“And check this out.” He reaches for the birdhouse’s tiny door and opens it. “There’s an actual room inside, and I placed an even smaller room inside it. I have another present for you in there. But you’re not allowed to open it yet.”
“You’re joking.” I squeal, peering inside at the dollhouse-like interior. “When can I open it?”
“I don’t know,” he says with a sardonic grin. “You can’t ever open it technically. You have to break into it with a hammer. But don’t worry. One day, I’ll let you see what’s inside.”
My jaw drops. “How am I supposed to be that patient?” I protest.
He points at me. “That response is exactly why I made it entry by blunt force only.”
I roll my eyes at him playfully and then set the birdhouse down to thank him. I thank him thoroughly. And when the thanking moves to his couch, I pause, remembering something. “Declan, I have a question.”
“Yeah. Anything,” he replies in a husky voice.
“Do you… I don’t know, maybe have a photo of us in your wallet?”
He stills for a second before realization dawns on him. He smirks like he’s been caught. “How’d you know?”
“A little bird at the coffee shop might have told me.”
“That’s strange. I only know one Little Bird at the coffee shop.”
I jolt.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I need you to fire me.”
“Excuse me?” He rears his chin back from beneath me.
“Yeah. I can’t work for you anymore. You’ve been a terrible boss.”
“Fine.” He furrows his brows. “You’re fired.”
“Thank you,” I say, pleased. “Wait, who’s going to help you with renovations now? Should I help you find some—”
“Oh, no. You’re good. I don’t need any help.”
“What do you mean? There was no one doing overtime hours before me?”
“Nope. I made that job up.” He smiles. “For you.”
My head tilts. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah.” He chuckles like it’s obvious. “I was doing the renovations just fine on my own. But you said you needed a job with overtime hours, so I just figured…”
My heart protests in my chest once again. This man.
“Well, thank you, first of all. That was extremely charitable especially considering how unskilled I am with power tools. But also…” I swat his shoulder.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“For being a sneaky, sneaky boss,” I jibe. “But you are ageneroussneaky boss. I’ll give you that.”
“Iwasa sneaky, sneaky boss,” he corrects.
“Right. Well, on the upside, now that I’m not your barista, I can finally finish this romance book.”
“Slacker. You haven’t finished it yet?”
“I’ve been a little busy slinging lattes for you, sir. But I’m nearing the end.”
