Negative Distance: My Ex Becomes My Boss!-Chapter 211: A Surprise for Declan Hawthorne

Chapter 211: Chapter 211: A Surprise for Declan Hawthorne

Poppy Hale swore.

She didn’t mean it like that.

She simply thought Old Master Hawthorne was getting on in years, and a midnight phone call might mean something was wrong.

The thought of Old Master waiting up so late troubled her.

Her wrist strained, pressing against Declan Hawthorne’s chest as she urged him.

"You go call first, see what Grandpa wants, then come back. It’s the same."

Seeing him not moving, Poppy even gave him a little kick.

Sitting on the sink, her position allowed only her to kick Declan’s thigh.

Declan lowered his head; his deep eyes cast downwards, envied for their fan-like dense lashes.

In this regard, Declan inherited Jackie Barrett’s genes and passed them on to Florence Lynch.

But men with dense lashes often also have vigorous hormones, growing eyebrows, beards, and hair wildly.

Declan’s beard, if not shaved for a day, would prick.

Poppy reached out to touch his chin.

The touch was a bit prickly, revealing a layer of tiny stubbles.

Poppy kicked him again, "Go make the call, and when you return, I’ll help shave your beard."

Declan grasped her restless ankle.

He’s been so busy lately that the little bit of flesh gained has dwindled again, leaving the ankle devoid of flesh.

Holding it, the heel tendon was distinctly visible.

Declan looked up at her.

"Shaving at night makes no sense."

Getting up tomorrow morning, it’ll need cleaning again anyway.

He wasn’t free enough to shave morning and night.

"Then I’ll help you shave tomorrow morning."

"You can get up?"

Poppy was a bit annoyed at how this man talked so much and dragged things out.

"Forget it if you don’t want it."

When she pouts, she’s particularly beautiful, eyes and brows tinged with displeasure, lips slightly puckered, instantly satisfying Declan’s intentional provocation.

He chuckled softly, bending to kiss her face.

"Wait for me."

He liked when Poppy showed harmless little fits, like fluffed-up cats, soothing them did the trick. But that bit of temper nourished his heart.

Seeing her indifferent, not caring, contrasted sharply with the distant, polite version of Poppy—one he didn’t favor.

The bathroom door opened and closed.

Outside, conversations between Declan Hawthorne and the housekeeper were heard, along with the sound of his footsteps down the stairs.

By the time Poppy finished bathing, Declan hadn’t returned yet.

The small building had only two floors and a little rooftop. Below, the yard was planted with a stretch of roses, and Poppy stood upstairs looking down.

Declan stood in the snow, on the phone.

So cold, yet he was out making a call.

Clearly, whatever the Old Master said had ignited Declan’s anger enough to require cooling off outside.

Declan casually donned a black coat. The coat’s hem bore an apple sticker Florence had pasted at some point.

Especially striking in the night.

Poppy felt a stir in her heart.

She remembered when Justin Hawthorne said Declan loved climbing apple trees as a child.

Picking up the phone, Poppy reached out to a garden master.

"Hi, I’d like to order an apple tree, about ten meters high. Do you have them in stock?"

The other party repeatedly confirmed the order; apple trees are easy to find, but a large one might take some time.

The price wouldn’t be cheap either.

After confirming the approximate price, Poppy ordered an apple tree to be airlifted from the Southwest.

Let it serve as a New Year’s gift for Declan Hawthorne.

Poppy yawned, picking up the device to check Finn Young’s backend.

Since she appeared at the Hawthorne Group’s press conference last time, her fan count soared, and manuscript requests flooded in like snowflakes.

Many from outside said they had long seen Finn Young’s drawings, only just learning they were his.

Finn Young’s fame was far beyond what Poppy imagined.

The commission requests piled up like a mountain.

Patiently, Poppy selected a few projects she excelled at and was interested in, communicated timelines with the clients, and took the jobs.

After handling the manuscripts, Poppy sent out recent drawings she created during free time.

One reason Finn Young maintained popularity was due to Poppy’s genuine love for drawing.

She used all her free time to draw, sketch outlines, create new pictures and share them.

Progress was evident in every drawing.

Fans claimed that a person’s fearsome attribute was both talent and effort combined.

After posting the drawing, Poppy went offline.

Turning to the canvas, she began outlining the commissioned work but hadn’t finished sketching when Declan came up from downstairs.

He was covered in snow.

It was unclear how long he had been standing below, resembling a snowman.

Seeing Poppy intending to rise, Declan declined, "Don’t come over, I’m cold, let me shower first."

Poppy checked the time.

He’d been on the phone for an hour; how could he not be cold?

She got up from bed, went downstairs to the kitchen, switched on the gas, planning to cook ginger soup for Declan to ward off the chill.

Hearing movement, the housekeeper hurried over.

"Ma’am, why don’t you let me handle it? I’ll cook it for you."

"No need, it’s only ginger soup for Declan. I’ll head up afterwards."

The housekeeper saw Poppy’s actions didn’t seem entirely unfamiliar with cooking, so assisted alongside.

Poppy opened the fridge while the housekeeper quickly tidied up, ensuring everything was neat.

After finishing cooking, Declan came down, towel-drying his hair. Inside was warm with ample floor heating, so he wore silk pajamas descending.

Poppy handed him the soup, "Drink this, or you’ll catch a cold tomorrow."

The housekeeper nearby immediately spoke up.

"Sir, Madam personally came down to cook for you. I offered to help, but she insisted sincerity in making the soup was vital for dispelling the chill!"

Poppy: "...Huh?"

Did she say that?

Despite his skepticism, Declan was convinced, quickly drinking the slightly hot soup.

A rare smile appeared on his face.

"Thanks, honey."

The last time he smiled like this was on the day they registered their marriage.

All this over just a bowl of soup?

The housekeeper cheerfully went to tidy the kitchen, "Mr. and Mrs. should rest, I’ll handle it here."

The small building currently had two housekeepers, one for kitchen duties, the other managing daily tidiness.

With not many people around, Poppy felt at ease.

Just as they ascended, Declan pressed against her from behind.

The silk pajamas were slippery as he embraced her, causing her to slide downward.

His hand slipped through her waist, directly lifting her towards the bedroom and bed.

Having just consumed ginger soup, Declan felt heat throughout.

Poppy, meanwhile, asked, "What did Grandpa say?"

Declan cast a glance at her, "You’re stalling for time?"

"I’m concerned about you."

"Rather than worrying uselessly, cooperate with me a bit more."

The night was still long.

Outside, the snow fell even harder, except inside, warmth lingered.

Early the next day.

When Poppy rose, Declan had already brought Florence over from the main building for a family breakfast.

Florence looked at Declan, "Dad, you haven’t shaved."

Declan’s eyes rested on Poppy, a meaningful glance.

"That’s your mom’s task, she’ll handle it herself."