Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set Gigi Blume (fantasy books to read .txt) 📖

“Goodness, Jaxson. Knock first.”

“I did—and was scolded in Spanglish.”

Her expression softened, and she inclined her head with a smile. “Rosario gets a little cross when someone interrupts her work. I think she’s doing inventory on all her cleaners and intends to send Mum the bill for tossing them in the bin.”

She noticed the jumbo box of Goldfish in my arms, and her grin spread wider across her face.

“Aw, Jax, you shouldn’t have.”

“Only the best for my gal.”

She took the box from me as though it were two dozen roses and thanked me with a polite peck on the jaw. Again with the jaw. It was rapidly becoming my favourite place on my face. I followed her progress into the pantry, noting her dainty barefooted steps and wondering why I put myself through this torture. She proudly displayed my gift on the pantry shelf right next to another Goldfish box of equal size.

“I see Rosario made a Costco run,” I said, noting the giant packages that lined the shelves.

“She did, but only you thought to bring me the Extra Cheesy flavour.”

She winked and spun around. Once again, I trailed behind her, watching the swish of her dress and the patter of her feet on the hardwood floors.

She fell into easy chatter about sundry topics. Safe topics border-lining on small talk. It was almost as though she was avoiding eye contact—or any contact—as she scurried around the house looking under pillows and mindlessly stuffing items in her purse. I laughed when she could hardly fit anything else in there after depositing a pillar candle and a vase of fake flowers.

“Are you robbing your own house or packing for a glamping trip?”

She stopped and looked at her purse, seeing the items for the first time. Too flushed to admit to temporary insanity, she blinked prettily and forced a light chuckle.

“Oh, ya know. Just moving things around so Rosario can dust. She’s annoyingly particular that way.” Emma stomped to the other side of the room and screeched loudly as she rummaged through the entertainment cabinets. “Rosario! Where are my blasted boots?”

“Do you suppose she stored them alphabetically between the books and DVDs?” I asked in a completely serious tone.

She shut the cabinet doors with a thud and winced. “Maybe?”

“Listen, Emma—”

“I’ll just wear these,” she said, grabbing a pair of rubber wellies.

“Dare I ask why Rosario hid your boots?”

“For your information, she made me take them off the other day because I was soiling her floors. Her floors. I have no idea what she did with them after that.”

I found it mildly amusing how it didn’t faze Emma one bit when her maid rebuked her for tracking dirt on the floor. There was an interesting dynamic between them. Rosario was more of a matronly figure than anything else. No wonder she clashed with Mrs Woods.

“Are you going somewhere?” In that dress?

She waved her hand around like it was a trip to the supermarket. “Oh, I have a thing.”

I swallowed a lump of something tasting peculiarly like jealousy when I asked, “With Frank?” I regretted it the moment the words left my lips.

“He’ll be there, I imagine.”

“Oh.”

A shadow overspread her features, and she paused, biting her bottom lip as she looked at me. I wasn’t sure what she saw. Most likely a right mess—at least that’s how I felt.

“Do you want to come?” She wore the sweetest expression, border-lining on pity. Yeah, I was that pathetic. “It’s a PR event for the fragrance line, but it might be fun.”

“Me? Nah. I’ve got a thing, too. I’ve got to… alphabetize my footwear.”

“Hmmm. You don’t want to put that off.”

“Absolutely not. Those trainers aren’t going to itemize themselves.”

“Quite right.”

I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I stood there, staring at her like an idiot, and she looked at me in turn, a charge between us but with a trace of fear. I wasn’t familiar with it. I didn’t get to where I was in my life from giving in to fears. I knew what I wanted, and I went for it. How else does a country boy from Australia with grand dreams make it in showbiz? Determination, sweat, and a little luck thrown in for good measure. Why shouldn’t I go to the Oscars? It was our tradition.

“Emma, about the Oscars—”

Rosario interrupted me by throwing a pair of suede boots at her feet.

“Next time, taking it off before you come in.” Then she pointed at them with an angry finger. “Mucho hard to clean. Is too much. No walking to the dirt for you.”

She cast her eyes to the ceiling and huffed, walking off into her lair of fury. Emma blinked and returned her attention to me after a beat.

“I’m sorry. What were you talking about?”

“The Oscars.”

She sat down, sliding her boots onto her feet one at a time. “Don’t worry about that. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“Aren’t you going to put on socks?”

“Yes, I suppose so.” She took off her shoes in the same fashion. “Anyway, it worked out because Frank doesn’t have a plus one, so he asked me.”

To the Oscars? She was going with Frank… and not with me. Our tradition. Granted, I told her I wasn’t going. But I had a right to change my mind. Now she would walk the red carpet with that dongo. After a pause in which we stared at each other for a long, awkward minute, I thought it best I go home, or at least somewhere I wouldn’t be near Emma.

“I better let you go put some socks on. I don’t want to keep you.”

Emma’s lips dipped into a pouty frown.

“Yeah, and you can’t be late for your shoe thing.”

“Indeed not.”

She hugged me as she’d done for years, but now I was hyper-aware of all the little touches, the meaningless brush of her fingertips on my shirt, the softness of her body as I wrapped my arms around her back.

We parted ways and as I slugged out to my car,