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

she releases a guttural breath. This woman is dangerous. All my blood has left my brain. I’m on reaction mode now.

“Ah... Rosemary... what you do to me.”

Her hands are everywhere. Heat-seeking missiles desperate for skin on skin contact. She seems to especially like the firm sinews of my forearms. Also, a stealthy finger finds its way between the buttons of my shirt to make sure my abs are in working order.

Don’t tempt me, woman. I am not that attached to this shirt.

Something like a growl rumbles within me. We’re coming in fast and furious, hot on the runway. It pains me to slow it down. Too many years of longing have led to this moment. I’m ready. I’ve been ready for a long time. But I don’t want to come on too strong. She’s too important to me. I want to do this right.

I cup her face, brushing my lips on hers with feather-light touches. Her eyes are drugged and heavy and her rosy lips are plump and raw. She looks like a woman who’s been properly and thoroughly kissed. I love to see her like this. She’s so sexy. I’ll do anything for her. I’ll feed her grapes and rub her feet. I’ll drop chocolate chips on her tongue. I’ll bring her sweet wine. I’ll lasso the moon.

She lifts her gaze to meet mine as our breathing calms. There’s a dialogue where words fail us. “You have my heart,” I say with my eyes. “Take it and do what you will. I’m yours.”

She sucks in a breath and her eyes go round, rimmed with a trace of salt tears. No, please no. I spooked her.

“I can’t do this.” She steps away, trembling. “It’s all wrong.”

“Please, Rosemary. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Her features grow stern. “I know you didn’t. It was a mistake.”

She puts some distance between us, and my heart rips from my chest.

“Wait.” I reach for her but she recoils. I manage a feeble hold on her pinky. “Let’s talk.”

“There’s nothing to say. Emotions are high because we’re trapped in here. I get it. You’re tired... or bored. It didn’t mean anything.”

“Don’t say that. That kiss...”

“Shouldn’t have happened.” She turns away and leaves me behind, taking her shoes with her.

“Where are you going?” She’s still stuck with me, after all.

She answers back without turning around. “To pee.”

7

ROSEMARY

My reflection stares back at me from the bathroom mirror and I’m reaching for some kind of affirmation to offer her. I don’t know any real ones. What was that one from Saturday Night Live? I’m good enough. I’m smart enough. And doggone it, people like me.

I don’t like me very much right now, so what kind of message does that broadcast to the world? I just turned down Ingram Connery Prescott the Third. That was either extremely wise or extremely stupid. I still haven’t decided which. Maybe I could have rolled with it. See where it led. Risked another heartbreak. Gotten in a few more earth-shattering kisses. Whew. He was freaking on fire. Rocking my world upside down. My skin still feels tingly all over.

Darn it, Ingram, why did you have to go there?

“And you.” I point at the girl in the mirror. Her eyes are rimmed with pink and a little puffy. Unlike the club lights in the warehouse, the bathroom fluorescents are unforgiving. It’s not a pretty sight. “Why did you let him get you hot and bothered?”

I felt up his abs for Pete’s sake. I bang my head on the mirror.

Then again, he was doing some things to me, too. Things I liked very much indeedy. I was under his manly spell. He coerced me. I plead temporary insanity, Your Honor.

I splash water on my face and freshen up the best I can. Welp, no use overreacting. I can’t avoid the man all night. Or can I? Nope. I’ll go out there and face him like the grown-up I am. He’s not my childhood crush. He’s just a dude.

I get back to the scene of the crime to find another bed of flour bags. It’s bigger than the first one Ingram made and covered with a fire blanket—or maybe it’s a large oven mitt. Whatever it is, and wherever he found it, I’m sure it’s better than nothing. My heart goes a little soft at the gesture. There’s no hope for me, is there?

Ingram’s on the smaller stack of flour sacks with his head bent down. His fingers hold chunks of his hair. Does he realize I’m here? If I’m quiet enough, maybe he’ll reveal his deep, dark secrets and I’ll feel much better about my non-pep talk in the bathroom.

“Why?”

Hark! He speaks.

He lifts his head and levels me with his weary eyes.

“Just tell me why, Rose. Do you have a boyfriend? Is that it?”

“No.” I’m probably too quick with my answer.

“Then why? What did I do wrong?”

What. Did. He. Do. Wrong. Hmmmm.

“How much time do you have?”

He waves his arms in a sweeping circle. “I’ve got nowhere to go.”

Right. Moment of truth. Somehow the sweet taste of vindication I’d dreamed of isn’t all that delicious. I’d rather shove this whole bag of flour in my mouth than unearth this old hurt. But the shovel’s already in the ground, so here goes.

“My Senior prom.”

“I don’t follow.”

“My Senior prom, Ingram. My Senior PROM!”

“Okay, got it. Your Senior prom. What happened at your Senior prom?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

He runs his palm over his face. That same strong palm he had all over me fifteen minutes ago. Gah! Focus. I’m supposed to be angry.

“I’m sorry, Rosemary, but I don’t get what this has to do with us. I wasn’t at your prom.”

“Exactly.”

He grunts and pushes up to his full height. He’s giving me the hair show again, pacing and mussing his silky locks.

“Throw me a bone, here. I really don’t get how your Senior prom has anything to do with... that hot kiss. Or why you ran out of here. Did some guy hurt you? Broke your heart?”

“YES!” I scream.