Dark Sexy Knight (A Modern Fairytale)(27)

Colton nodded. “He’s the Head Knight.”

“Why not you? Haven’t you been here longer?”

“It’s not about seniority. I wasn’t interested in mentoring the other guys.”

“And Artie is?” she asked, incredulity heavy in her voice because she had seen a good bit of Artie this week and she wouldn’t exactly choose him as a molder of young warriors. The way he walked around the castle like he owned the place made him seem super-conceited, and she gathered he didn’t value the same discretion she did when it came to dating on the job. She overheard two bartenders in the ladies’ room talking about his most recent conquests, which suddenly made her wonder . . .

“Have you dated a lot of women here?” she asked Colton. “You know, coworkers?”

“What’s a lot?” he asked, pushing open the door and holding it for her.

Two. One. Any. Her heart dropped. Had there been tons? And wait. Was she just another casual work relationship for Colton? She bit her bottom lip because the thought was so . . . painful.

“Never mind,” she said, looking around the practice yard for her brother. Two out-of-costume knights in training jousted with rubber lances.

“Does it matter?” asked Colton, his voice close to her ear.

No. She lifted her chin. Yes, goddamn it.

Artie approached them, his Colgate smile fixed on Verity. Regardless of her frank and repeated disinterest in him, he hadn’t backed off, and she was both charmed and annoyed by his persistence.

“If it isn’t the prettiest merchant in Camelot,” he said, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips, as he always did when they ran into each other at the castle. He winked at her before flicking an irritated look at Colton. “Isn’t today your day off?”

Colton shrugged. “I missed you, Artie. Couldn’t stay away.”

Artie pressed his hand to his chest. “Alas, Viking Knight, my heart belongs to another.” Then he winked at Verity again.

“If you two will excuse me,” she said, rolling her eyes at them, “I’m going to go look for my brother.”

The question of Colton’s previous girlfriends still niggled at her as she walked around the practice ring. Had he dated Beverly? Daphne? Marty? One of the many other sexy wenches with huge breasts and tiny waists who were his perfect physical match? The bartender with a snake tattooed up her arm (as opposed to the small vine of wild strawberries on Verity’s hip bone, which suddenly felt ridiculously sweet and safe next to the tribal tattoo on Colton’s foot)? Who had he dated? And how seriously? And for how long? And did she pass Verity in the hall every day, smirking, remembering how it felt to be Colton’s choice? To lie beneath him? To feel him inside? To fall asleep beside him?

Her jaw clenched and her jealousy flared, tight and hot, making her heart race.

Why does it bother you so much?

Colton Lane doesn’t belong to you.

She didn’t have a right to this much jealousy over a possible ex-girlfriend, and yet the thought of him with someone else—with anyone else—was strangely heartbreaking, like her heart had already called dibs on his, regardless of how long they’d known each other. It didn’t seem to matter that they were still new to one another. All that mattered was that she liked him more than any other man she’d ever known, which told her something important: tonight wasn’t casual for her. Whatever happened with Colton, she didn’t want it to be casual. And she couldn’t help but wonder if it was casual for him.

Her thoughts were scattered by the sound of her brother’s voice nearby, and she ducked into a nearby stable entrance, where she found him standing beside Joe, their backs to her as they looked into a stall together. She backed up against the stable wall behind her to eavesdrop.

“He ain’t pawin’ at the ground no more, Joe.”

Joe nodded. “That’s right.”

“It’s been twenty minutes, Joe, and he ain’t pawin’.”

“He’s lookin’ real good, huh?” asked Joe in his deep Southern drawl.

“Yeah. He don’t have the colic no more,” said Ryan, his voice full of relief.

“Oh, he’s still got it, son. But it ain’t the serious kind. You remember what I told you?”

“We give him the painkiller. If he stops pawin’ the ground, the colic’s gone.”

“No, Ryan. If he stops pawin’, means the colic’s managed. For now. Means we don’t need to call in the veterinarian tonight. Means most likely the horse’ll pass whatever ails him. But we still need to keep an eye on him tomorrow, right?”

“We sure will, Joe.”

“’Cause why, son?”

“’Cause we take care of things in Camelot, sir.”

“Hoo-wee!” exclaimed Joe, patting Ryan on the back. “Yes, son. We surely do.”

Verity’s hand reached up, flattening over her heart as tears burned the backs of her eyes. Every time, without exception, kindness made her cry faster than meanness, and watching Joe take a patient interest in Ryan just about leveled her to a blubbering mess on the stable floor.

“Can I tell you somethin’, Joe?” asked her brother.

“You can tell me whatever you like.”

“You’re my bestest friend in the whole world.”