Home > The Care and Feeding of an Alpha Male (Bluebonnet #2)(4)

The Care and Feeding of an Alpha Male (Bluebonnet #2)(4)
Author: Jessica Clare

“Think you’ll move out soon?”

“Lord, I hope so.” She didn’t think she’d be able to stand another few months living under her parents’ roof. “Any luck with the search?”

She heard Miranda clicking around on the other side of the computer, and then a stifled giggle. “Does it involve guys that dress up like hobbits?”

“That’s probably it,” Beth Ann said with a sigh. The rain didn’t appear to be letting up. Just her luck. “Does it say anything about camping?”

“Ooo, there’s a Tournament of Knights this weekend in Arcane Forest.”

“Arcane Forest?”

“Apparently it’s some privately owned property not far from the Daughtry Ranch.”

Masculine murmuring rumbled in the background. Miranda laughed again. “Dane says to tell you that he’s run into them before on the ranch property. They get pissy if you don’t address them properly when they are in costume.” She paused, then chuckled. “He just told me he was berated by a man in a fur loincloth while scouting a trail.”

“A fur loincloth?” Man, she hoped his name was not Colossus. She steered toward the next exit. “Never mind about the loincloth, honey. I don’t think I want to know. What exit do I need to take?”

Miranda walked her through the directions until Beth Ann had them memorized. “Thanks for your help, Mir.”

“Call me back if you meet a handsome, dashing wizard.”

“Very funny.”

“Do you need help?”

“No, I’ve got this covered.” Surely it wouldn’t be too hard to find Lucy. She’d just look for the most normal girl there.

“It’s no trouble. Dane says we can send maybe Colt or Grant your way—”

Beth Ann groaned. Miranda frequently mentioned Grant in Beth Ann’s presence, and she was starting to wonder if it was because Grant was wealthy, good-looking, and single. It smelled of a hookup. And Colt? Miranda knew better. Colt was a jerk. “Do not even think about sending anyone my way. You are not setting me up with one of Dane’s friends.”

“It’s not a hookup! I promise. But it sounds like you could use a hero—”

“I don’t, I promise. Now, I’ve got to go. Talk to you later.” She clicked off the phone just as the rain began to pour down in torrents. She made a left at a colorful wooden sign stuck in the side of the road—almost missed it, actually—and started to go down a dirt road that was quickly turning to mud. Yuck. Not that she had a choice.

The woods were dark and, around these parts, there were no lights to see by. It was made all the more dark and creepy by the fact that she was driving down some deserted road late at night, and she had no clue where she was going.

Definitely time to move back out again, she thought to herself. Ever since she’d been forced to move back in, she’d been pulled between her headstrong mother and equally headstrong younger sister. An apartment next month, she decided. Didn’t matter how small it was. As it was, when things at home got a little hairy, she retreated to her salon. She had an air mattress on the floor in the back room, next to where she kept the tanning bed. It served as a getaway well enough, though it was time for something more permanent.

A line of cars appeared in the distance, and her little Volkswagen skidded in the mud as she turned into an equally sludgy dirt parking lot. Stumps lined the edges of the parking lot, and a veritable fleet of vehicles of all makes and shapes were parked haphazardly. She noticed a row of Porta-Potties off to one side, and a small, lit cloth pavilion across from it. Well. This must be the place.

Beth Ann parked her car between two pickups that looked as if they’d seen better days. She searched vainly for an umbrella in the backseat. Finding none, she sighed and tucked her keys in her purse, then got out of the car.

Rain pounded on her head, immediately turning her elegant updo into a flat mess. The splatters hit her bare arms and she looked down at her sequined, strappy heels and winced. They were already starting to stick in the mud of the parking lot. Ugh. She picked her way carefully across the sea of cars, heading toward the tent. She could hear people laughing, and someone was playing a flute of some kind. Her shoe skidded in the mud once, and she nearly fell facefirst.

Lucy was getting an earful when she found her, Beth Ann decided. She approached the tent and two men in bright, colorful baggy pants appeared. One wore a fur hat that was getting soaked in the rain, and the other’s head was shaved bald.

They both looked to be much, much older than Lucy or her boyfriend. Surprised, Beth Ann crossed her arms, hugging her already-soaked formal dress to her body. “I’m sorry, is this the big QuestMaster shindig?”

The shaved man made a flourish with his hand and bowed to her. “Good eve, milady.”

Okay. “I’m guessing yes? I’m looking for Lucy. Lucy Williamson. She’s here tonight.”

The man in the fur hat peered at her through the rain and then drank a large gulp from the enormous beer mug in his hand. “Sounds like a mundane name to me.”

“Mundane? I’m not sure I follow—”

“Mundane, fair wench,” Baldy said with a leer at her wet form, “Is what you be, lass.”

A man laughed uproariously inside the tent.

Well, wasn’t this fun. “Look. I just want to find Lucy. Can you call her?”

“There be no mundane technology allowed on the Quest grounds for the duration of the Tourney, milady.”

“Super. I’ll just call her phone myself.” She dug through her purse and tugged out her phone.

The furred-hat one immediately put his hand over her own. “Ye’ll not be needing that, wench.”

All right, now. It was raining, and muddy, and she was starting to get a little irritated at this “wench” business. “That’s nice and all, but my sister is grounded, and I need to bring her home before she gets into even more trouble.” She jerked her hand away from his with a polite smile and held the phone up. No service.

Fiddlesticks.

She gestured at the path leading into the woods. A rickety wooden gate covered it and she could see a few cook fires and lights in the distance, and heard the sound of laughter. “Is that where all the campers are? I’ll just head over and look for her—”

The bald one stepped in front of the gate. “Milady, you must first pay the entry fee if you wish to join the Tourney.”

   
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