in the way he rocked back and forth with quiet excitement. Certainly he wasn’t your average thirtysomething, and while disabled people didn’t make Colt uncomfortable, he wasn’t sure what to say. And frankly these two reeked of neediness, and Colt wasn’t in the habit of helping strays. He had enough on his plate.
“Yeah,” he finally said, moving past her, determined to leave her and her companion behind. “Great, uh, great movies.”
He hadn’t gotten more than three paces when she called “Viking Knight! Wait!” from behind him. When he spun around, she was so close to him that his furry cape whipped her in the face. She stumbled backward, but his hand snaked out to steady her just before she fell. As his fingers curled around the bare skin of her upper arm, his eyes slammed into hers, and close-up, he realized that she was a lot prettier than he’d originally thought. Fresh and freckled in a girl-next-door sort of way, her hair was an almost white-blonde, but her eyelashes were long, dark, and curled, framing a pair of sweet, cornflower-blue eyes. His heart sped up, battering recklessly against his ribs.
“Are they hiring?”
“What?” he asked, blinking at her in annoyance. “Who?”
Her grin deepened, showcasing two peekaboo dimples that made her eyes dance. “The Legend of Camelot. Are they hiring?”
He shrugged, dropping his hand as he sized her up as a potential cast member.
Despite his reassessment, she still wasn’t quite pretty enough (or tall enough) to play the princess, nor did she look anywhere near strong enough to be a serving wench, and Colt knew that Lynette wasn’t looking for bartenders or gift shop cashiers. But when she blinked at him with those pretty eyes, the word no didn’t come.
“What do you do?” he asked, his voice gruffer than he intended.
“I’m a waitress,” she said, unruffled by his tone or perusal. She rolled her lips between her teeth, looking up at the man, who was still whispering “The sword in the stone, Camelot” over and over under his breath. “And my brother, Ryan, is a great janitor. Really great. Comes in on time. Does everything he’s told. He’s really strong too. Doesn’t bother anyone. Just—you know, he’s a good worker. Solid.”
Her brother.
Of course.
She and her brother were looking for work together, and from the way she’d just been selling him, he guessed that it wasn’t an easy feat.
Colt knew what he needed to do. He needed to give her a look that said “I’m sorry” and shrug his shoulders to let her know he couldn’t help her. He needed to say no and walk away from her big, blue, pleading eyes and mumbling man-child of a brother. Because Colton Lane wasn’t really a knight. In fact, he was the furthest-possible thing from a knight. He was just a guy who dressed up like a historically inaccurate Viking Knight and rode a horse in a dinner show—a job that had grown stale five and a quarter years ago. He had no business getting tangled up with these two. They’d be trouble. He could feel it. And he didn’t need any trouble.
“Please?” she whispered so softly, he almost thought he’d imagined it.
“What’s your name?” he asked, every instinct still warning him not to get involved with them, even as the words escaped his lips.
“Verity.”
Of course it was. Colt groaned inwardly.
Verity. Truth. Her name was as sweet and earnest as her freckled face, which looked like it had seen more sunny days in the country than hot nights in the city. He searched her pretty eyes, feeling his resistance weaken under their hope.
“Colton,” he said, holding out his hand.
She didn’t look down. Her gaze held him captive as she reached out, sliding her small, cool hand against his until their palms were flush. And something—something indefinable and unexpected and very, very inconvenient—passed between them as she pressed her hand intimately against his. He felt it in his gut. He knew it in his head. And his heart beat a primal rhythm that it had apparently always known yet never shared.
Gasping softly, he yanked his hand away from hers, frowning, but helpless to drop her eyes without offering some hope.
“I, uh, I know the head of human resources. Give me a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.”
With a last glance at Ryan, he muttered the word fuck, then turned and walked away.
***
Verity watched the knight go, his long legs putting distance between them, his horned helmet making him easy to track through the crowd. For all