"No way!"
He nods. "Way. Mark thinks she's some sort of witch. She always knows things she shouldn't."
Now I do laugh. "No, she's not a witch. She's really good at watching people when they think she's not looking—and she can read them like a book."
He groans. "That explains so much."
"Don't you dare tell Mark or Alex. Let them go on thinking that. I might suggest she bring in some voodoo dolls that resemble those two."
He throws his head back and laughs, really laughs, like Derrick doesn't do very often. I want so much to kiss and lick his neck, but I'm enjoying his company this way for now.
"I won't tell a soul," he vows.
"She's going to have so much fun with this."
"Which part?" he prods.
I smile at him. "Both. I imagine we'll both get an 'I told you so' from her."
"At the very least. I think I should send her flowers by way of apology for not acting on things sooner."
"I might get jealous if you go sending Harriette flowers and I remain flowerless," I tease.
"Baby, I'll send you flowers every day if you want me to."
I shake my head. "Then it wouldn't mean as much, it'd be routine. I like being surprised."
"So noted," he replies, then leans forward to press his lips to mine, lingering, sipping at my lips before pulling back.
I take a drink of my beer. "I really like this," I tell him.
He nods. "I picked it up by accident, thinking it was another brand. I've never gone back to drinking the other again."
"I'm not much of a beer drinker, but this. This I'll drink."
"You're more of a sweet drink girl."
I lift a brow. "How would you know that? When you saw me at The Vault I was drinking rum."
"Harriette isn't the only one who pays attention. At the company events, you always go for the sweet white wine or girly drink."
"There is nothing girlie about the drinks I drink. They may look pretty, but they are potent," I inform him.
He just smirks.
"What?" I ask, wiping my mouth with a napkin. "Do I have something on my face?"
"No." That's all he says as he continues to look at me with a gleam in his eyes I've never seen before. It's one I enjoy seeing there. It's also one that scares me.
"Text your boys," I demand.
He does, smiling as he does. When his phone beeps with a reply he holds it out to me.
"Mark. Why am I not surprised? That's rude, man." I snicker. "What did you say to him?"
He thumbs his phone. Keep your mouth shut about it.
I grin. "Think they will?"
