Dark Sexy Knight (A Modern Fairytale)(39)

Still fingering the Yggdrasil charm, she exited the main hall through the double doors that led to the employee hallway and walked toward the bathroom, hoping Colton might arrive a few minutes early and she’d get a glimpse of him. Unfortunately the only knight headed in her direction was Artie Kingston, still in costume, sweaty and dusty from the matinee.

“Hey, princess!” he called, waving to her.

“Hi, Artie,” she answered, giving him a half smile. She didn’t want to encourage him, but she didn’t want to get a reputation for being an unfriendly bitch either.

“Where you headed?”

“Bathroom.”

“Can I come?” he asked, a devilish gleam in his eye as he stopped before her, blocking her way.

“To the bathroom?” she asked, giving him a look.

“Nice and private,” he said, grinning.

“And superromantic,” she deadpanned. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Aw!” he said, beating his chest with a flattened palm. “You wound me, milady.”

She laughed, taking a step forward. “Have a good rest of the day.”

But Artie didn’t move out of her way, and his playful expression straightened as he put his hands flat on the hallway walls on either side of them, completely blocking her way.

“Stay and chat.”

“I need to get back.”

“You can go when I say so.”

Uneasiness. Verity gulped, looking up at him. “I’m in the middle of a shift. Beverly will—”

“She can wait,” he said, his eyes trailing down her body, pausing at the small swell of her breasts in her princess dress before climbing back up. His look made her feel uncomfortable. Dirty. “You’re starting to hurt my feelings. When are you going out with me, gorgeous?”

Enough was enough. She took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not.”

“You’re seriously going to choose that Neanderthal over me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looked over her shoulder, but no one was coming down the hallway, and her uneasiness was growing into something more like low-grade panic. “Please let me pass.”

“I’m not done talking yet,” he said, his voice superficially affable but laced with taunting meanness. He leaned forward. “You know what? We don’t have to go out, Verde. We could just f*ck in the stables after the show sometime.”

Fury lashed through her, and her chin snapped up. Before she could stop herself or think better of it, she whipped her hand back, then launched it forward, connecting with his cheek with a loud crack.

“What the hell?” he demanded, dropping one arm from the corridor wall to cradle his bright red cheek with his palm.

“You’re a filthy pig! Leave me alone.”

Hurrying past him, she ducked into the ladies’ room before he could grab her. She stood with her back against the door, panting with anger and adrenaline. For just a split second, she worried that she might have isolated herself in a place where Artie could finish what he’d started, so she was relieved to hear the sound of conversation by the sinks.

Well, momentarily relieved, anyway.

“Go for Shawn . . . or Sebastian.”

“He’s kinda short.”

“So what? He’s hot.”

“Superhot.”

“Not as hot as Artie.”

“Or Colt.”

“Colt’s bod is hot, but he’s a prick.”

“Yeah. A big one.”

Snickering.

“You know he’s got a big one.”

“How do you know?”

“Remember Sandy? She used to work here? Holy shit. She used to go on and on about his dick. Apparently, he’s hung like King Kong.”

Verity’s cheeks blazed with heat as she listened. She had felt the enormous bulge of his erection against her stomach last night, and Sandy hadn’t been lying, but she didn’t like the way these women were talking about Colton.

“I’d do him.”

“You would?”

“Yeah. In the dark. So I didn’t have to look at his face.”

“You think he’s that bad-looking? I could, like, forgive a lot of ugly if his dick was a magic wand.”

Verity cast her eyes down, anger boiling inside her. She’d had just about enough of this. It was bad enough that they were talking about her Colton like a piece of meat, but now they were just being catty bit—

Wait.

A slow smile spread across her face, eclipsing Artie’s crudeness and the girls’ meanness. Her Colton. Hers. And that’s when she knew—saw it in her head like a flash of lightning or in blinking, hot-pink neon:

I’m going to fall in love with him.

It’s going to happen.

(It’s already happening.)

And there’s not a thing I can do to stop it, even if I wanted to.

Accepting the absoluteness of these thoughts with a shaky sigh of surrender, she tuned back into the women’s conversation.

“No one’s going to be offering him a modeling contract anytime soon, that’s for damn certain.”

Verity cleared her throat, raised her chin, and walked down the dim corridor from the bathroom entrance to the stalls and sinks. As she rounded the corner, both women, who worked as bartenders, but whom Verity didn’t know by name, stopped talking and looked over at her.