Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set by Gigi Blume (ebook reader with highlighter txt) 📕

to the diversity found in the most distant corners of the world. But never had I ever beheld the singular, outlandish abomination that was Lucas Lodge. Where would one even begin to describe this place? The entryway was akin to an old-timey Las Vegas casino. I think I’d seen the same carpeting at Circus Circus. As I made my way through the front lounge, the floor yielded to checkered tile that I imagined Alice encountered in her adventures in Wonderland, except in place of the White Rabbit, a silver-haired, ostentatious man greeted us in a garish, peacocky sort of fashion and loudly introduced himself as Sir William Lucas. He tripped all over himself in effusions of outrageous salutations and, beseeching me for an autographed photo to hang on his wall, he directed Bing and me to our seats at a booth covered in leopard-print fur. I most likely would have paid little attention to his ramblings anyhow, but I found myself more disinterested than usual as I scanned the restaurant for a sight of Beth. I told myself I was just curious and nothing more, imputing my desire to see her to the virtues of pride. Yes, pride, and justifiably so. I wasn’t to be castigated by a waitress.

‘You dropped something’ she’d said. ‘Oh, it’s just your tact’.

I couldn’t see a trace of her without craning my neck, drawing attention to myself. Perhaps she had the night off. That would be the best scenario. I was beginning to relax when we were greeted tableside by the small voice of our waitress. Beth. How could it be we were seated in her section? Fate was an ugly visitor sometimes. By the looks of it, she wasn’t any more thrilled by the situation than I was. We’d be forced to… exchange pleasantries!

She shifted her weight to one foot, making her hip jut out to one side as her eyes locked onto mine, narrowing into slits.

“Really?”

My thoughts exactly.

“Okay, whatever.” She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. “I bid thee welcome, good sirs. Dost thou care for an ale or perhaps a robust mead?”

She was using an over-the-top English accent and if I wasn’t completely mortified by the whole business of being found in her section, I’d have been immensely amused.

I contemplated an escape as she rambled through the specials. Honestly, I didn’t hear a word she said. I was too busy planning my own death hoax, wondering how to stage an alien invasion, or plotting a distraction by way of fire—anything to get away from her. I half consciously heard Bing order a drink then excuse himself to the men’s room, but I was overwhelmed by my inability to concentrate. Beth wore this atrocious wench costume, and I couldn’t help but ogle at the way the bodice accentuated her curves. It was like her figure was teasing me, dancing in my line of vision, just waiting to be—

“Have you decided, My Lord?” her little voice squeaked, erecting a blockade upon my thoughts.

“What?”

“I have to address the guests of Sir William Lucas with a title. May I call you ‘My Lord,’ or do you prefer another royal title?”

“Oh,” I croaked. What kind of crackpot place was this? She waited for my reply, but she kept looking over her shoulder impatiently. Why couldn’t I just order a beer or something and get this over with?

“Um,” I said, taken by surprise. “I am the Pirate King, so you can call me… Your Majesty?”

Where the blazes did that come from?

She placed a hand on her tiny little waist and scowled at me. “Very well, Your Majesty, shall we pour the pirate sherry or would a Bud Lite be your pleasure?”

My pleasure? The way she looked in that costume—I drew a blank.

“Dilly dilly.”

That, my friends, was the ridiculous reply my blood-deprived brain offered. What was wrong with me?

“Bud Lite it is,” she said rather salty and turned on her heel in the fastest exodus imaginable. She walked away from me again, and I wasn’t in any more control than I had been earlier in the day. She infuriated me to no end.

The form of another female slipped her way into my vicinity. This one wasn’t any more pleasant than Beth, but at least she didn’t get under my skin. Caroline sat herself down next to me and scooted her hips flush against mine on the furry bench seat. She certainly wasn’t very shy. I’d had my share of bold women, but I wasn’t in the mood at present.

“I bet I can guess what you’re thinking,” she said huskily.

“I doubt it,” I replied laconically.

She held a fruity-looking cocktail and set it down on the table to free her hands to turn my chin towards her face. Whoa! She wore a lot of makeup. She smiled coquettishly and ran her tongue along her top teeth. Checking for rogue lipstick perhaps?

“I’m really good at this game,” she purred. “Stare into my eyes.”

I really wasn’t in the mood for this, and I let my expression show it. Maybe she’d get the hint and leave me be. And why hadn’t Bing returned?

“You’re thinking about how disastrous rehearsal was today,” she said.

“Not really.”

“Well, it’s not a very happy thought by the look on your face.”

“You think?” My reply was laced with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

She adjusted, positioning herself up on her knees so her head was at my level and stared intently over my features.

“Hmm. I know. You’re thinking about how stupid this party is.”

“I’d hardly call this a party.”

She inched a little closer. “It can be if you want it to.”

I did my best in the distracted state of mind I was in to expose her lack of logic. “As you said, if this were a party, I’d think it’s stupid.”

She opened her mouth to reply but must have thought better of it and clamped it shut.

“In any case,” I continued, “that’s not what I was thinking.”

In an overt, suggestive manner, she wrapped her lips around her straw and took a long