Dark Sexy Knight (A Modern Fairytale)(28)
Joe turned to look at Ryan’s profile, smiling at her brother. “Well, now, I like the sound of that, Ryan. How about you be my best friend too?”
So focused on her brother’s conversation with Joe, Verity didn’t hear Colton sidle up beside her, leaning against the stable wall next to her. She didn’t know he was there until he took her free hand and laced his fingers through hers, squeezing gently as their palms fused together.
Turning to him, she felt the wetness on her cheeks and realized she was crying, but she let the tears stay where they fell as she looked up into his gray eyes with all the gratitude and tenderness she felt for him.
“At the risk of sounding like a broken record . . .,” she started, her voice trailing off as more tears wound down her face.
“You’re welcome,” he said softly, squeezing her hand again.
***
They detoured through the McDonald’s drive-through for Ryan’s dinner on the way home, picking up a Big Mac and fries as he told them about how the Gaelic Knight’s horse, Killarney, had colic and how Shawn had to use the backup mare, Sheelagh, for tonight’s show.
Verity asked her brother questions and chuckled in all the right places, but Colt could barely follow Ryan’s story. He was totally distracted by Verity sitting beside him, unable to think about anything but their date tonight and the fact that he’d have her all to himself for a few precious hours.
It’s true she lived at his house. But it was also true that she and Ryan kept to themselves to some extent. She’d gotten into the habit of making them breakfast every morning, and Colt drove them to and from the castle on the days they worked the same shift, so they spent that time together. But once they were home, Verity and Ryan often turned in early, staying upstairs, quiet as mice, as though anxious not to bother or inconvenience him, when the truth was, he would have welcomed their company on the nights he was home. Verity’s especially.
It was almost seven when he turned into his driveway and shut off the engine. He watched Verity as Ryan gathered up his garbage in the backseat and jumped out of the car.
“See you at eight?”
A smile played at the corners of her lips. “Are you picking me up at the foot of the stairs?”
He shook his head. “Meet me on the back patio.”
Her smile burst forth as she scanned his face with curious eyes. “What do you have planned?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he said, opening his door and heading into the house.
That morning, while she was at work, he had driven to Target to do a little shopping: a barbecue grill and a white fabric tablecloth and napkins. Aunt Jane had collected plenty of vases that she’d left under the sink, but he stopped at a local florist and bought a dozen light pink roses. When he got home, he’d set the picnic table on the patio with the new linens and Aunt Jane’s pink china. He put the flowers in one of her vases and placed it in the center of the table. Standing back, it occurred to him that he’d be missing candlelight as evening turned to night, so he went back inside and scoured the house for candles but found none. What he did find on a basement shelf were white Christmas tree lights in four or five tangled strings. After spending an hour untangling them, he found an old flagpole in the garage and pounded it into the grass at the edge of the patio, then roped the lights from the house to the pole in five lines that made a cheerful triangle of white twinkle lights over the picnic table.
Once he felt the patio was ready, he drove to the grocery store, where he bought two steaks, two cobs of corn, and two biscuits from the bakery section. He remembered how Aunt Jane would slather the cobs in butter, roll them in foil, and place them on the grill, and he figured they could cook while he grilled the steaks. He didn’t know for sure if Verity liked steak or not, but she ate bacon for breakfast, so she wasn’t a vegetarian. Next to the biscuits, he’d seen a tiny five-layer cake, just enough for two, and on a whim, he’d thrown that in his basket too.
He didn’t know much about wine, but he knew that you were supposed to drink red wine with steak, so he picked up a bottle of Merlot. Now he looked at the bottle sitting on the table and realized that he had no idea if Verity was a drinker. There was so much he didn’t know about her. Really, he barely knew her at all.
Though he had forbidden himself to fall for her, it astonished him how attached he’d gotten to her in such a short time. Melody had moved out six years ago, and Aunt Jane died six months later. Since then, he hadn’t made a lot of friends, preferring to keep to himself. Frankly he’d never even realized how lonely he was . . . until Verity came along.
He uncorked the bottle and left it on the table, then poured some charcoal into the grill, dousing it with lighter fluid and throwing a match into the pile. It lit up immediately, and he covered it with a vented top before heading back inside. He had enough time to roll up the corn and season the steaks before she came downstairs.
As he worked, he thought about her question from earlier today—the one that had gotten her so quiet: Have you dated a lot of women here? You know, coworkers? He should have just answered her because the truth was that, while he occasionally engaged in a fan f*ck, the only person he’d ever dated at work was Sandy.
He’d dated Sandy for a few months on and off, but their relationship had been eighty percent physical and twenty percent watching movies and eating. When their movie was over or they ran out of things to talk about—which happened all the time—they’d f*ck. So they ended up f*cking a lot, which made the relationship pleasurable but monumentally shallow.