Dark Sexy Knight (A Modern Fairytale) (14 page)

Typing in his name, she pressed enter and waited as about thirty thousand random entries popped up. Her lips twitched and she added the word
Georgia
to her query, hoping it would narrow the results, and sure enough, the fourth entry (and several more below it) read “Colton Lane, Atlanta, Georgia, acquitted on charges of battery.”

She scrolled down the screen, looking for the words
murder
or
manslaughter
or anything else that might verify her coworkers’ outlandish claims, but there was nothing, and she breathed a deep sigh of relief. He
hadn’t
killed anyone.
Goddamned bitches!
Thank God.

Then again, a charge of battery in his past wasn’t something to cheer about either.

She glanced at her brother, reassuring herself that he was content, then leaned forward and clicked on an article as the bus hummed along toward the house that Colton was selflessly sharing with them.

The article had been published nine years ago, when Colton was eighteen years old and a senior in high school. Apparently some fellow seniors had been harassing his cousin, Melody Spindler, and he’d beat them both unconscious. He’d been acquitted based on a defense argument that Melody, who had special needs, was unable to protect herself and Colton was protecting her in the same way that a parent was allowed to protect a child.

Special needs. Hmm. Her eyes lingered on the words, and she considered them for a moment, sliding her eyes to Ryan, who was enthusiastically mouthing the words to “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” beside her.

Looking back at the article for clues about Melody’s particular special needs, Verity couldn’t find any. Because Melody had been only fifteen at the time, and a minor, details about the exact nature of her disability and the harassment she’d endured had been withheld.

And then Verity remembered: Melody suffered from seizures.

Of course. The harassment probably had to do with her seizures. She’d been a target because of her disability. Poor thing.

Verity’s heart surged with affection as all the puzzle pieces came together. Just like Colton had come to Ryan’s rescue, he’d protected his cousin in high school. A dark knight. An avenging angel. A superhero. A righteous vigilante. Someone who fought for those who couldn’t fight for themselves, who protected those who were vulnerable.

If that was his crime, she applauded it. She welcomed it. It raised him up in her estimation, and the next time a couple of troublemaking bitches at work threw around words like
murderer
or
killer
, she’d be ready. Oh Lord, would she be ready.

Satisfied that Colton was every bit as wonderful as she’d believed him to be before her restroom run-in, she sighed and closed her browser, sitting back in her seat and thinking about their short interlude in the janitor’s closet this afternoon. After they’d reconfirmed their plans for Sunday, she slid her hand aside and rested her ear directly over his heart, listening to its strong, even pounding, praying that the rumors she’d just heard were false. He didn’t kiss her, just held her close until she’d tested Beverly’s patience enough and decided she had to go back. She pulled away from him, and without a word, he opened the closet door, checked to be sure the coast was clear, then gave her a crooked grin before stepping into the corridor.

She rested her head against the bus window.

Right now, Sunday felt like a million years away.

Verity and Colton had worked opposite shifts on Saturday but they were both scheduled for the matinee shift on Sunday, so Verity woke up elated at the prospect of spending most of the day together, humming “Whistle While You Work” as she made French toast for breakfast.

While the skillet warmed up a lump of butter, she looked out the back door at Ryan, who was sitting on the grass, enjoying the cool morning before the sweltering heat of the day moved in. He leaned back on his elbows, grinning at the sky, and it occurred to Verity that she hadn’t seen him so carefree since they’d left Camilla. A wave of happiness made her smile as she raised a coffee mug to her lips, watching her brother through the back door window.

“Jesus, you’re beautiful.”

She glanced left and found Colton standing at the mouth of the hallway that led back to his bedroom, staring at her with an expression somewhere between pain and pleasure.

“In my old bathrobe with no makeup on and my hair in a granny bun?”

“In
anything
,” he said softly, like it was true.

“Good morning,” she said, grinning at him because she was so happy and because, in her eyes, in every way that counted, in every way that mattered, he was beautiful too.

He stepped forward in a slightly stiff morning swagger, his bare feet padding softly on the linoleum. Bending down, he pressed his lips to her forehead, then leaned back to look at her. “Now it is.”

“You ready to finally win today?” she asked, her heart aflutter from the touch of his lips. She crossed the kitchen to take a piece of egg-soaked white bread from a bowl and place it in the sizzling pool of melted butter.

He leaned against the back door and looked out at Ryan for a moment before turning back to her. “I’ve got a date with you tonight. I already won.”

“Are you the same surly man who walked across a crowded ballroom scowling at me a week ago?”

He lowered his eyes, his lips twitching. “Are you the same chatterbox who wouldn’t let me go to the bathroom?”

“Is that where you were headed when we met?”

He nodded. “I needed a break from Lynette.”

“Well, I guess you got a lot more than you bargained for,” she said, picking up a spatula and flipping the toast.

“Ask me if I’d change anything.”

She cut her eyes to his, searching his face. “Would you?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Not one thing.”

“Me either,” she said, tugging her bottom lip into her mouth, “though I’m sorry you had to, you know, take care of those guys back at the motel.”

Her comment spilled over from her dreams last night, which had been a result of her efforts to paint Colton’s character and understand the many parts that made up the man. Sweet and brutal. Tender and fierce. Taciturn and passionate.

He inhaled deeply, shrugging his burly shoulders under a tight gray T-shirt. “Guys like that have it coming.”

“I know, but you could have gotten in a lot of trouble if someone had seen or if they’d called the cops,” she said, transferring the golden toast to a waiting plate and adding a new piece of soggy bread to the frying pan.

“But they
didn’t
call the cops,” he said. “Because they were wrong. Because some part of them knew they deserved what they got.”

“Of course they did,” she said, remembering her brother’s helplessness as the men taunted him, “but it worries me for you. I’d hate . . . I mean, I’d hate to see you end up in jail for doing what you thought was right.”

His eyes narrowed for a moment, and his voice grew noticeably gruffer. “I get the feeling you’re trying to say something, Verity, so how’s about cutting to the chase?”

Was she? Was she trying to say something? Why? What good was opening this can of worms? Was it guilt over knowing about his past from someone other than him? Worry that he could get in trouble on her account? Fear that he could unleash that rage on her or Ryan? Or some combination of all three?

“A couple of girls at work mentioned . . .”

Her voice trailed off as she watched him flinch. He raised his chin, his eyes cooling so fast, it made her heart clench.

“You don’t seem like the type to put stock in gossip.”

Damn it.
They’d started out this morning tender and flirtatious, and she was ruining it.

“I’m not. But I’m still learning who you are, and they mentioned an incident in high school, and—”

“And you looked me up.”

She nodded, feeling simultaneously worried for his reaction and relieved to come clean with him.

“Then you know that, one, I had cause, and two, I was acquitted.” He folded his arms across his broad chest and stared at her from across the room with hard eyes. “I didn’t do any permanent damage. In fact, I still see those two fuckers around from time to time, but you can bet your ass they think twice before bothering someone weaker than them.”

“I’m sorry, Colton. I’ve upset you, and I didn’t mean to. I just . . .”

She didn’t know what to say, so she turned back around to flip the toast in the pan. It had burned while they were talking, and the charred side looked up at her accusingly.

“I’m no saint, Verity,” he said from behind her. “If you’re trying to put me on a pedestal or fit me with a halo, you’re out of luck, baby. I’m just a man with a million flaws, like all the rest of ’em. I’ve got a temper, and it’s bad sometimes, and when someone I care about is threatened, yes, ma’am, I hit back. Yes, I do.” He paused, and his voice, which had gotten worked up as he spoke, was gentler when he continued. “You should know that I’ve never hit a woman. I’ve never hit someone weaker than me and certainly never roughed up someone for sport. I’ve already promised I won’t ever hurt you or yours. But I can’t stand here and lie to you and tell you that if someone is bothering Mel or you or your brother, that I’ll just stand aside and let it happen. Because I won’t. It’s not who I am. It’s just not in my make and model.”

She listened to him take a short, quick breath and exhale with a long sigh. “I’m not looking to change who I am, Verity,” he continued. “I’m twenty-eight years old. I know what I believe, and I know who I am. But if I’m not what you’re looking for? Hey, I get it. Walk away. Just walk away. It’s okay.”

His voice trailed off to a whisper at the end of his speech, and, with her back still to him, she clenched her burning eyes shut for a moment as she transferred the toast to the plate, then turned to face him, a giant lump taking up most of the space in her throat.

“I don’t want to change you,” she managed to murmur, blinking back the tears in her eyes. She cleared her throat, reaching for the Yggdrasil charm around her neck and toying with it as she started again in a stronger voice. “I like it that you’re protective. I like that you look after the people you care about. I like
you
, Colton Lane.” She searched his face, looking for a bit of softness that would assure her that her words were getting through, but she didn’t find it, and the thought of hurting him, of losing him, twisted her insides into knots so painful, she suppressed a gasp. “I don’t want to walk away.”

He crossed the kitchen in two strides, pulling her roughly into his arms.

“Thank fuck,” he growled, resting his chin on top of her head.

“I’m just worried about you,” she said, sighing with relief. She flattened her palms against his chest, marveling at the hard contours, desperate to touch his skin, to learn the heat and texture of it under her fingers.

“Don’t worry, sunshine,” he said gently. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”

“I’m getting attached to you,” she whispered, like saying the words gave them a power she wasn’t quite ready to concede.

“Me too,” he said. “I’m right there with you.”

She nestled into his neck, closing her eyes, seeking his warm skin with her lips and pressing gently. His breath caught in a short gasp, and she dragged her lips lower, peppering kisses along the base of his neck, letting her tongue dart out to taste him. A strangled sound—half groan, half growl—emerged from his throat, and he suddenly released her, pushing away and stepping back, his eyes dark and wild as his chest surged up and down.

“Colton?” she whimpered, wondering what had just happened.

The kitchen door swung open, and Ryan was suddenly standing between them.

“Is breakfast ready?” he asked, grinning at each of them before making his way to the table. “I’m hungry, guys.”

Colton’s eyes still held hers captive.

“Me too, buddy,” said Colton, his voice like sandpaper.

Me too
, thought Verity, crossing back over to the stove, her stomach aflutter, her heart practically bursting.

***

In the five and a half years he’d been performing the Sunday matinee, Colt had never looked forward to it quite as much as he did today. Not just for his weekly opportunity to theatrically kick Artie’s ass, but because, after the show, lucky bastard that he was, he was heading home with the hottest, sexiest, sweetest girl he’d ever known, and tonight he got to have her to himself.

It had taken every ounce of strength in his body to push her away this morning, but as far as he knew, she hadn’t talked to Ryan about them dating yet, and he didn’t want Ryan to find out by mistake. Colt had learned that, much like Melody, Ryan thrived on routine, and though Colt didn’t think he’d object to them dating, he definitely didn’t want to upset Verity’s brother. Anyway, they were still new. As much as he hoped for the best, it was probably a good idea to see what the next few weeks held in store before sharing their new status with Ryan or Melody.

Plus, he needed to tell
her about Melody, and two things about telling Verity about his cousin worried him.

The first, which was his much lesser fear, was that she’d feel overwhelmed at the prospect of him also having a special-needs dependent. Though he was almost positive that Verity would share her trademark warmth and kindness with Melody, she had her hands full with Ryan, and there was a small part of Colt that worried she might back away from him at the thought of increasing her own burden. He truly didn’t think this would happen, but he thought it couldn’t hurt to be cautious and patient, and choose the right time to introduce Verity to the idea (and the person) of Mel.

The second, which was a genuine concern for Colt, was that Verity had very strong opinions about living situations for developmentally disabled people. He’d known her for a week and seen her in some truly desperate situations, but the only time she’d snapped at him or really gotten her back up was during their dinner on the patio a few nights ago, when she said she’d never put Ryan in a home. He didn’t know what her experience with group homes had been, but he was certain that she had never seen a community like Bonnie’s Place. Colt knew that he if broached the topic again, she’d not only shut down but likely get even angrier than last time. The only way for her to understand that there were amazing places for developmentally disabled adults was for her to
see
Bonnie’s Place. And obviously she couldn’t see it until he was ready to introduce her to Mel.

It was sort of a vicious circle right now, and the only answer was to be patient, to build trust between them, and—when and if the time was right—to introduce Verity to Mel
and
Bonnie’s Place at the same time. And he knew they weren’t at that place yet.

Sebastian, the Renaissance Knight, elbowed Colt in the side. “You coming, or what?”

Colt looked up and realized he’d been zoning out, and the locker room he shared with the other knights was empty but for them. It was time to head to the stables and mount up for the show.

“Uh, yeah.”

“You okay?”

“Just distracted.”

“Better get your head in the game,” said Sebastian, who wore a red and white tunic with a red feather in his helmet. “Full house this afternoon. Your show, man.”

Colt followed his friend out the door, wishing Verity could be in the audience, but understanding why she couldn’t. Guests slipped out to the main hall throughout the performance to visit the bathrooms and bar, so there was a fairly brisk business at the gift shop during the show. Someday soon they’d work different Sunday shifts, and then she could see him win. Tonight, as he’d told her in the kitchen this morning, he’d already won just by virtue of their imminent date.

“Good luck,” said Sebastian, pushing open the doors that led to the stables.

“Huzzah,” Colt answered, rolling his eyes.

Striding through the practice ring, he headed for Thor’s stall but was distracted by a conversation in the stall to his left as he walked past.

“Keep the retard away from Éclair.”

“Artie, come on, now,” said Joe.

Colt stopped in the doorway, about twenty feet away from where Artie and Joe were speaking.

“I fucking mean it, Joe.”

Colt cleared his throat, and both men turned to look at him.

“Is there a problem here?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he stepped forward, facing them.

“No problem,” said Artie, narrowing his eyes. “I just don’t want your girlfriend’s brother hanging around my mount.”