Page 23 of Wooing the Wiccan
“Definitely a good look for you,” Kaelynn adds. “So… what now? When are you seeing him again?”
“Wednesday night, but he said he’d call me tonight… and he’s already texted me twice since I said bye forty minutes ago. I think he’s into me just as much as I am him.”
Kaelynn’s grin is oddly jubilant. “It really sounds like he is.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Raðulfr
TWO WEEKS LATER
I closethe browser tab in disgust. One hundred suggestions for dates, and not a single one seemed right. I suppose it’s possible that I’m being picky, but shouldn’t I be? Jared’s special. He deserves to feel like I’m putting in effort.
It’s not just me who’s being picky, either. The life force didn’t likeanyof the suggestions on that site, not even the ones I thought might be okay. Since Jared’s the first person in my life since Ásta died that the life force has taken an interest in, it’s probably a good idea to let it guide me.
I just wish it would actually guide me, instead of merely disapproving of ideas. It’s my turn to plan our date, and I have zero inspiration. We’ve already been out for a few nice dinners, some casual and some a little more upmarket, been to the cinema to make out in the back row of a movie neither of us was interested in—that was a fun experience—and to a light show at the botanic gardens. I wouldn’t have thought they’d hold something like that at this time of year, but Jared assures me they do it every year, taking advantage of the bare branchesto create something spectacular for anyone willing to brave the cold. We drank hot chocolate and wandered through the magical exhibits holding hands. After that, he’s definitely winning the date-planningnot-contest. Because adults don’t compete about things like this, and I’ve clearly been spending too much time with Brandt and his dragons if I’m thinking of it as a competition.
The part that annoys me the most is that Iknowinviting him to my home would make him so happy. We’ve stayed in at his place several times, and last weekend, I helped him do some work in his garden ahead of his spring planting plans. He’s never prodded about coming to my place, but there have been a few instances where it would have been natural for me to invite him, and I haven’t. The quickly hidden disappointment is a dead giveaway.
Eoin and the team are standing firm about this, though. They won’t agree to stay in the butler’s suite, where Jared won’t see them and ask why they’re in my home, until he knows and accepts that I’m not human. The “easy” solution to that would be to tell him, but I’m forbidden by law. Our relationship is still too new for me to qualify for the exemption that would allow me to tell him. Yes, I’m the King of the Elves, but that just makes it even more necessary for me to abide by the law. I set the example for all my people to follow—even the ones who make it difficult for me to enjoy leadership.
I offered to tell Jared I had a roommate, so that one of my guards could be in the penthouse with us. Eoin merely raised a brow and asked if I thought telling unnecessary extra lies now was going to make it go easier when I eventually reveal the truth. That was both a win and a loss—I didn’t get my way, but Eoin conceded that Jared would learn the truth one day.
Then I pointed out that when I stay at Jared’s, they’re farther from me than they would be in the butler’s suite, to which Eoinreplied, “You have no idea how close to you we actually are.” I ended the conversation at that point. It didn’t seem like I was going to win, and I definitely didn’t want him to tell me how close they get. Jared would recognize it if I spelled to create a privacy shield of some kind, so it’s better for me to just stay ignorant.
Eventually, I’ll be able to invite Jared to my penthouse. We’ll sit in the garden and talk into the wee hours, then make love in my bed looking out over this glorious world that we both love. But not for our next date.
Which brings me back to my current dilemma: What are we doing on our next date?
I sigh. It’s been a long time, so I might be misremembering, but dating never used to be this hard. I think it’s time to ask for help again.
The life force whirls around me encouragingly.
I pick up the phone on my desk and dial.
“Reception, this is Dáithí.”
“Hello, Dáithí, it’s Raðulfr. Are you terribly busy at the moment?”
“Never too busy for you, sir. Especially since I need an update on that situation we discussed last month. How can I help?”
It’s no wonder he has Eoin in knots. “Actually, if there’s someone there who can cover for you, would you join me in my office? I’d prefer neither of us was overheard.”
A drawn-in little breath tells me exactly how excited he is by the prospect of fresh secrets. “Not a problem. Give me ten minutes.”
I while away the time doing actual work, and exactly ten minutes later, there’s a knock. “Enter,” I call.
Dáithí opens the door, talking over his shoulder. “…none of your business what I’m seeing His Majesty about, Eoin. Go backto your little schedule, and if either of us wants you to know what we’re discussing, we’ll tell you.”
I catch a glimpse of Eoin’s unimpressed face as he stands in the doorway to the security office across the hall, and I smile brightly at him as Dáithí closes the door.
“I apologize for using our meeting to bait him,” he says candidly as he crosses toward me, “but he had the nerve to suggest that my clothing today is inappropriate, and I needed to take him down a peg.”
Waving him toward one of the visitor chairs, I study what he’s wearing. It looks fine to me. “What was his problem with it?”
Dáithí scoffs, but there’s an undertone of smugness when he says, “I’m wearing sexy underwear, and he said he won’t be able to get any work done remembering how it looks.”
I narrow my eyes. “He needs to be brought down more than one peg for that. Make him beg.”
