Dark Sexy Knight (A Modern Fairytale)(71)

Beverly was taking inventory of the Renaissance jewelry while Verity had just finished balancing the register. “Yeah. Fine. But you get twenty minutes. Not twenty-five. I don’t want to have to talk to Lynette again.”

Yeah, you do, you patronizing cow.

But she wasn’t in the mood for a spat with Beverly. Too much was going right in her life to let Beverly spoil it.

“Twenty minutes. Got it,” said Verity, giving Beverly a small smile as she slipped out from behind the counter.

She thought she’d head to the stables to check on Ryan and maybe get a peek at Colton practicing fencing in the sunshine, his muscles tan and taut. Her insides clenched and relaxed with memories of yesterday, and she grinned as she walked down the employee hallway. After they’d made love in the sunshine, he’d held her close and whispered he loved her, followed by the single word: forever. And she couldn’t help but wondering if his mind had been visiting the same wishful thoughts of a future that hers had.

It wouldn’t be such a strange notion, would it? For the caregivers of two special-needs people to find each other, to understand each other, to fall in love, and to build a life together? There was a certain, well, verity to it, like maybe Colton was right about them being a fairy tale, like maybe her bad luck really was all prepayment for the good luck she was enjoying now, like maybe some people in the huge, wide world were simply meant to find each other, and when they did, they shouldn’t let go, no matter what.

She grinned as she pushed open the door to the stable area, letting her eyes adjust to the bright sunlight. In the middle of the ring, Colton, on Thor, looked over at her and winked as she waved. And Sebastian, whom Verity had gotten to know a little, wolf-whistled.

“Quit whistling at my woman,” growled Colton, swinging his mace at Sebastian.

But Sebastian caught it with his lance, watching it wind around and laughing heartily. “You know I don’t swing that way.”

Which was a shame for the women at The Legend of Camelot because he was one beautiful man, thought Verity.

“Still . . .,” groused Colton, “if anyone could turn you straight, it’d be her.”

“Do the routine again,” shouted Morgan. “And this time, in character. Viking Knight showdown with Renaissance Knight. No bullshit, boys.”

Colton shrugged, winking at Verity again as he turned and rode Thor to the other side of the ring to go through the routine again.

Verity strolled along the ringside, peeking into the barn doors for Ryan, but she didn’t see him.

“Hey, Joe!” she said, finding him in the empty stall that had been refitted as a small office. “Know where Ry is?”

Joe looked up from the saddle on his desk.

“This ain’t a saddlery.”

“Sorry?” she said.

“They bring me these saddles like I can fix ’em. I can’t.”

“Oh . . .,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Sorry.”

He sighed. “I’ll have to send it out.”

“Ryan?” she asked again.

“Oh, yeah. Had him preparin’ a stall for a new horse comin’ in. I can . . .” Joe started to get up.

“I’ll find him,” she said, grinning cheerfully.

“Tell him he can take his break!” called Joe as she turned and left. “Shoulda taken it ten minutes ago!”

She turned to the left, walking past a barn door and then another.

“Don’t wanna, Artie.”

Verity stopped in her tracks, holding her breath, listening intently.

“You’ll do it if I f*cking tell you to do it, you f*cking retard.”

The voices were coming from behind her, but far enough away that if there’d been any other noise around her, she wouldn’t have heard them at all. She turned and entered the dark barn, her heart racing as she called, “Ryan? Ryan? Are you back here?”

She passed two stalls on her right, then entered a far interior ring that circled the backs of the stalls and connected them inside.

“Ryan?” she called again.

“Stooooop!” he moaned.

His voice was slightly muffled, coming from the left, and she turned and ran toward him, her breath coming in pants of fear as much as exertion. Still circling as quickly as she could, she stopped in her tracks to find her brother on his knees, Artie behind him with his knee wedged into Ryan’s back, and a steaming pile of horse shit about two inches from Ryan’s face.

“What?” she panted. “What the f*ck are you doing?”

“Your brother’s about to have a snack, princess. But he can save some for you if you’re hungry.”

Artie reached forward and shoved Ryan’s head down just as Verity reached for the first thing she saw—a metal feed bucket—which she drew back and hit Artie with as hard as she could. Artie was knocked off-balance, and Verity ran to Ryan, pulling him up by the arms. His nose and forehead were covered with horse feces, and tears fell down his face.

“Ew! Ew! Ver’ty. I got poop on my face! It’s poop!”

“Don’t worry about that!” She swallowed, battling feelings of anger and sadness, sheer horror and revulsion. “You go run and get Joe! RUN! NOW!”

Ryan scampered off, and Verity turned toward Artie, who had finally risen to his feet, blood running from his temple as he stared down at her with menace.