This one is for you

CHAPTER 40

Meredith's POV.

I was pushing a few boxes of scotch on a trolley to the front of the bar when the bell on the door jingled. I looked over and smiled at the now increasing familiar, if not annoying sight. I navigated the trolley until it was at the back of the bar and began to line up the bottles under the counter.

"You know..." I began. "Stalkers are known for their subtleties."

"Need some help?" He asked, peering down at me with a smile.

"No thanks...so what brought you here so early again? It's only 5! Is your life so awful that you can't wait to get wasted and drunk?" I joked with him.

"No...I'm waiting for someone." He said casually.

"Really? Who?" I asked, seriously interested. Who's he waiting for?

"Just the love of my life to come back to me again." He said with a smirk, sitting back down in his stool.

"Derek..." I said with a tired smile.

"You look tired." He stated, studying me with a pout.

"I am tired."

"Wanna take a break?" He asked with a smirk.

"I can't. The guys are gonna come in soon, and they wanna drink."

"But Mer..." He said, reaching over the counter, trying to grab my hands.

"Why can't you just sit there and watch me work like you always do?" I asked, a bit annoyed that he was putting on his poor little boy act again.

"I don't wanna sit!" He whined. I thought he was gonna pound his fist on the counter too.

"Please...just work with me a little okay." I asked, stroking his hair with my hand a little. He took my hand into his and began to gently suck on my knuckles.

"Derek!" I warned. But he just continued like he didn't hear me. He began to massage my hands with his own warm ones. But he stopped quickly and began to examine my hands.

"What are you looking at?" I asked, smiling at his weird behaviour.

"Your hands...they're rougher." He said with a deeper voice.

"Well, I don't really get to sit around all day you know. It takes some work to run a bar."

"They shouldn't be that rough." He said, looking up at me with sadness in his eyes.

"What do you want me to do? Waste money on brand new bartenders and waitresses that can't tell their vodka from their scotch?"

"If you lived with me, your hands would never be this rough. They would be soft." He said, revealing his real intentions.

"Dere...you're doing it again." I sighed.

"I don't want you to get hurt. I want to protect you." He said firmly.

"I don't need you to protect me! I like what I'm doing!" I snapped at him and walked to the other side of the bar as another customer came in.

"Saved by the bell." I heard him mumbled under his breath as he began his usual routine of watching me work again, the entire night.