Page 60 of The Bossy One

“Then relax and enjoy yourself,” Molly said firmly. “You deserve something fun.”

I’d barely hung up the phone when there was a soft knock on my bedroom door.

My stomach flipped.

“Olivia?” Declan said, his voice soft and low so as not to wake Catie. “Meet me in the backyard when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” I said.

I dabbed on some minimal makeup, scooped up my curls into a high ponytail, and went outside to see what Declan had planned.

When I took a step out back onto the patio, I gasped. Out in the garden, Declan had set up a gorgeous, candlelit picnic. He was dressed in a white button up and black slacks, but his rolled-up sleeves and bare feet kept the overall vibe casual and intimate, despite the designer clothes. He belonged here, in this twilight garden that looked like something out of a fairy tale. He was anchored in this land, in this community, and I was just passing through.

Light and fun, I reminded myself.

“This is beautiful,” I said, as I approached the picnic.

“Don’t be too impressed,” Declan said. “Maeve made everything, and a friend who works in decorating did the rest.”

I slipped off my sandals and stepped onto the red cashmere picnic blanket. “So you didn’t personally scatter all these white rose petals? There goes my sex drive.”

“I take it back,” Declan lied, his smile boyish and wicked. “If décor does it for you, then I placed each rose petal by hand. Grew them too.”

I laughed.

We stood there looking at each other for a moment, not sure how to proceed. The moment felt achingly fragile.

“Christ, you’re beautiful,” Declan said into the silence.

I blushed, avoiding eye contact as I sat down and arranged myself on the picnic blanket. “You see me every day.”

“I think it every day,” he countered, joining me on the blanket.

Breathing felt suddenly difficult.

Declan cocked his head. “Olivia, do you not know you’re ravishing?”

“Could I have some of that wine?” I blurted, gesturing to the bottle he had propped against the picnic basket.

His smile went crooked. He uncorked the wine and poured me a glass. “So you can’t take a compliment. What else don’t I know about you?”

I thought about the book review blog I ran on Snug. A part of me wanted to tell him because I thought he’d get a kick out of it, given how much he loved reading to Catie. But ever since that bad experience with Eddie, I’d kept a kind of firewall in place—none of my real-life friends knew about my online hobby.

“Nothing important,” I answered him. “I’m just me.”

“Well.” Declan held up his own glass in a toast. “Here’s to ‘just you.’ The woman who wrecked my peace and saved my summer.Sláinte.”

“Sláinte,” I repeated, his compliments going to my head faster than the wine.

We talked for a while, about my impression of Ireland, and his plans for the garden, and a company he was thinking of acquiring in Prague. He told me funny stories about growing up in Ballybeith, including a prank he and some other boys had played with a sheep at a football game.

I was still laughing when he opened the basket and started setting out one dessert after another. Cream puffs, strawberry shortcake, lavender ice cream, chocolate tart, and tiramisu. “I didn’t know what you liked best,” Declan explained.

“You could have asked,” I said.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he teased, popping a cream puff into his own mouth.

I tried the lavender ice cream first, because, hello,ice cream.It had begun to melt a bit while we talked, but it was still delicious.

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