I glance up at Eggward, but putting myself at a lower point of view hasn’t made him less intimidating. I stand sharply, avoiding looking at him, and hesitantly crack the egg open. Inside is a shiny piece of silver. A key.
“What do I do with this?” I hold up what appears to be a completely normal key.
“The obvious thing.” There’s relief in Eggward’s voice. He nods toward the door. “Rosalie’s gifts are always useful, but not always this obviously so.”
“Right.” I huff a short laugh. “I told you I’m not very smart.”
“Don’t, Mina.” Eggward moves closer, so that his shadow is touching me. “Don’t speak about yourself like that.”
I shake my head trying to cast off the fuzzy feeling that appears with his proximity and lean toward the cellar door. The key slips into the lock easily. And the twists just as smoothly. I glance back at the little chicken, who is pecking self-satisfied at the ground. I reach for the door, and my fingers collide with Eggward as he also grabs the handle. I jerk my fingers back, like I’ve been burned.
“Sorry,” I mutter, feeling immediately stupid.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Eggward continues, like he hasn’t even noticed how awkward I am. Pulling the door open he climbs into the darkness below. His shadowed hood glaces back at me. “Coming?”
My heart leaps with his words. I take a deep breath and follow Eggward into the unknown.
The next couple weeks of work are exactly as gross, sweaty, and smelly as I expect them to be. I learn how to care for the chickens. We clean the coop. Expand the chicken run. Tear down fences. Chop up thick weeds. He lets me pick a new exterior color for the office building. It’s probably the most rewarding work I’ve ever done. Every night has me collapsing into bed, worn out and satisfied.
The added bonus is that I get to spend more time with Eggward. I know he spends late nights working on my dad’s house, but he doesn’t ask me to set foot in it again after the first time. Our work is sometimes quiet, but occasionally he opens up. Most of all he likes to talk about the individual chickens. Jasmine and Alice look nearly identical but are girlfriends, not sisters. Esme, the one who lays golden eggs, is best friends with Rosalie, who leaves random objects around. He keeps the leftovers in a laundry basket under his desk, just in case any of them turn out to be useful later.
Once every week or so he packs up some of the chickens for outreach and education with the community. Jasmine is too hot headed to go on these trips, but Carly and Esme love them and always go.
“These brochures are kind of old.” I say stacking the pile after one of his events.
“You could update them for me?” he offers casually.
“I’m not sure you want me to do it.” I admit. “I’m not smart enough for that sort of thing.”
“I don’t like it when you doubt your intelligence.”
“Just repeating what others said.” I try to laugh, tracing the pattern of the wood grain on the table with my eyes.
His finger meets chin, urging me to look up into the expressionless darkness where his face should be. “Why would anyone say that sort of thing to you?
“I flunked out of high school.” I say quickly. It’s like his glittering black eyes have me under a spell. “Dyslexia, dyscalculia. Some combination of them. I couldn’t get the grades. I barely got my GED.”
“And? I don’t have any kind of diploma. Do you think I’m stupid?” There’s a quiet confidence in his words.
“Of course not!” I insist. “You run your own business, you seem to have centuries of wisdom.”
“Mina, you pick things up quickly, you have learned so much while you’ve been working with me. You are intelligent, kind, and caring with the chickens. I truly believe you could do anything you set your mind to.”
“You think?” I don’t bother trying to stop the smile I feel tugging at the corners of my mouth.
“Of course you could.” His hand finally falls away from my face, but the warmth in my cheeks doesn’t leave.
I wonder if he realizes how big of a difference he’s made in my life. We’ve been working together for nearly a month and I can already see the difference in both the chicken rescue and in my own personality. It’s so much easier to get out of bed and get to work in the mornings when you have a job you actually enjoy, not to mention a hot boss. The days seem sunnier, the nights seem less lonely.
“I think it’s finished!” I say eagerly. A few days, and several false starts, later I am sitting in the Birds of a Feather office, with the design pulled up on the computer screen in front of me. “I made all the changes you asked for, and we can print out as many as we need.”
Eggward’s presence appears at my shoulder and his hand flattens against the desktop beside me as he leans in to examinemy work. The heat of his chest practically accosts my shoulder. My heart skips a little beat. There’s a long moment where the only sound is the blood rushing through my heart. It seems like eons before his low voice reaches my ear. “It looks perfect. I knew you could do it.” His voice sends a shiver up my spine, and the confidence behind it creates a warm glow deep in my chest. The warring temperatures convalescing in my torso make me realise I’m actually a complete idiot, because I’m falling in love with Eggward.
I stand suddenly, pushing my chair back from the low desk with shaking hands, which might be why I catch a large splinter on my thumb.
“Shit.” I examine the thick sliver of wood sticking out of the pad of my thumb.
“Mina.” His voice hits a gruff edge. “Are you okay?”
