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

I had to bring him round to reality somehow, but unable to get a word in, I abruptly stood. This put a brief pause to his speech, which gave me a succinct moment to say, “Look, I have to get back to work. You’re a really nice guy, but you’ve got the wrong girl. I’m just not—”

Mr. Lucas cut my rejection short by his appearance tableside.

“Welcome, weary Knight,” he announced. “If it is sustenance you seek, Lucas Lodge has a royal feast prepared. Come sup with us at our buffet table, drink ale and make yourself known at court.”

He bowed low to Colin with dramatic flair.

“I am Sir William Lucas. And what may we call you, good sir?”

Colin took about five seconds to take in the sight of Mr. Lucas in his medieval costume and finding himself quite equal to a man as ridiculous as he and fitting in magnificently, he returned the greeting with a bow of his head.

“Colin Hunsford at your service.”

Nerd alert. If any two humans were ever so perfectly matched, it was those two. I might have believed it if I were told we were teleported to Renaissance Faire, but the turkey legs at our buffet weren’t big enough, and the hippies at table five waved for their check.

Mr. Lucas, noticing the table void of a place setting and the condiment tray, turned a severe eye to me and scolded, “Lady Elizabeth, what is the meaning of these inhospitable accommodations? Where are the table ornaments?”

The table ornaments, I would have liked to say, were put away because the section was closed. My shift was also a mere ten minutes from ending. I also wanted to add that the last time I checked I wasn’t on the menu, but Colin ogled me like Wiley E. Coyote looked at the Roadrunner.

“Lady Elizabeth,” said Colin, “is all the ornament needed.”

He batted his eyes, fluttering them over his rosy cheeks. No human could have eyelashes that long. He had to have been wearing falsies.

“I see that you’re a man of taste,” replied my boss.

Oh, brother.

Turning to me, he said, “Put in an order of York Buffalo Wings for our guest. On the house.”

Should I have reminded him the cooks were gone for the day? Maybe. I’m sure the dishwasher didn’t know how to operate the deep fryer. I didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to get yelled at in Spanish. All I wanted was to grab my yams and head for the door. The hippie table was still waving for their check. Or ketchup. I couldn’t quite tell.

Get the Wizzer out of here before Colin starts wedding plans.

I booked it to the kitchen, hoping he’d get discouraged and leave. Where the Fermin was Charlotte? Ugh! I was so distraught, I was mixing up my musicals. Falsettos and Phantom weren’t even in the same genre!

A minute later, the kitchen door swung open, but instead of Charlotte or even Mr. Lucas, Colin appeared bearing flowers he’d obviously stolen from the cornucopia at the buffet.

“Lady Elizabeth,” he said, wagging his brows. “I like the sound of it.”

No doubt he’d want to add the name Hunsford to my title. He hovered in the doorway with such pathetic hope in his expression, I almost felt sorry for him. He wasn’t a bad person. I just didn’t know how to get through to him that I wasn’t interested. Also, I was sure his presence in the kitchen was a violation of some health department code.

“We’re out of buffalo wings,” I lied.

“Why would I want the wings of a buffalo when I have an angel standing before me?”

Alrighty then.

“Colin, you don’t know me. I don’t know you. And I am no angel.”

“Ah contrary, mademoiselle.”

“What I mean to say is, once you get to know me, you’ll find we probably have almost nothing in common. For instance… I don’t wear rouge.”

He continued to advance toward me, intruding into the kitchen.

“This is a restaurant employee only area. If the health inspector pays us a surprise visit, he’ll shut us down.”

That did nothing to deter him. In fact, I think my rejection gave him more encouragement. “I like a girl who plays hard to get. It’s part of your charm, really.”

At this point, I was backing up so far, the small of my back collided with one of the stainless-steel prep tables.

“I can promise you, Colin,” I said as I felt my way around the counter to put a barrier between us, “I’m not playing hard to get. I’m not the kind of girl that plays games. Ask my best friend Charlotte. She can make you another Shirley Temple and tell you how NOT interested I am.”

“Maybe if I come back tomorrow—”

“No. Definitely do not come back tomorrow.”

“—you will change your mind.”

Seriously, it was like having a one-sided conversation, like when you accidentally press the mute button on your cell phone and the other person just keeps talking. Furthermore, he was inching his way around the prep table I was using as my makeshift barricade. Beyond the Barricade lyrics from Les Mis ran through my head in the worst possible way. The song played in a loop as I shuffled behind the counter in a stand-off with Colin. I’d scoot to the right and to the left like a basketball player, and he’d match me step for step. You know that scene from the first Jurassic Park movie? Yeah, it was like that. I was that brave little girl, and Colin was the velociraptor.

We could have gone on like that for hours had I not found a distraction. It wasn’t my finest moment, but I saw the opportunity, and I took it. The cooks had left a half-used bottle of cooking wine on the counter. It was the only defense I could find. I know what you’re thinking, but you’d be wrong if you guessed I used the bottle as a weapon. No, I didn’t break the bottle on the counter and point the