Always Choose Dare

Chapter 11 - Hot and Strong

If Daire wants to take me to breakfast, I have just the place! There is a fabulous cafe nearby that has the most amazing breakfast foods and coffee, as well as quite the lineup of handsome servers. Whenever I go, one in particular always hits on me. It might do Daire some good to see that not every man on this planet is as shallow as he is about my scar, even if my experiences have shown that some men are.

As we enter the café, the flirty server sees me from across the restaurant and waves at me. I, of course, would normally just give him a slight smile and head tilt; but today, I give him a thousand-watt smile and wave like he is my long-lost love. The hostess asks how many of us will be in our party, and I answer and ask to sit in Miles’ section. She seats us quickly, and I lift my menu as soon as we are sitting.

“Hello, hello! And good morning to you! I’m Miles, and I will be your server today. Would you two gentlemen like any help with the menu or need to hear about our specials? I know Star is already well-informed of our daily specials,” he says, giving me quite a swoon-worthy smile.

It’s not that Miles is unattractive or anything. He is a bit over six feet tall, lean and muscular, and has dazzling blue eyes with naturally golden blond hair. His chiseled jaw and dimples make most girls soak their panties as soon as he walks up to their tables; but for me, I just never could go on that first date that he has asked me on repeatedly. It isn’t a judgment on his lifestyle; I just can’t seem to bring myself to the point of being okay with sharing my partner. Miles is bisexual and looking for a girlfriend to add to his relationship that he is already in with his boyfriend. While that is a dream scenario for many women, it just isn’t what I want. Ever since Dora told me about mates, I knew I would be monogamous with my partner.

I place my menu on the table and look at Daire and his friend.

“I think we can find something here that will suffice. Thank you,” Daire replies to Miles.

“Hot and strong, Star?” Miles asks and winks at me.

“You know me well!” I say demurely, smiling flirtatiously in response.

“Be right back with that!”

When Miles is a good bit away, Daire clears his throat.

“Friend of yours?”

“Oh, Miles has just been a little flirty since I moved here a couple of years ago. He is still trying to convince me to be the cream in his sandwich cookie, if you know what I mean.”

“Actually, I don’t. What does that mean?”

Daire’s eyebrows furrow, and his friend looks concerned.

“Oh, well, Miles is bi. He already has a long-term boyfriend, and he has been interested in dating me, so I can be his girlfriend. His boyfriend is willing to allow the addition for Miles’ preferences,” I state factually, doing my best to keep my face blank.

Daire looks as though he is both fascinated and furious at the same time. It’s a bit of an odd reaction, and I do my best to not show my amusement!

“Is that what you want?” He asks in a strained voice while attempting to smile.

It’s a struggle, but I suppress my laughter. How could I have known this would get under his skin like this? Maybe it’s because of his mate talk yesterday - when he rejected me!

“Well, I haven’t really decided just yet. I mean, he is so good-looking, as is his boyfriend, but I just don’t know if I’m pretty enough to be part of their trio.”

I sigh and look out the window in a little fake pout.

His friend’s whispering catches my attention, so I turn my head back to look at them. I couldn’t quite hear what he was saying, but I could tell it was intense, and I could have sworn I heard him call Daire ‘Alpha’, just like in my books. Daire closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, but the veins in his neck still bulge when he opens his eyes again.

“Hot and strong,” Miles chirps as he places the cup of coffee in front of me. Cheerfully, he asks, “Are you ready to order?”

“Yes! I would like the farm stand egg bowl, with double veggies, please,” I reply politely, then look at the two men seated across from me.

“We’ll both have the bacon avocado breakfast burritos, please, with two extra scrambled eggs and southwestern quinoa as sides. Thank you,” Daire’s friend responds. “And the water is sufficient for drinking.”

Miles gives him a mock salute and takes our menus. He slips his order pad into his back pocket, and I pretend as though I am checking his ass out with interest. Honestly, it’s a little disappointing. I prefer more rounded muscles than the tiny cheeks Miles is sporting.

“Whenever you are ready, I would really like the opportunity to discuss my mother,” Daire’s voice pulls me away from staring at Miles.

I look into his eyes, eyes the same orangey-gold hue as Dora’s, which I looked into as I cried, laughed, and shared many a secret. I have to admit, it’s hard to believe that this man could be her son, yet in all my life I’ve never seen anyone else with eyes that resembled sourwood honey the way Dora’s and Daire’s do.

“My mother disappeared from our home against her will when I was a very young child. My father and the authorities searched the world for her, but we never found her. Knowing that she lived is a great relief for me! That being said, I would very much like to see her if possible.”

His voice breaks on the last word as tears form in his lower eyelids.

Fuck. He may be an ass, but here I was trying to exact my revenge for yesterday when he just wants to see his mother. Dora was never my own mother, but I always wished she were. I cannot imagine the pain he must have gone through to have her taken from him at a young age!

Yep. We might be even now — he was an ass, and now I’ve been one as well.

“I’m sorry. How about a truce? At least through breakfast?” I say.

“Or better yet, we can just start over completely. I’m Daire Ó Faoláin and this is my…colleague, Marek Pietch. We are visiting this area for research. Honestly, the last thing I ever expected was to see that ring.”

“As you probably know, I’m Star Knightly. I grew up in the capital and because of my parents’ positions, I was raised by a nanny - Dora. I never knew her last name, nor anything regarding her life outside of her time spent with me. My parents hired her shortly after I was born, and let her go when I was ten years old, as my father had decided I was then old enough to stay home alone while they traveled the world for their work.”

I do my best to keep my voice neutral, but I could hear my bitterness when bringing up my father.

“I’m sorry,” Daire says, meeting my eyes with his.

I don’t know if it’s because they remind me so much of Dora’s eyes, but I actually believe him.

“It’s okay. I mean, if Dora is your mother, it probably doesn’t make you feel any better to know she was raising someone else’s child when she was away from you. I feel like I should apologize for that.”

“No. I mean, you would think it would hurt more, but I had a loving father to help me through it and to accompany me through the following years. It seems like when she left you, you had no one. That's more tragic,” he says quietly.

Like Dora, his eyes show no sign of pity, but express a compassion and understanding so strongly it’s nearly palpable.

“Yeah,” my voice comes out weaker than intended.

I clear my throat and tuck in my emotions.

“I’m used to being alone. Now, I kind of prefer it.”

Am I trying to convince him or myself? How has this breakfast gone from me teaching him a lesson to me feeling completely exposed?

“So, do you have contact with my mother at all? Or possibly a way to find her?” He asks softly.

Maybe I'm not the only one feeling vulnerable.

“I don’t have contact with her. As I said, my father dismissed her when I turned ten. I begged him for years to find her so I could at least write her letters and invite her to my graduations, but he never provided me with any contact information for her. He wasn’t supportive of allowing my relationship with Dora to continue.”

I didn’t even try to hide my bitterness this time.

“I’m sorry,” Daire mutters.

He fiddles with his napkin a minute, seeming to process the information, then continues, “Why would he not want you to have a relationship with my mother?”

I huff and roll my eyes.

“He hated that she encouraged my writing and that she’d read to me from her fairytale books. He felt I wasn’t receiving the academic input from her books that I would need to become a person of worth. Besides that, I made matters worse the night before my tenth birthday, when I talked back to my parents and told them that I had always wished Dora were my mother and that they would just be distant relatives, if not strangers.”

I looked down at my lap and shook my head, trying to rein in my anger. I looked back at Daire, who was studying me.

“Dora understood what I went through as a child. She walked me through the bullying, the torment I endured at the hands of my peers, the torture of knowing that my parents only saw me as a stain on their pristine lives. She nursed me to health after every surgery, helped me to relearn how to speak well after each time they reshaped my mouth to fix the cleft. My parents did nothing to make me feel anything but broken. Any good thing about me is the result of Dora’s love and care.”

I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to, but I shared too deeply and tears are now racing each other down my cheeks.

Daire reaches across the table and brushes the tears from my cheeks. His warm hands feel almost healing on my skin, and I nearly choke on the cries trying to escape my throat.

“I am so sorry, Star.”

Just then, Miles and a waitress approach our table with our plates of food. While I no longer want to keep up the facade of flirting with Miles, I do welcome the interruption. I don’t know Daire or Marek at all, so being so open with them isn’t something I would normally practice. It just felt right to share this with Daire. Maybe it’s his eyes, or it could be the fact that I am still reeling from my father’s announcement last night.

Ugh, I still need to plan a way out of that!

“You okay?” Daire asks, looking concerned. “You went from looking sad to looking enraged in a matter of milliseconds.”

“Yeah. Well, actually, no. I just have some sh!t to deal with as far as my father is concerned.” I shook my head, trying to clear out the thoughts so I can enjoy my breakfast bowl.

“Anything I can help with?” He asks.

“Uh, probably not. We came here to talk about your mom, not my dad anyway,” I remind him.

“Right. So my mom was part of your world from your birth until you were ten years old…”

He takes a bite from his food and pauses to think, his eyes looking up and to the right as he works out whatever is in his mind.

“How did you end up with her ring? I played with it often as a child, so I know she never took it off except for those moments.”

“She gave it to me the day I broke my arm,” I say absently as I use my thumb to twist the ring on my finger. “I always admired it. That day was a pretty crushing day for me, so I guess she just did it to make me happy.”

“No,” Daire says with conviction. “Everything she did was for much deeper reasons than mere happiness. She always had a purpose. Always.”

I met his eyes again, surprised at how he could know that about Dora when he was so young when she left him. He wasn’t wrong, though. It always felt as though each thing Dora did with me was to prepare me somehow for something.

“I had fallen from the roof at school. For once, the children had included me in a game: truth or dare. Every time it was my turn, I chose dare, knowing that whoever I picked next would choose truth. I had figured out the pattern of likely outcomes, and as a child, I wanted to know the truth from my peers, from my parents, from everyone. When the children got upset that I only chose dare, they dared me to climb a tree and jump from its highest branch to the roof of the school. I did it, but slipped and fell, breaking my arm in the process of cushioning my fall. That evening, my parents left for what was to be a two-week trip to meet with the Jureaus in Uralia. That trip actually lasted six months. Dora read me my favorite fairytale about the realms, then gave me her ring. She told me that I should always write my stories and that I was smart for always choosing dare, because in doing so, it would always lead me to the truth.”

Somewhere in that mess, my voice had softened to almost a whisper, the emotions of my childhood threatening to spill out if I spoke any louder. I take a bite of food, drink some of my coffee, and gather my strength back before I speak again.

“That night was very instrumental in my life. It’s why I turned my back on my parents’ plans for me to join them in politics and foreign relations. This ring is a constant reminder that Dora had told me to never stop writing and to always share my stories, so I took the leap a couple of years ago and became an author.”

“Which brought me to you yesterday,” Daire hummed, his voice as rich as dark chocolate fudge.

My traitorous pus.sy just clenched at the sound. I take a large swallow of my coffee to distract my lower half. Why am I responding to his voice so suddenly?