Chapter Eleven
Eoin
The sight of Dáithí’s sexy flush makes my whole day so much better. Of course, it started feeling less like a tragedy when he walked in the door, proving that he hadn’t changed his mind, and then went all fierce protector on me, worrying that I might have been hurt.
He loves me. I know he does. He’s just scared of being hurt.
It breaks my heart that he doesn’t know I’d rather die a thousand painful deaths than cause him a moment of grief, but I can understand how it might be hard for him to accept that someone with my track record suddenly wants forever.
Words are easy in situations like this, which is why I’m hoping this challenge will back them up with actions.
Ari might have been unhappy with the idea of more than one test, but I welcome the chance to show, over and over, that I’m not the same fuckboy—to use an Earth term—that I used to be.
I’m older. I’ve been through a lot, and watched the people close to me go through it too.
I’ve lost so many friends, I can’t count, even though their faces haunt me.
I’ve seen my people establish new lives, safe at last to exist and love…
and I want that too. I want the security of this new home and a love I can rely on.
But the only person I want it with is Dáithí. I won’t settle for anyone else. So I’ll happily complete any test set to prove that and win my future.
“The tasks,” Andrew Turner announces, then turns to Hagen, who’s been quiet since his inadvertent blunder. “The handouts, if you please.”
“There are handouts?” Brandt asks. “This is fascinating. Are there diagrams on these handouts?”
Caolan takes a stack of paper from Hagen and passes it to Alistair. “No. The diagrams are in my presentation.” He sniffs, clearly not happy.
“For the love of god,” Noah mutters, then adds, louder, “You can email everyone a copy, okay?”
The sulky frown disappears from Caolan’s face. “Okay!”
There’s a chance this may be getting out of Dáithí’s and my control, but I can’t make myself care when all my focus is needed to achieve my goal.
I take the remaining handouts from Ari, keep one, and pass the few that are left to Dáithí, who glares at them like they’re radioactive and hands them off as fast as he can.
Interesting… and concerning.
It only takes one glance to see what annoys Dáithí: the heading. I press my lips together to keep from laughing.
“Summit of Love: The Epic Challenge,” Brandt reads, triggering a cascade of chuckles and chortles. “A Herculean trial to win the heart of an elf,” he continues, and a snort manages to escape me.
Dáithí’s elbow makes contact with my ribs. “Don’t laugh,” he hisses. “You’ll encourage them.”
I aim a skeptical glance around the table. The only people not laughing, aside from me and Dáithí, are Team Bro, who wear beatific smiles. “I think it’s too late for that.”
“What does ‘herculean’ mean?” Niamh asks. “I haven’t heard that word before.”
“Very powerful or difficult,” Alistair explains. “Have you heard about the mythological Greek hero, Hercules?”
Niamh’s face brightens. “Yes! He has some cameo appearances on Xena: Warrior Princess.”
I don’t know what that is, but if it’s connected to this challenge, maybe I need to watch it.
“Someone save me from the nineties,” Noah mutters.
Alistair ignores him. “That’s a great show!
Hercules was, like, a demigod—the head god, Zeus, couldn’t keep it in his pants, and Hercules happened one of those times.
Though I think his name got changed, because sometimes people say Heracles.
Anyway, a bunch of stuff happened, none of it good, and Hercules ended up being assigned twelve tasks—the Labors of Hercules—to make up for it.
Or something. So we figured we could base Eoin’s tasks on that. ”
“Loosely, though,” Andrew adds. “Very loosely.”
“Yeah.” Hagen pulls a face. “There was a lot of slaying, capturing, and stealing on that list. We weren’t on board with that.”
“Neither am I,” Raeulfr says.
I fold my arms and add, “Nor me.” Unless it’s that delivery guy who always flirts with Dáithí. I wouldn’t slay him, exactly, but he might think I was going to. I side-eye Dáithí and wonder if that would make him mad. Does he like having the delivery guy’s attention?
Ari’s moved on, studying the paper. “There aren’t twelve tasks on this list.”
“Pfft.” Alistair waves that off. “We did say it was loosely based.”
Dáithí scoffs and mutters, “Yeah, loosely like they’re both a bunch of tasks.” He glances over at me and rolls his eyes, and the last of my anxiety settles.
“Okay, let’s go through this,” I declare, skimming over the list. It’s not what I expected.
“Why do two of these only say ‘redacted’?” Brandt asks before I can. “Is it a secret? Why? Most of us have the highest security clearance available. I want to know the secret.”
“They’ve been redacted because Eoin knowing what they are will impact the outcome,” Jared volunteers. “That’s all.”
I’m not sure I like the sound of that. “How am I supposed to complete them if I don’t know what they are?”
“And how are we supposed to assess his completion of them if we don’t know what they are?” Ari adds. He’s found a pen somewhere and is making notes.
“Eoin’s support team will be sent the complete list. We trust you not to betray the sanctity of your role by sharing it with him,” Caolan informs him. “All I need is the names of everyone on Eoin’s team.”
“Me,” Ari and Niamh say at the same time.
“You’re on Dáithí’s team?” Raeulfr asks Jared, who nods. “Then I’ll be on Eoin’s.”
“I’m on Eoin’s too.” Brandt rubs his hands together. “And so is Steffen.”
“What? No.”
“Yes,” Brandt insists, and when Steffen starts to protest, he adds, “I’ll tell Dustin you’re voluntarily joining in on a social activity so he stops nagging you about it.”
Steffen stops arguing so sharply, it’s as if the words were stolen from his mouth. “Fine.”
“Great!” Alistair exclaims. “Who wants Team Success wristbands?” He holds up a handful of bright pink thick rubber bands, and hands go up around the table.
I watch in disbelief as they’re passed around. “This is great for all of you, but I’m still worried about not knowing what those two tasks are.” What if I never even start them? I can’t do something if I don’t know about its existence.
Hagen looks me in the eye across the table. “Trust me. It’ll be fine. I’d never screw a bro over.”
He wouldn’t. Not when it comes to something this important. Stealing snack foods and almost setting the kitchen on fire, on the other hand, were things he used to do regularly.
“Dáithí means more to me than cupcakes,” I remind him, just in case.
“I know,” he replies, just as Dáithí says, “What?”
I pat his knee. “Don’t worry about it. I’d never let him steal you.”
“The list,” Noah begs. “Please, can we stick to the list?”
With one last smile for Dáithí, I turn my attention back to the handout. Fine, I’ll trust Hagen and not worry about the two redacted items. That leaves—
“Plan and execute a series of dates,” Niamh reads. “Not gonna lie, this one’s a disappointment. Don’t they already go on dates? Along with everyone else who’s interested in romance?”
“How many dates is ‘a series’?” Ari asks.
Plan and execute. That’s the key phrase for this task.
Sure, Dáithí and I go on dates—out for dinner, to bars, to other places and events that interest us.
The occasional theater production, concert, or movie.
Whatever we’re in the mood for at any given time.
If I’m interpreting this task correctly, it isn’t that.
Aside from our first date—the one that didn’t happen, and also the one to make up for it—we haven’t been on any formal dates.
After that first night together, Dáithí laid down his “casual” law, and we switched gears into what we have now.
So this task is about me knowing Dáithí, his likes and dislikes, and deliberately putting something together to show that.
I think.
“That’s up to Eoin,” Andrew is saying. “More than one, obviously, but otherwise it’s completely his decision.”
I grab Ari’s pen and scrawl a note for myself. Dáithí’s a social person, but he also likes structure and routine. It’s part of what makes him so good at his job. If I planned half a dozen dates to take place over two weeks, he wouldn’t be happy.
“Okay, next?” I ask. I think I’ve got a handle on the first one.
Ari protests. “I have questions—”
“No, you don’t.” I give him a warning look. Having a support team is one thing, and I’m grateful for it. Letting them take over isn’t happening. “If questions come up, can I ask later?” I check.
“Of course.” Dáithí answers before anyone else can. “Anytime.”
“Then let’s move on to the next task.” I look back at the list. “Take a shift at Dáithí’s job. Does that mean you wouldn’t be there?” I ask him. “I’m not qualified to do your job.”
He sucks in a little breath, and his eyes go soft.
“Awww,” someone breathes, and when I turn, I see all four members of Team Bro grinning widely. Caolan writes something down.
“Huh?” Niamh asks, and Ari nods.
“What she said.”
“We’ll discuss it later,” Jared tells them, but he and Noah are smiling too. I mentally replay what I said. There was nothing special there, but something caught their attention.
They wouldn’t be smiling if it was a bad sign for me. One thing I’ve become sure of since this conversation began is that we’re all on the same side and want the same outcome.
“Dáithí won’t be there,” Hagen says, “but you’ll be given a training manual beforehand on basic processes and how the equipment works.
You’ll also have written instructions and access to another experienced receptionist if questions come up.
Dáithí insisted.” He directs the last part to Raeulfr and Brandt.
“He didn’t want to disrupt the office too much. ”
“Who cares?” Brandt proclaims. “This is more important than the office!”
The king sighs and shakes his head. “Thank you,” he tells Dáithí.
“I don’t understand how Eoin doing Dáithí’s job for one day is going to prove his commitment.” Steffen’s frown is fierce.
I nod. “Yes. Could I have some context, please?”
Team Bro collectively shakes their heads. “No. Your team will be given the details they need for assessment, but no further context on this task is available to you,” Caolan says. “Sorry.”
Fuck. This is probably another of those situations where knowing details will impact my actions. I’m going to need to pay close attention in that training session—something they tell me will be what they assess me on. I scrawl another note.
“Okay, next… Clean Dáithí’s apartment?” I turn to him. “Every week for the rest of our lives, or—”
“Just once for the assessment,” he assures me, and I shrug.
“Done.”
“This list is nothing like what I expected,” Ari mutters, taking his pen back to write something down.
“This last one is interesting,” Raeulfr muses. “Surprise Dáithí.”
Interesting isn’t the word I’d choose. “As in… buy him a gift? Or leap out of the closet yelling?”
“No further context on this task is available to you,” Caolan informs me. That probably means that the decision I make about what constitutes a surprise is as much a factor in assessment as the surprise itself. Some of my earlier anxiety comes back.
I exhale deeply and nod. “Thank you. I can work with this.” Ari’s not the only one who wasn’t expecting a list like this, but at least it’s not an impossible open-ended task, like moving every grain of sand on a beach.
These seem to be targeted, and while I could opt to take as long as I want with them, I could also finish them within a week if I chose.
The ones I know about, anyway.
It’s fine. I’ve got this. I’m going to prove to Dáithí that our happy ever after is inevitable.