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

man. When he caught sight of me in that oversized luxury seat with lots of legroom, his eye twitched—just a tiny bit. I could hear the sneers of his inner voice say, “Figures.” I’d seen that look before. Poor little rich girl.

He shook his head and chuckled before adjusting the strap of the mesh dog carrier on his shoulder and then slugged onward. Back to the backity back back. Who was this guy to judge me anyway? He was probably one of those inconsiderate hobos who didn’t clean after their dog did its business. I could just picture him shaking his head all the way down the aisle.

Whatever.

It wasn’t my idea to purchase a first-class ticket. My brother bought it, all the while scolding me for waiting too long to book my flight. He’d said something about guaranteeing my seat since I’d already missed out on a direct flight, it being the holidays and all. But I wasn’t about to apologize for Christmas.

I settled in with a small town romance on my Kindle while the plane taxied and took off. A few minutes after we hit cruising altitude I overheard a hushed confrontation between a flight attendant and a lady with a toddler.

“I’m sorry, ma'am. You’ll have to take your seat,” the flight attendant said. Her hair was pinned in a tight French twist and her navy blue skirt looked like it was cutting off her circulation. An extremely wiggly child in pigtails squirmed in the passenger’s arms. She appeared to be training for cirque de soleil the way she was bending backwards.

“It’s just she was climbing off my lap. I’ll go right back when the seatbelt sign is on.”

“We can’t allow passengers to walk freely around the cabin. We have to get through with the beverage service.”

The tired mom scanned the first-class area, gesturing to the empty seat. “I’ll be out of your way in here.”

“This area is restricted. I have to ask you to return to your seat.”

The poor woman hitched the squirrely little girl on her hip and disappeared down the aisle after the flight attendant drew the curtain. This was followed by silly squeaks and squeals so high-pitched, a coloratura soprano would be jealous. A few people laughed but I figured there were others who didn’t appreciate the joyful noises of a toddler.

When the flight attendant returned my way I called her to me. “That woman with the baby. Is she traveling alone?”

She twisted her brows and gave me a confused expression. “Yes, I believe she is, Miss Darcy.”

Miss Darcy. This lady knew who I was, or rather, who my brother was. His name was on my itinerary since he paid for the flight. A celebrity brother had its perks even though it was annoying.

“I would like to switch seats with her.”

Her confused expression turned to shock. Or she was appalled. I couldn’t figure out which. “I….uh…I’ll have to ask my supervisor.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” I gathered my things, which consisted of a small purse and my Kindle. “I’ll just pop into the bathroom while you lead her up here. Then you can show me my new seat.”

I didn’t wait for her response. I took my time in the first-class bathroom, flossing my teeth and re-applying my lip-gloss. By the time I finished, the little girl and the mom were gleefully sharing the seat I vacated with lots of room to wiggle and roam in peace.

I was feeling pretty darn good about my Christmas good deed, smiling to myself as the flight attendant led me toward the rear—until I got there.

“This is you. The middle seat.”

Yikes. No wonder the tike couldn’t sit still. The seat was tiny and the older woman in the aisle seat hardly tucked in her legs to let me pass. There was approximately three inches between her and the seat in front of her. But the real shocker was the person who occupied the window seat. I first noticed the bag tucked under the seat and a little black nose peeking out from under the folds of mesh. Big, brown eyes regarded me, sorrowfully imploring to be let out—and maybe to jump on me. Again. Reeses and his human stared at me incredulously. The latter, a little more bemused than the other.

“Bored with champagne and caviar?” His elbow was on my armrest.

“What?”

“I saw you in the fancy section. Were you curious how the other half lives? Or did they kick you out?”

I nudged my right elbow, knocking his off the armrest. “Nope. I’m just hoping to get attacked by your dog again.”

“Attacked?” He laughed. “Yeah, those doggie kisses are mighty lethal.”

Charming.

“How do you know I’m not allergic?”

“If you’re allergic, you probably shouldn’t have tried to pet Reeses earlier.”

“I wasn’t trying to pet your…Reeses. I was trying to get through your entourage of jail bait so I could plug in my phone.”

At that point Dog Man‘s lip twitched. I thought at first he was trying to hold back a guilty grin but there was more to it than that. His features spread out to reveal a mouthful of teeth. I’m talking really nice teeth. But that’s beside the point. He was laughing at me. Laughing. At me. The nerve—especially after all the trouble he’d caused me. To crown the whole, his little dog considered the laughter an invitation to join the fun because he slipped out of his mesh bag and jumped on his human’s lap. No biggie. Just a dog on a plane.

Here’s where I feel I should add a little disclaimer. I loved dogs. Adored them actually. I couldn’t have pets where I lived, but if I could, I’d have adopted a dog. For the time being, I had to settle for visits to California where I got to snuggle with my brother’s cocker spaniel to my heart’s content. So I had absolutely nothing against Reeses. But I was a rule follower and I was pretty sure dogs had to stay put in their carriers while in flight. Dog Man didn’t