Page 40 of Enticing the Elf
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 abox with a fantastic view of the field. We’re only a little to the left of home plate.
“…he said they wereold 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.
