Dark Sexy Knight (A Modern Fairytale)(20)

Thankfully she was saved from answering by a rolling murmur that rose up in the room as the double doors that led to the arena opened and a man stood between them, arms spread to hold the doors wide open. He was as tall as Colton, though not as broad, his legs were long in ripped jeans, and his chest rippled with muscles under a tight white T-shirt. His hair was gelled into a runway-ready style, and aviator sunglasses shielded his eyes.

“Artie!” said Daphne, chuckling affectionately. “He loves making an entrance on Monday mornings.”

“And he knows f*cking how,” said Marty, giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Sex on a stick,” sighed Daphne. She nudged Verity in the hip. “That’s Artie Kingston. Head Knight.”

“Oh,” she said, watching as he swaggered into the hall.

Flicking her eyes to Colton, she noted that his expression was more thunderous and annoyed than usual as he trained his eyes on Artie, who swanned from group to group, saying good morning, even though it was past noon. When he reached them, he slapped Colton on the back.

“Hail, fellow! Well met!” he exclaimed. “Viking Knight of the Northmen, how fare thee today?” Colton slanted his eyes toward Artie, and Artie chortled. “Eh, f*ckin’ Colt. You’re too serious, man. Lighten up.”

Colton shrugged Artie’s arm off his shoulder. “After the meeting, we need to run through the fight—”

“Well, well, well,” said Artie, ignoring Colton as he reached up and removed his sunglasses, showcasing a pair of handsome blue eyes. “Who do we have here?”

“Verity Gwynn and her brother, Ryan,” said Joe, grinning at Artie’s antics like an indulgent uncle. “Merchant. Stablehand.”

“Verde,” said Artie, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips. They were soft and warm and sent a small tremor up her arm. “Like the color?”

“Verity,” said Colt, who looked like he wanted to kill someone. “Like the truth.”

“Verity,” said Artie, kissing her hand again. “Verity.” And again. “Make me the happiest knight in Camelot and tell me you’re single.”

She laughed at Artie’s easy grin. He was so impishly charming, it was almost impossible not to be taken by him.

“Me and Ver’ty live at Colton’s house,” said Ryan from behind her.

Artie looked over her shoulder, his face screwing up for a moment as he assessed Ryan. “And who might you be?”

“Ryan,” repeated Joe. “New stablehand.”

“My brother,” said Verity.

Artie’s smile slipped a touch as he stared at Ryan, but it was back in place as soon as he cut his eyes to Verity. “You live with Colt?”

“For now,” she said.

“Indefinitely,” said Colton at the same time, who stepped forward to stand beside her, his hip brushing hers.

And in that close proximity, she felt it again—that lightning bolt of electricity from Colton’s body to hers, and it blew Artie’s adorableness straight to kingdom come. She was so struck by the differences between the two men, it took a moment for what Colton had said to register.

Indefinitely.

Indefinitely, meaning they didn’t have to leave by tomorrow night, meaning they could stay in Colton’s neat, tidy, welcoming little house, where she woke up to violet wallpaper and Ryan watched the sunset surrounded by a family of rabbits. Indefinitely, meaning she could save up some money for a decent apartment, so that they didn’t have to stay in another disgusting motel. Indefinitely, meaning she’d see Colton at breakfast every morning, hear him turn on the shower downstairs, and know that he was sleeping beneath her. Indefinitely. It was suddenly the sweetest word in all the world.

But did he mean it? Oh God, could he possibly have meant it?

Her hand slipped from Artie’s as she turned to face Colton, and she saw the earnestness of his eyes, gray and clear, kind and soft as he stared back at her.

“Indefinitely,” he said again, the word a whisper, meant only for her.

Without looking away, she reached for his hand—his warm, strong, rough hand—and laced her fingers through his, curling them until the pads of her fingertips landed on the back of his hand, and waiting for him to do the same. He stared at her in surprise, but his fingers didn’t curl, didn’t grasp onto hers. Rigidly threaded through hers, they remained motionless until she straightened hers and pulled them away, feeling foolish and forward.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and he nodded in his usual taciturn way, then turned his attention to Lynette, who stood up at a podium and welcomed the cast of “TL’o C” to the Monday meeting.

“Sit in the blue section tonight,” said Artie, who bent his neck to whisper near her ear.

“I’m sitting in yellow,” she responded without looking at him, though it occurred to her that she should go sit in blue after Colton had just gently, but firmly, rejected her.

“You’re different,” said Artie, the low rumble of his voice amused.

“How so?”

He chuckled softly as Lynette reminded cast members to write their names on anything they put in the employee refrigerator.

“Most girls say yes.”

“I’m not most girls.”

“Like I said, different.”