He shakes his head. “If I don’t get out of here for a little while, I’ll go crazy.”

“You know,” I push my chair back, “you don’t have to babysit me if you want to be out there working with your guys. I won’t stop you.”

“I’m not here for you,” he bites out. “I have shit to catch up on.”

I have to turn away so he won’t see my smile. His cutting words should hurt, but it’s impossible when he’s only sayingthem because he’s defensive. He was working on my sister’s store the first couple of times I visited, so I saw firsthand how much he likes to be on site with his guys, working alongside them. Maybe he’s not solely hanging around the office because of me, but I can’t imagine I’m not at least a small part of the reason. He might not want to admit it, but he likes my company.

As he should. I’m a blast.

“Whatever you say, boss man.”

I pick up my purse, then crouch and give Wonton a kiss on his head.

Derrick holds the door open for me, eyeing Wonton to make sure he doesn’t follow us out, then locks up behind us.

My poor pup sits in front of the glass door, batting at it with his paw, his expressive little face so forlorn.

“I’ll be back soon,” I tell him, my heart aching.

As I turn and start for Derrick’s truck, he’s rounding the hood, shaking his head. “You and that dog.”

“What about us?” I ask as I yank the passenger door open.

He pauses near the front of the truck, twirling his keychain around his finger. “It’s cute, is all. He’s like your kid.”

“He is my kid.”

A laugh sputters out of him, but he sobers at my flat expression. “Oh, you were serious. Do you…” He clears his throat. “Do you not want kids of the human variety?”

“One day I’d love to have them,” I answer immediately, my chest warming at the idea. “But for now, he’s my kid, and even then, he’ll still be my first kid.”

He shakes his head, the longish strands brushing his forehead, probably thinking about how crazy dog lovers are.

I’m buckling my seat belt when he climbs in the truck, and only a few minutes later, he parks on the road in front of thediner. I should have guessed. He’s never said, but I have a sneaking suspicion that once Layla moved out, he became a regular.

He’s hinted at how lonely he was once his house was empty. I can imagine that it not only made him eager to spend time around people but also made it more difficult to want to cook, since he’d only be cooking for himself.

As we step inside, the bell above the door chimes. He steers me toward a booth with a hand low on my waist.

The vinyl of the booth squeaks obnoxiously when my bare legs slide across. An older gentleman a few tables away gives a soft chuckle, though he attempts to hide it behind his coffee mug.

With a small shake of my head, I pick up the menu from the shelf on the side of the table. I’ve eaten here plenty, but I like to change things up, and there are several things left to try.

Rather than pick up his own menu, Derrick laces his fingers and rests his hands on the table.

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