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

purse which was still inside the guest room. My TJ Maxx special. The little golden clutch that matched my dress was currently next to Georgia’s piano where I set it before dinner. My cell phone was in there, along with the lip stain for touchups. I didn’t need any touchups, though. Julie was right about that. I blushed at the thought. The color-stay did come in handy—for all the kissing.

There was a length of silence that could have been awkward, but remarkably, it wasn’t. Then he suggested we take a ‘tour of the grounds,’ as he put it. I laughed inwardly because that was an incredibly posh thing to say, but it came out so casually, like he was asking if I’d like a beer or to watch TV. With an offer like that, how could a girl refuse? So, he led me past the tennis courts, down a stone path, and to a crest overlooking the city lights. He had some avocado and citrus trees and a few quiet places to sit along the way that I fantasized would be great places to read a book or maybe do something creative like draw. I wondered if he did stuff like that. I would if I lived in a house like that.

As we meandered the ‘grounds,’ we talked about nothing in particular, laughing at the light and breezy banter we exchanged so easily. He gave me his coat when the warmth of our adrenaline wore off and told me about things like his first film. I admitted I’d seen it. Then I unabashedly admitted I kind of sort of binge watched his Fast and Dangerous movies, imputing it to research or some other nonsense. He raised one brow.

“Research, huh?”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

He asked about my family, and I told him about my practical father, my overbearing mother, and my holier-than-thou but somewhat shy little sister. We discussed things like my college experience, shows I’d done, the long hours of his youth spent on set with his dad, or getting into trouble snooping around backstage at the Gardiner. I was surprised to learn how familiar he was to the ins and outs of the theatre. He was practically brought up there.

As we trailed the perimeter and found the path back to the house, I made an off-the-cuff comment about the size of his property.

“This is a lot of house for one and a half residents,” I said brightly.

I didn’t mean to imply anything, just a joke really. But a shadow overcame his features, and his tone grew serious.

“It was my dad’s intention to fill this house with a large family.” He slowed his pace and snapped a twig from a bush. “But after my sister was born, my mom got ovarian cancer. So that was that.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered even though I knew it was a lame reaction. I’m sure he’d heard it all in the sympathy department. Who knows why he was even telling me all this but once he began, it was like he couldn’t stop.

He told me about how hard his dad took it when his mother died. He was so lost without her, he remarried a few, short years later. Blindly. Everybody, including Stella, advised him against it. And for good reason, too. The woman was a gold digger, and Martin Darcy didn’t believe in a prenup.

“The house was in my mother’s name, but she got everything else,” he said with a trace of regret. He shrugged it off and smiled brightly. “We probably missed dessert.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I’m more of a savory treat kind of gal.”

“Like pork rinds?”

“Eww. No.”

“I’m just kidding.” He laughed. His laugh was contagious. I decided I could probably laugh myself silly over nothing at all as long as he was laughing too. I think we were a little slap happy to own the truth. I was so lost in the mirth of it all, I lost my footing, and the heel of the ludicrously expensive shoes I wore, wobbled under my weight, and I tumbled over, nearly falling on my face. Will’s arms swiftly broke my fall. The warmth of his body enveloped me as he caught me around the waist, but not before my ankle did something wonky, and a tearing sensation shot through my ligaments.

“Brother Jeremiah!” I cried. I could already feel the swelling. But the dull pain was nothing compared to the embarrassment of injuring myself in front of Will—again. I lifted my eyes to his with the intention of sucking it up to save face. Like it was no big deal. I guess I expected him to at least pretend to be concerned. But his eyes were stunned wide, and he had the goofiest grin frozen on his face.

“Why am I getting a crazy clown vibe from you?” I asked suspiciously. “Are you okay?”

He should have been asking me if I was okay. I was the one with a gimpy ankle. But his grin widened, and he shook his head.

“It’s your Something Rotten day.”

“Ummm… yeah?”

“Something Rotten,” he repeated as if it was a wonderful thing. “That’s why…”

His words tapered off into internal thoughts.

“That’s why what?” I questioned. Unfinished sentences were one of my pet peeves.

“Nothing.” He shrugged and made a meh face. “Never mind.”

Grrr. A meh face. Impossible! I was poised to pounce—figuratively. But he remembered to be a gentleman and carried me into the house and got me some ice from his wet bar, so I overlooked the offense.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked with genuine concern. “Can I get you anything else?”

I was more than comfortable. I could happily die on the sofa I was lounging on, like floating on clouds. And no wonder. It wasn’t a new fancy, designer sofa. This particular piece of furniture, like the rest in the room, had character and was worn with age.

We were in the den by the looks of it. This room had Will’s signature written all over it. A big-screen TV with video game consoles attached haphazardly, books on