Austentatious Read Online Free Page B

my current situation.
    “ She was a wild woman, and she ended up with a man women still fantasize about.” Overly smug, she snapped the lid on the leftover guacamole.
    “A wild woman? Really? Are you referring to her snarky attitude, her scandalous walks in the rain, or her refusal to accept a shoddy proposal? Because if that’s all it takes to keep you off my back, I can handle any one of those.”
    “Well, that was plenty two hundred years ago. I hate to tell you, but you’ve gotta up the ante a little, sweetie.” She tried for an apologetic smile, but it slid away from her, pushed out by ill-concealed glee. “Keep your eyes on the prize, chickie.”
    “I’ll see what I can do,” I muttered, desperately wanting to add “Mrs. Bennet,” but too chicken to pull it off. I grabbed the platter, slid the remaining cupcakes onto the table, and skirted around her on my way toward the gate. “Thanks for a lovely evening.”
    “Come on, stay for a while, Nic. If you leave now, things will just get awkward.” Laura’s voice slowed my retreat but didn’t halt it.
    “Inconceivable,” I answered, still moving. Too late ... things had gone way beyond awkward.
    “Start small!” Leslie called after me. “Try sleeping naked tonight! I think it’s a safe assumption that that would be new and different.” The last part was muttered, but I could hear it ringing through the night air, just like I could feel the grudge starting to build in my chest. Little by little, I was moving away from the color and light, navigating the pavers into darkness.
    Confidence bolstered, I called back, “You know ... Elizabeth Bennet was content simply to be witty and charming. Meeting Mr. Darcy was just a sexy coincidence.”
    “Oh that we all could have such ‘sexy coincidences,’ ” Leslie drawled, a regular Southern belle. “But you gotta play to win, sweetie. And a couple little changes could make all the difference.”
    “You are pulling out every cliché in the book,” came Laura’s murmured reply, but it barely registered.
    Mental snapshots of my journal suddenly flashed in my mind like before and after photos, triggered by the echoing finale of Leslie’s rousing little pep talk. Heedless of the perils of lumpy lawns and nighttime critters, I ran the rest of the way home, in a sudden manic dread over the possibility of “a couple of little changes” and who or what might have made them. Leslie would assume I was spooked by the very idea of sleeping naked. And with that funky little journal in the house, who could blame me?
     
    The quiet at home was a little creepy, and the fact that my ears were tingling with cold and Leslie’s parting words didn’t help engender the feeling of normalcy I was really kind of desperate for. Plunking the platter down on the counter, I ignored the blinking message light on my answering machine and squinted toward the bookcase. If I was willing to ride out the metaphor to the point of ridiculousness, imagining that the journal was Mr. Darcy, then was this whole thing somehow my very own sexy coincidence? The possibility was a little bit terrifying, a good clue that maybe I needed to dial back on the Pride and Prejudice complex.
    It occurred to me that maybe I should come up with some sort of game plan before I braved another look at the journal. Like what to do if nothing had changed versus what to do if everything had. But with my mouth drying up and my stomach roiling with nerves and the liquor from the cranberry lemonade, I couldn’t think. Strategy eluded me, right along with common sense. I wanted to look ... but I didn’t. I wanted everything to be normal, and yet, perversely, a little mystery held a certain appeal.
    Squaring my shoulders, I stepped out of the light in the kitchen and moved into the dimness of the living room. It felt like high noon in an old-time TV Western, except that I was facing down a word slinger closer to midnight. My fingers curled in and out of fists, and I