in a dramatic swoon. “Shit, I can’t even say it,” she moaned.
“If anyone needs a man, it’s you,” Lily said, her voice quavering with suppressed laughter. “Of course, we’ll have to make you a little less intimidating first.” Beth’s wardrobe choice of the day featured faded jeans, high tops and a t-shirt carrying the warning Caution: Bites when Provoked stretched tight over her ample chest.
“I’m not looking. Maybe this weekend I’ll run into Mr. Right Now, though.” Beth waggled her eyebrows. “There’s all kinds of men underfoot at the Castle and most of them are clean and have their own teeth. Shall we go see, m’dear?”
Lily gasped in mock astonishment. “Their own teeth, you say? Such a glowing endorsement, this I must see for myself.”
* * * *
Castle Wilde, the year round Renaissance festival park, was a new attraction in Central Florida but growing in popularity and size by leaps and bounds. The park wasn’t open yet for the day, but plenty of people were around working and setting up for the events. Beth chattered nonstop as they walked from the parking lot to the main gate. “They do all kinds of shows here, acrobats and minstrel bands, jousting, fencing, human chess–you name it. Some of them are street performances, so you never know when you’re going to walk smack into the middle of something.”
Looking up from his magazine, the guard at the gate waved them on through with a smile and the girls set off down the main boulevard.
“How long has it been since you’ve been here?” Beth asked.
“Not since they first opened.” Lily sighed. “After Lucas told me how he felt about this kind of stuff, I didn’t ask him to bring me again. I’ve wanted to come back, though.”
Beth nodded in sympathy. “What did he say when you told him you were getting a part-time job here reading cards?”
Lily rolled her eyes. To say Lucas hadn’t exactly been supportive was like saying a tornado was slightly breezy. “He does not approve. He told me I needed to grow up. You know he thinks the whole tarot thing is nonsense anyway, and you…well…you didn’t quite make the short list of his favorite people.”
Throwing a hand to her forehead dramatically, Beth sobbed. “Nooo…oh, wait. Don’t care,” she sang. They passed several large brightly colored tents, one of which had a wooden gypsy vardo parked next to it. “That’s our tent,” Beth said proudly. “They pull the sides up when it’s open. Wanna see?”
Inside, the tent was attractively decorated with colorful scarves and beads hanging from the ceiling, small round tables with dark fringed tablecloths and wooden chairs scattered throughout. Lily scanned the tent’s interior. “Wow,” she said. “I really haven’t read for that many people before, and…”
“Quit worrying–you’ll be great,” Beth assured her. “C’mon.”
Taking her by the hand, her friend led her past empty booths and carts that would be full of medieval wares later in the day. Further up the street, a group of men were busy painting a mural on one of the high cement barriers closer to the office. A lone man stood on a low scaffold, adding lush red roses and trailing vines to a painted trellis with quick, sure brushstrokes. Lily noticed him right away. He was younger than most of the other painters and obviously engrossed in his work.
“Major eye candy at one o’clock,” murmured Beth. Lily had to agree with her assessment. The lean, sun-bronzed man on the scaffold wore a Bucs ball cap, his long hair pulled back and banded into a tight ponytail. Muscular shoulders and arms glistened with the early morning humidity and the white ribbed tank top clung to the sculpted muscles of his chest and abdomen. His white painter’s pants rode low on narrow hips and bore occasional splashes of bright paint. Lily glanced back over her shoulder when they walked by and with a jolt realized the attractive man in the cap had stopped painting to watch them. He touched his fingers to the brim of the cap, tilted his head and gave her a dazzling grin. Lily offered him a shy smile before lowering her lashes and turning away, her cheeks flaming at having been caught looking.
Beth snickered under her breath. “You’re so busted,” she said.
“Good thing he can’t see my pulse too,” Lily mumbled, placing her hand on her chest in a futile attempt to slow down her wildly beating heart.
The kind-eyed man behind the desk smiled when they entered the office. “Good morning, Beth, it’s good to see you. This must be the friend you told us about. I’m Dan Wilde–welcome to my castle.”
Instantly charmed by his proper English accent, Lily stuck out her hand in greeting. “I’m Lily Evans, pleased to meet you.”
Dan stood and took her hand, giving it a firm but gentle shake. A bearded bear of a man, he towered over both girls. “That’s a lovely accent you have there. Is it real?” When Lily blinked in confusion, he laughed heartily. “Of course it is. Please forgive me. I’m used to dealing with actors all day.” He walked around the desk and leaned against it while he spoke. “So, Lily, read the cards, do you? Beth tells me you’re excellent at it. How soon can you start?”
Lily smiled at the easy job interview. “Would this weekend be soon enough? I could come in Friday after my regular job. I get off at four.”
“Brilliant,” he said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together.
“Dan and his wife Meghan are our monarchs so whenever you see them in costume, you’re supposed to curtsey,” Beth said. “There are other lords and ladies and sometimes the customers get dressed up too, then you don’t know who’s who at all. You’ll get used to it.”
Dan promised to have her paperwork ready when she got there on Friday. “Meg’s out of the office right now and I have no idea where she puts anything,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “I suspect she does it on purpose.” He ran a large hand through his mop of unruly brown hair. “Wait right there.” He loped off to an adjacent room, and upon returning, handed Lily a spiral bound employee handbook. “There will be a test,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching with humor.
Lily bobbed a quick curtsey and replied, “I’ll commit each and every word to memory, your majesty.”
Beth laughed. “See, I told you. She’ll be perfect!”
* * * *
The two women hadn’t been gone more than five minutes before the office front door opened again. The painter with the cap shuddered when the cold air conditioning met the sweat on his skin. “Jaysus, it’s like a freezer in here,” he groused good naturedly.
Dan looked up from his purchase orders and grinned at his visitor who was busily rooting around in the office refrigerator. “How’s the painting going?” he asked.
Ian Kelly, younger brother of his beloved Meg and Dan’s best friend since boyhood, plopped down on the leather sofa with his purloined soda. “It should be finished by this afternoon,” he said, looking around warily before snapping the tab. “Is my sister here?”
“No,” said Dan, “she’s out running errands.”
Ian relaxed and leaned back, rubbing the cold can on the sides of his face. “Good. Who was the blonde that was just in here?”
“Mmm?” Ignoring the question, Dan stacked the papers neatly to slip back into Meg’s inbox. “Hey, if you’re going to be done this afternoon, want to try to get in nine holes before dark?”
Ian rolled his eyes heavenward and heaved a dramatic sigh. “We both know,” he said, his soft brogue becoming even more pronounced, “the only reason you insist on dragging my incompetent arse onto the golf course is so you can feel better about that nasty slice you’ve developed.” He paused for a drink of soda. “As I have told you on numerous occasions–you may recall–I am Irish. The Scots excel at the wretched sport of golf while the Irish excel at drinking fine whisky and chasing after beautiful women, which brings us