Marrying Mr. Darcy (Love Manor #2) - Kate O'Keeffe Page 0,26
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“Aren’t you glad you’re missing that?” Chris asks, gesturing at the doors. “Man, he’s got to blow after that effort.”
“I think I’ll stay here for a while longer. I can’t trust myself to go back in there and not get the giggles again.”
“I’m with you on that, although I’m out here propping up the bar for an entirely different reason.”
“What’s that?”
“I think the technical term is ‘boredom.’”
“So, you’re not an opera buff either.”
“Do I look like an opera buff?”
I size him up. In his navy suit and open-neck pale blue shirt, he looks stylish and modern. “Actually, you do.”
“Ha! You don’t even know me, and you’re insulting me. Not cool, Texas. Not cool.”
“Are you saying I need to get to know you before I can insult you?”
As the words fall out of my mouth, I realize how flirty they sound, and I instantly edge away from him. It doesn’t matter that he’s built like Channing Tatum, has Liam Hemsworth’s jawline, with Bradley Cooper’s eyes. I’m in love with Sebastian. There’s no way I’m going to intentionally flirt with anyone else.
If he notices my sudden retreat, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he says, “Insult me all you like. I can take it.”
I take a gulp of my drink, the cool liquid slipping down my throat.
“What brings a Texan gal to England? Other than your love of the opera, clearly.”
“I came here for love,” I reply simply, and instantly feel weirdly relieved I get to talk about Sebastian to this guy.
Where did that come from?
“Love, huh? I thought you might have moved here to work at The Gherkin.”
“I just got engaged, actually.” I flash him my ring, and to my surprise he takes my hand in his and examines it.
“Impressive. Who’s the lucky guy?”
“His name is Sebastian. He’s English. I’m here with him and his granny, actually.”
Still holding my hand, he glances around the bar, empty but for him, me, and the server cleaning glasses. “Emma, I’m concerned. First you have a giggling fit then you tell me you’re engaged to some guy called Sebastian who it seems is invisible. Tell me, is this fiancé of yours imaginary?”
I laugh as I pull my hand away. I’m not going to sit next to some guy in a bar, holding his hand. “Of course he’s not. He’s in the theater.”
“I see. So, is he an octogenarian or just a toff who thinks liking opera will make him look smarter than he is?”
“He’s neither, thank you very much,” I sniff, although I admit I’m enjoying our chat. After the stress of trying—and failing once again—to impress Geraldine, it’s nice to simply have some fun. Fun that’s got nothing to do with the Huntington-Rosses. Even if things were getting a little unintentionally flirty a moment ago.
Inside the theatre, the music has come to a stop, and I can hear the audience applauding.
“Drink up, Texas,” Chris instructs as he downs the rest of his own drink. “We need to face the opera buffs, and take it from me, it’s best to do that with some alcohol in your bloodstream.”
The doors to the theater burst open, and people begin to pour out, their chatter filling the hall. I search the crowd for Sebastian, Jilly, and Geraldine.
“There you are, Emma,” Jilly says, rushing over to me. She stops in her tracks when her eyes land on Chris. “Oh. It’s you,” she says, breathless.
“That’s a fine way to greet your favorite ex,” Chris replies with a cheeky grin.
Wait, what? Chris and Jilly dated?
He gets to his feet and kisses a bewildered-looking Jilly on the cheek. “You’re looking gorgeous as always, Jill. I always loved you in orange.”
“Err, thank you,” she replies in an uncharacteristically timid way, color rising in her cheeks.
“You two know one another?” I ask them. Which is the dumbest question ever, considering they’ve just greeted one another and Chris said that Jilly’s his ex.
Chris slings his arm around Jilly’s shoulders, and she tightens up like a sailor’s knot. “Jill and I know each other well, don’t we?”
“Uh, yes, yes we do,” she replies curtly as she removes his arm from her shoulders. “You’ve been out here practicing your lines on my friend Emma, have you? Because you needn’t waste your time, you know, Chris. Emma’s engaged.”
“And it’s a stunning ring,” he replies with a smirk, totally disarming her.
“Yes. Well. Quite,” she replies, ruffled.
“Chris and I met when I had to leave the theater,” I explain to her. “I didn’t think I could go back in.”