Page 71 of Greed

I do know that, so I nod before turning and walking out of his office.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN

Declan

As I strollinto Rook’s apartment, I’m bent over in laughter. “You actually went through with it?”

He taps one of his shiny black shoes against the hardwood of his foyer. “Damn right, I did.”

When he repeats the motion, I can’t help but point at the shoes. “Those are tap shoes.”

He stomps out an irregular beat with both feet. “I’m already practicing.”

“Jesus, you’re bad.” I shake my head. “I’m talking really bad.”

“Daddy will get the hang of it,” a sweet and familiar voice says from behind my friend. “He needs to practice. A lot.”

I push past Rook to get to Kirby.

I kneel as soon as I’m in front of the little angel. “I have something for you.”

Her eyes scan my face. “I like that.”

“You don’t know what it is yet,” I point out while I fish in my pocket for the small dog figurine I picked up at a toy store a block away.

Her small hand jumps to my jaw. “No, I like this. You kind of have a beard, Uncle Declan.”

I cover her hand with mine. “Should I keep growing it?”

She looks behind me and up into her dad’s face. “What do you think, Daddy? Mommy says boys with beards look smart and that you never had one.”

I wince while my friend lets out a fake chuckle. “Mommy said that?”

“That and other stuff.” Kirby shrugs. “I like boys with beards. You do look smart, Uncle Declan.”

“It stays for now.” I pull my hand out of my pocket and show her my closed fist. “My surprise is in here.”

Her eyes dart to my hand. “Is it a Dalmatian for my collection?”

The kid knows me too well. That was her big ask the last time I gave her one of these handcrafted figurines. They’re made of plastic, so she can’t hurt herself if she drops one.

I’ve given her twelve so far. Each is an exact miniature replica of a specific dog breed. She has them all lined up on a shelf in her bedroom since a real dog is out of the question until she’s old enough to pitch in to help with its care. That was a decision made by her parents a year ago.

I flip my hand over and open my palm.

The high-pitched squeal she lets out is like music to me.

“I love it!” she screams. “I’ll name her Spot.”

I offer it to her. “Here you go, sweetie.”

“Thank you.” She tosses her arms around my neck so she can hug me. “You’re one of my favorite uncles.”

I rate up there with Holden and Rook’s younger brother, Milo. It’s an elite group that I’m honored to be a part of.

Her gaze wanders over my shoulder. “Can I go to my room so Spot can meet her brothers and sisters?”

“Go,” Rook says. “We’ll practice dance when you’re done.”

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