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He smiled. “See? That’s why she likes you.”

For the next forty minutes, everything was exactly what it should’ve been.

Measurements, cabinet samples, and lighting. We discussed whether the island needed seating for six. I informed him that having six stools didn’t magically make his island larger, but he told me that money could make the island larger.

Derek smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and I turned back toward the samples.

“Anyway, I think—”

“Are you always this serious?”

I stopped because here we go with this shit.

“I take my work seriously.”

“I can tell.”

I picked up another sample. “This would complement the flooring without—”

“You look nice today.”

My hand stopped. There were a thousand appropriate ways for a client to compliment me, but I felt that one wasn’t client-friendly.

I set the sample down and moved toward the hallway. “Thank you.”

The bedroom doors were open and I kept them that way.

Derek leaned against the dresser. “You drink?”

I didn’t look up from measuring the windows for curtains. “Socially.”

“Caren said you like wine.”

I glanced at him hoping that would shut him up. “Sometimes.”

“We have a great bottle downstairs.”

“No, thank you.”

“Come on. It’s almost five.”

“I’m driving.”

“One glass.”

“No.” I smiled. “Thank you.”

He stared, then lifted both hands. “Damn. Okay.”

I returned to the window hoping that he would just end the entire conversation.

“Caren doesn’t have to know everything.”