Lancelot of the Pines (Louisiana Knights Book 1) Read Free Page A

“Yeah. Until it’s a weapon of yours.”
    “Well, sure. But I have to say you look naked without your equipment. Being on leave must suck, you not being able to swagger around with it hanging off you.”
    Lance gave him a jaundiced look as he slid into the booth. He did feel too light. He’d never admit it, however, not even under torture. “Do I still get free cop coffee, or do I have to pay?”
    “You can have whatever Zeni will bring you. Just don’t expect too much.”
    “This not a good day?”
    “I asked her to make me a hot dog a few minutes ago, and she told me I already was one. Do you think she meant I’m ‘hawt’ or what?”
    “Doubt she thinks anything about you.”
    Trey gave a deep sigh. “I licked her hand like a good doggie, but it got me nowhere.”
    “Imagine that.”
    “Don’t encourage him, Lancelot,” Zeni said as she appeared at the booth to set a cup in front of him and then fill it from the steaming carafe on the tray she carried. “I only have two bottles of hand sanitizer left.”
    “I’ll buy you a case if you’ll let me lick your face.” Trey did his best to look soulful.
    “Eww. Pass.” She set off a doughnut and napkin-wrapped stainless utensils, centered them in front of Lance, and turned to walk away.
    “Hey, where’s mine?” her boss asked.
    “You don’t get any until you figure out the difference between rude and romantic.”
    “I can lick romantically if you’ll tell me how!” Trey called as she kept walking.
    “Can’t do it, but I’ll know it if I feel it,” she said over her shoulder.
    “Fine. Maybe I can practice on a doughnut!”
    She snorted. “You want it, you can come get it.”
    “Does that work with you?”
    She gave him an index finger over her shoulder. It might not have been her middle one, but there wasn’t a grinning fool in the place who didn’t know what she meant by it.
    That folks laughed instead of being put off, even the older ones, was a minor miracle in Chamelot, but that was Zeni. She was one of a kind with her rainbow-colored hair, small, gold nose ring and tattoo on her back so large parts of it were always visible. No one knew where she came from or if Zeni was her real name, yet everyone liked her sassy attitude, not to mention her ultra-curvaceous shape usually shown off by a constantly changing array of tank tops over the same short blue jean skirt topped by an apron exactly the same length.
    Trey was forever threatening to fire her. It was all talk; Zeni was too good at what she did and had too much entertainment value. Besides, doing his best to rile and beguile her while constantly getting shot down was the spice of his life at the moment.
    A group of teens over in a corner seemed to be getting extra fun out of the exchange. They elbowed each other, rolling around in the booth as they giggled and guffawed. It was only as Lance caught the waving, sword-wielding motion of their arms, heard the half-smothered chortles of “Lancelot! Oh my God! It’s killing me!” that he realized he was the butt of their horseplay.
    It wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last. His lips tightened as he turned his attention to his coffee and doughnut.
    “Should I throw their skinny butts out of here?” Trey asked.
    Lance shook his head. “They don’t know the story.”
    “Right, and wouldn’t understand if they did.”
    Rising, Trey picked up his empty cup that was sitting on the table and went to pour himself a refill. Lance watched him go while a wry smile tugged at his lips. It was likely no one knew the whole tale except the three of them—Trey, who was actually Tristan, Beau, who was saddled with Galahad as a moniker, and him.
    It started with the name of their town, of course, Chamelot being an Old French spelling for the mythical Camelot of King Arthur fame. To capitalize on it, the locals hosted an annual medieval fair, as well as a tour of the area’s old mansions and pageant highlighting local history. Their