Chapter Sixteen
Dáithí
Staring into my closet, I try to work out what exactly Eoin has in mind and which outfit would work best for it. Unfortunately, I can’t get his instruction of “dress nice” to line up with the fact that we’re going to a baseball game.
It’s confusing.
When he told me two days ago that the first of the dates he’d planned included the ball game this afternoon, it was both a relief and a tiny disappointment.
I do like baseball—as much as I like any sport—and I especially like getting outside in the fresh air and sunshine to perv on physically fit young men in tight pants.
There’s no downside there. Eoin’s picked something that he knows we’ll both enjoy, which is the point of all this, isn’t it? I guess I just thought…
Honestly, I don’t know what I thought. This is a good, solid start.
But it still leaves me with the dilemma of what to wear. Jeans—or shorts, if it’s hot enough—and a tee are my usual choices in situations like this, but Eoin said I’d regret it if I wore that.
Turning around, I ask Elsking, who’s exploring my bed, “It has to be jeans, right? Even if he’s planning to go somewhere fancy for dinner after, he can’t expect me to wear dress pants to a ball game.”
She grunts and burrows her head under my pillow, and I smile. I’ve only had her two days, but already it feels like she’s always been here. I was right to adopt again—it’s been too long.
“Chinos, maybe?” I muse. “But that still feels pretentious.”
Her hindquarters quiver, and I resist the temptation to go over and stroke her. I already spent half the morning loving on her, and it won’t be fair to either of us if I start again when I have to leave in…
I glance at my watch. Twenty minutes. Fuck.
“Jeans,” I tell her decisively. “But nice ones. And a going-out shirt. If it’s still not nice enough for dinner, I can come home and change first.” I grab my best jeans, the ones I wear to casual work functions.
There are no strategically placed rips or studs, but they are indecently tight.
It’s not in me to own a pair of jeans that don’t show off my assets.
I have a pair of rhinestone-studded Converse that manage to walk the line of being both casual and dressy, which just leaves the shirt…
When Eoin said “nice,” did he mean “meeting the boss” nice or “exclusive gay nightclub” nice? Because those are very different things.
In the end I settle on a slim-fitting button-up shirt with a boldly colored repeating pattern of tiny peacocks.
The buttons are blue rhinestones, and I leave them half undone to show the tight blue tee underneath, and roll my sleeves halfway to my elbows.
It’s not supposed to be too warm today, so hopefully I’ll be okay.
“Dáithí?” Eoin calls. “Nearly ready?”
I didn’t even hear him come in. “Yeah. Do I need a hat?” I hope not. My hair looks great today.
He hesitates. “Bring one.”
Blech. Luckily, I have a really cute blinged-out ball cap that goes with these shoes. I grab it, then carefully lift Elsking from where she’s snoozing halfway under my pillow.
Out in the living room, Eoin turns away from snooping through my mail, his smile fading into something hot. “You look great.”
I twirl—gently, because I don’t want to startle my bunny. “Oh yeah? How great?” My eyes narrow as I take him in. “And why did I have to dress nice, but you’re wearing jeans and a jersey?”
He comes to take Elsking from me. “Because I don’t care what people think of what I wear, but you do.”
I’m still puzzling through what that could possibly mean in the context of a baseball game when he gently lays her in her hutch, giving her a few soft pets before he latches it closed.
So far, he’s been amazing about me having spontaneously added a pet to the equation.
It’s only been a couple of days, but he hasn’t complained even once about us staying here instead of at his place, or about the fact that I didn’t want to go out last night in case she got lonely.
And at the pet store the other night, he was the one who spent twenty minutes comparing the hutches they had and talking to the salesman about which one would be best for her.
None of that means he wants to stay with me forever, but it does show how much he cares.
By the time we get to the stadium, the whole area is packed. “Where are our seats?” I ask, heading for the entrance. To my surprise, he grabs my hand and leads me around the outside of the stadium. “Where are we going?”
The answer to that is a door marked “Suites and Corporate.” My brows shoot up as Eoin hands over two passes for the staff member to scan.
“Thank you so much,” she says. “If you head inside and up the escalator to the left, someone will be able to give you directions from there. Enjoy the game.”
“We definitely will,” Eoin tells her while I mentally try to catch up.
As soon as we’re inside, I demand, “Did you get us VIP seats or something?” That’s so sweet, but really unnecessary. I can watch the game from—
“Sort of. We’re in one of the luxury suites with a bunch of rich people who like to boast about their lives.”
I freeze with one foot on the escalator, trip, and would have face-planted if not for Eoin catching me. “Whoa, are you okay?”
Meeting his gaze, I ask slowly, “Are you saying I get to watch tight asses in snug pants while listening to people gossip?”
He grins. “There’s food, too.”
The sound that escapes my throat might be a squeal, and I throw my arms around his neck and give him a squeeze. “Best— Oof!”
The escalator fucks with me again, and this time I stagger a few feet before regaining my balance. Turning to glare at it, I say, “Note to self: Do not ever get distracted around one of those things.”
Eoin’s trying not to laugh, but I wouldn’t care if he did. I lean up to kiss him. “You’re an amazing date planner.”
Pink washes into his cheeks. “I’d do anything for you. Let’s just hope it goes the way I planned it.”
A few minutes later, the suite steward is pointing out where everything is, and I honestly don’t think this could go wrong.
There’s a man passing around canapes on a tray, for one thing, and a self-serve bar set up on a counter.
Those are already big wins. There are a couple of sofas and chairs, but the far end of the suite opens into the stadium and has three rows of seats in a box with a fantastic view of the field.
We’re only a little to the left of home plate.
“…he said they were old friends, can you believe that? As if anyone staying at an old friend’s home just wanders around naked if there’s nothing going on.”
My ears perk up, and I follow the sound of the words to a group of three people clustered a few feet away. Two are women, but it’s the man who was speaking. All of them are dressed to impress, baseball-game-style. I love it.
“Eoin?” a voice says, and I drag my attention back. “And this must be Dáithí.” The man who’s come to speak to us is tall, with dark hair that’s beginning to go silver and an air of authority. He’s wearing chinos and a dress shirt, but somehow manages to seem like he’s wearing a suit.
“Yes. It’s good to meet you, Dr. Rafter,” Eoin says, extending his hand to shake.
“Please call me Vin. I was so pleased when Dr. Griffiths—Rhys—said someone at the DEA wanted to join us today. We’re all very excited about his research and the partnership we’ve built with you.”
Ohhhhh. My heart melts just a little. Eoin’s thrown himself under a political bus to get me this experience.
“Rhys’s work is groundbreaking,” he agrees. “My king is always looking for ways to better the lives of his people.”
Dr. Rafter—Vin—seizes on that opening. “He might be interested in the work Dr. Leighton is doing. Come and meet her.”
Tossing me a wink, Eoin lets himself be drawn away. Once I’ve helped myself to a drink, I wander over to hover near the gossiping trio, hoping it’s not too late to hear more about the naked old friend.
“…she’s talking about getting Botox like she’s human. Um, hello? Doesn’t she realize she doesn’t have human metabolism?” The woman speaking, who I’m pretty sure is a succubus, rolls her eyes and lifts her drink to her lips. When she lowers it again, her gaze falls on me. “Hello. I love that shirt.”
Her friends turn to see who she’s talking to, and I smile as I step forward to join them. “Thank you. I’m Dáithí, and please don’t think I’m rude, but I’m dying to know what happened with the naked old friend.”
There’s a split-second pause while their brains recalibrate, and then they break into giggles. “Oh, darling, we don’t think you’re rude at all.”
It’s halfway through the first inning, and my new friends and I have moved outside to the box seats before Eoin finally breaks free and comes to find me. I startle and nearly spill my drink when he slides into the seat beside me.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean to scare you. All good?”
I lean over to kiss him, buoyed by my enjoyment of the day, how absolutely delicious he is, and the fact that I’m on my third drink.
The stadium might only provide human alcohol, but Faith, one of my new besties, brought a flask of some kind of spirits that her cousin’s company makes, and it’s definitely not human-grade.
“All great,” I assure him. “This is the best date I’ve ever been on—or it would be, if you stayed here with me. ”
The utter joy in his smile warms me from the inside out. “That’s the plan. I didn’t mean for us to be separated this long.” He glances at my glass. “Can I get you another drink? Or something to eat? The steward said he can get us hot dogs, if we want.”
“Hot dogs?” I feel myself light up. “Yes. That was the one thing missing. I’ll have two with everything and another one of these.” I hold my glass out to him. “I think it was the blue bottle and the one with the pink label.”
He takes it with a wry look. “How about a beer instead? That tastes better with hot dogs.”
He’s so right. “Perfect.” I grab the front of his jersey and pull him in for another kiss. “Mm. You taste best of all.”
“Excuse me, Dáithí’s honey of love? Hi. I’m Pamela.”
We both turn our heads to see my new friend Pammie tiddling her fingers at Eoin in a wave. “Is the hot dog offer open to the rest of us?”
Eoin grins. “Hi, Pamela. I’m Eoin, and yes. I’m happy to pass your order along.”
They all gush their thanks, and once he has everyone’s order, he winks at me and stands. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
As much as I respect Eoin, I have to admit to objectifying him hard in that moment, because his ass in those jeans as he walks away is a work of art. It’s so unfair—they’re not even special going-out jeans or anything, just his everyday ones.
“Mm-hm, Dáithí. You sure got lucky with him,” Ned says, not even bothering to keep his voice down. Eoin’s chuckle floats back to us as he reenters the suite.
“He’s pretty amazing.” I can’t hide the wistful note in my voice, and they all pounce on it immediately.
“Why does that make you sad?” Faith demands, lowering her sunglasses to peer at me over the top of them. The actual diamonds studded into the frames wink in the sunlight.
I shake my head. “I’m not sad. Eoin’s incredible and I’m pretty sure I’d be in love with him if I could let myself. But I don’t want to get hurt, so I’m taking it slow.” I barely know these people, tipsy or not, so that’s the most I’m willing to share with them.
Ned scoffs. “Sweetie, just dive in and worry about getting hurt if it actually happens. Our lives might be longer than human ones, but that’s no reason to second-guess everything.”
Pammie makes an agreeing sound. “Holding back from a man that hot who looks at you the way he does just because you might get hurt later is stupid. If he crooked his finger at me, I’d be all in, fuck the consequences.” She glances over her shoulder toward the suite. “Don’t tell my husband that.”
We break out into giggles, and I force myself to take their feedback on board.
I’m putting Eoin through this because I’ve been hurt before, but I’m still here, aren’t I?
It would devastate me if Eoin walked away…
but losing time I could spend with him would be just as bad, though in a different way.
The question is, which would be worse?