Dark Sexy Knight (A Modern Fairytale)(45)

“A win’s a win!” She winked at him, her ponytail swinging playfully as she ducked into the car.

Colt reached for Ryan’s shoulder just before he opened his door and whispered, “Ryan, how’s Artie treating you?”

“Oh, Artie.”

“Okay? Not okay?”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes people call me retard, but that’s their problem, not mine.”

Colt clenched his jaw but kept his face neutral. It upset Melody when he had a “thunder face,” and he didn’t want to upset Ryan. But if he ever heard Artie use the word retard in conjunction with Ryan again, Colt would deck him with pleasure.

“Listen, if he bothers you, I want you to tell me, okay?”

“Yeah,” said Ryan. “Tell Colton. You’re a friend.”

“That’s right.”

“Yeah. I’m tired.”

“Go on. Get in the car.” Colt released Ryan’s shoulder, and Ryan opened his door.

As they sat down, Verity turned to him with an impish grin. “What were you two talking about?”

“Artie,” announced Ryan from the backseat.

Grin gone, Verity’s head whipped back to look at her brother. “Is he bothering you?”

Colt looked at Ryan in the rearview mirror and watched as Ryan shook his head. “Nope.”

“You tell me true, Ryan Gwynn.”

“Nope,” he said again, leaning his forehead against the window.

She turned back around in her seat, looking at Colt with worried eyes. “Is Artie bothering him?”

Colt took a deep breath. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he didn’t want to upset her for no reason either. Artie had been complaining to Joe, not bothering Ryan. Until he actually saw Artie making trouble for Ryan, he needed to take his own advice and keep his mouth shut.

“Someone gave éclair cabbage, and Artie was storming around the stables, all pissed off because he had to ride Galahad tonight.”

Ryan giggled loudly in the backseat. “Cabbage makes ’em fart.”

Colt looked up into the mirror again, narrowing his eyes and wondering if it was possible that Ryan had fed the horse cabbage to get even with Artie for some meanness. Was he capable of concocting such a plan? If so, more power to him. Artie deserved a little taste of his own medicine.

“You just steer clear of him,” said Verity as Colt pulled out of his parking space. “I don’t like him.”

This made Colt pause for a second because he’d never heard Verity say something this bald and unforgiving. He glanced at her sidelong for a moment, but she was staring out the window like her brother. Colt decided to let it go. If she was going to choose someone to dislike, he was glad it was Artie. Colt trusted Artie . . . not at all.

“Not a fan of Captain Wonderful, huh?”

“Ugh,” she said, making a retching noise. “Not even a little bit.”

“Not your style?”

She turned to him and grinned, her face lit up by a red light in front of them. “Hot, growly Vikings are way more my style.”

“Hot, huh?”

“Way hot,” she said, winking at him again, those two dimples so pretty, it made his breath and his heart catch. This woman. Fuck, but she made him happier than he had a right to be.

Taking another look in the backseat, he saw that Ryan was fast asleep. Reaching for her hand, he pressed the back to his lips, then laced his fingers through hers and held them for the rest of the ride home.

His heart thumped fiercely—like it knew something much bigger than how it felt to hold hands with Verity Gwynn.

And that was just fine with him.

***

Verity’s belly swarmed with butterflies, and the rest of the ride home was quiet but full of portent—of unspoken exhilaration with every adjustment of his fingers through hers, with every mile closer to his house. When he pulled into the driveway, he cut the engine and turned to her, still holding her hand.

“You want a glass of wine? I can open a bottle.”

She nodded, grinning at him. “I’d love one.”

“Popcorn?”

“Yes, please!”

“How about you get your brother settled and then come find me?”

“In . . . your room?” she asked, her heart fluttering with anticipation.

“Only TV in the house,” he reminded her.

“I remember.” She licked her lips to tease him. “And you’ll only jump me if I ask.”

“Will you, baby? Ask?”

She laughed softly, unlacing her fingers from his. “We’ll see.”

His face was soft but still somehow stern. “I don’t expect anything, you know.”

“I know,” she said.

“Just being with you . . . it . . .” He shrugged. “It makes me happy.”

“Colton . . .”

“Come to me quickly,” he said gruffly, then opened his door and left her alone in the car with her snoring brother.

Through the windshield Verity watched him go, his long legs, his tight ass, his shoulder-length hair gathered into a low ponytail. She leaned back in her seat and sighed.

She’d had three days to think about tonight, about what she wanted to do versus what would be smart. What she wanted? Ten to twelve hours of nonstop sex and occasional sleep sounded about right. His body, hot and naked, thrusting into hers, pillaging her depths and loving her raw.