Dark Sexy Knight (A Modern Fairytale)(5)

Lynette held up her hands. “I wish I could, but it’s just not—”

“Come on, Lynette,” said Colton, his gravelly voice rumbling as he gestured to the older woman’s bosom. “Ain’t there a heart somewhere in there?”

Lynette jerked her face toward Colton’s, her expression murderous. “Come on, what? Joe would have my hide if I hired someone without his say-so. He’s been in charge of the livestock at the castle for fifteen years—ever since the Atlanta location opened. You think he’s going to be okay with me showing up with . . . with . . .” She gestured to Ryan loosely, and Verity felt her temper flare.

“Ryan,” said Verity, flint in her voice. “His name is Ryan.” She turned to face her brother, “Come on. Let’s go.”

“But Ver’ty,” he said, his smile fading. “You said we need this job.”

She gulped. “We’ll find something else.”

Behind her, Colton was talking about how he would talk to Joe and smooth things over, but Lynette was unmoved, shaking her head and repeating the word no.

Verity faced her brother. “No, Ryan. Not here. We’ll just—”

“—find somewhere to work that doesn’t discriminate against disabled people,” said Colton way too loudly from behind her. He amped it up a little more to add, “Like Medieval Times. Or the Tournament of Kings. Or Excalibur Nights.”

Verity whirled around to face him just as Lynette gasped in outrage, springing to her feet. “TL’oC does not discriminate!”

“All evidence to the contrary,” said Colton, folding his massive arms over his chest.

Lynette flicked her glance to the tables on either side, where her fellow recruiters looked on in curiosity, then lifted her chin. “I can’t—”

“Yeah,” said Colton firmly. “You can.”

Lynette clenched her jaw, turning to Verity with narrowed eyes before nailing Colton with an angry scowl. “If this doesn’t work out—”

“It will,” he said softly, nodding once, his steel-gray eyes unwavering.

Finally, out of options, Lynette turned back to Verity. “Your brother’s name is . . .?”

“Ryan,” she said, curling her fingers into fists, indignation giving way to hope.

Lynette fixed a fake smile on her face and turned to him, her voice suddenly laced with honey. “Ryan, how’d you like to work with horses, honey?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “I like animals. Lots.”

“Well,” said Lynette with a sniff, her forced smile quickly fading as she sat down in annoyed surrender, “with Ryan coming on as stablehand, at least we meet our ADA requirement.”

“But you still need a gift shop cashier,” said Colton, flicking a glance at Verity. “Right?”

Verity held her breath, eyes fixed on Lynette, who stared daggers (and swords and lances and javelins) at Colton.

“Very well,” she said tightly, glancing at the ogling recruiter for My Big Fat Greek Wedding Dinner Theater before offering Verity a frosty smile. “The Legend of Camelot would like to offer you a job as well, Miss . . .?”

“Verity Gwynn,” she said.

“Verity Gwynn,” mimicked Lynette, sitting down with a humph. She pulled two applications from a pile to her left and handed them to Verity. “Fill these out. You start this week. Monday. Eight a.m. The castle on—”

“Peachtree! I know where it is!” she said, taking the applications from Lynette and beaming at the prickly older woman.

She didn’t care why and she didn’t care how.

They had jobs!

Verity couldn’t help the pure rush of hopeful joy that warmed her from within. And when she slid her eyes to Colton’s face, damn if she didn’t catch the glow of shining armor brightening his tarnished gray eyes.





CHAPTER 2


Colt got an earful from Lynette in the hotel parking lot. She threatened to fire him and retracted the threat only when he reminded her that his big sin had been helping her fill two available positions and meet the ADA requirement she’d been lacking.

“Don’t spin this around! You had no business forcing that . . . that half-wit on me. And mark my words, Colton Lane, if Joe has an issue with this, I will be sending him to you for a full accounting of today’s bullshit. Am I clear? And furthermore . . .”

Colt stared down at her red face, wishing she’d shut the hell up and get in her car already but unwilling to make the actual suggestion. If he wanted to keep his job, he’d pushed Lynette about as far as he dared this afternoon . . . and f*ck if he could figure out why.

Maybe it was because the girl—Verity—really looked like she could use a break and Colt wasn’t a stranger to being in a tough spot. Besides, she had that huge man-child of a brother following her around. Colt didn’t need to walk a mile in her shoes to know that they were probably a tight fit.

Or maybe it was because she’d immediately recognized the ludicrousness of his role as a Viking Knight, and it had made him feel a rare and immediate kinship to her.

The first year he worked at The Legend of Camelot, he’d tried to explain to Morgan Fayette, the production supervisor, that having a Viking Knight was historically ridiculous, but she’d just stared at him blankly before asking him to please get his costume on and get his ass up on his mount before the show started.