joining the head of human resources for this two-day job fair meant time and a half. When he said yes, he figured he could endure the two eight-hour sessions for a little more green, right? Wrong. He’d underestimated the mind-numbing experience of encouraging a dozen applicants an hour to take an application while answering the same questions over and over again. By now, afternoon on day two, he was fried and more than ready to go home.
Lynette looked up at the kid. “Well, why don’t you look this over and come back if you have any questions, okay?”
The prospective squire smiled and nodded before moving on to the table beside them, where My Big Fat Greek Dinner Theater was recruiting unwitting grooms who weren’t being told they’d get a pie in the kisser twice a day and thrice on Saturdays.
“You could try being a little more enthusiastic,” grumbled Lynette as Colt stood up. “I get it that you’re the”—she used air quotes—“‘bad knight,’ but I really don’t appreciate the attitude.”
Colt choked back a million sarcastic responses but opted for “Just tired” instead. The reality was that, bigger paycheck or not, he shouldn’t have agreed to come. He didn’t have the passion for TLOC that someone like Artie had. Point of fact, he didn’t have passion for much of anything.
Stay out of trouble and make a decent living. He could hear his aunt Jane’s words from long ago echoing in his ears.
“One cashier position left to fill, but that’s an ADA job.” Lynette straightened out a small stack of applications and sighed. “We don’t have enough servers. If you see anyone looking for a job while you’re heading out and back, send them over, huh? And sell it, Colt. I mean it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, pushing his chair under the table.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she said meaningfully, eyes still sifting through applications.
“Ma’am?”
She looked at his Legend of Camelot costume slung carelessly over the back of his chair, then met his eyes deliberately.
“Right,” he said, pulling the faux fur cape around his shoulders and grabbing the horned Viking helmet from under his chair with a sigh before heading away from the table.
As he approached the exit, he looked up to see the girl and her companion still standing there together. Her eyes flitted anxiously around the room, landing on him and staring at his costume. She cocked her head to the side, and her eyes narrowed in puzzlement for just a moment before her lips tilted up in a small smile. As the distance between them closed, she raised her eyes to meet his. And suddenly, without warning, his feet stopped moving and he found himself standing before her.
“You’re a Viking,” she said, her voice deep and soft, a hint of wonder or amusement warming it into a purr.
For no good reason at all, the timbre of it surprised him. She was so tiny, he had expected it to be higher-pitched. Realizing that she was older than the teenager he’d originally guessed her to be, his eyes dropped to the swell of her breasts for a nanosecond. Her tits were small but full under a thin, light-colored sundress—perfect handfuls. He quickly lifted his eyes to her face again and guessed her age somewhere over twenty but no more than twenty-five.
“The Viking Knight,” he said, gesturing with a bob of his head toward the table where Lynette sat. “For The Legend of Camelot.”
“Viking Knight?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing as her lips widened a touch. “I’m no expert, but I love the show Vikings. Weren’t Vikings and knights two separate things?”
Her comment surprised him. His role was one of the little inanities about his job that he especially hated, because she was right—Vikings were Germanic Norse seafarers, while knights were European mounted soldiers. But The Legend of Camelot wasn’t exactly concerned with historical accuracy, which he was about to share with her when his attention was diverted by the man standing behind her.
“The sword in the stone, the sword in the stone,” he whispered, his head bent down, his body swaying in a gentle rhythm.
She looked up at the man, still smiling, her satiny voice deep and kind. “That’s right, Ryan. Camelot. Just like in The Sword in the Stone.” Turning back to Colt, her little shoulders bunched up as she shrugged. “He loves Disney movies.”
Colt nodded, his gaze resting on Ryan for a moment. The man appeared to be in his thirties, but he was childlike in the way he spoke and