Page 19 of Fa-La La-La Land
I swallow, then clear my throat—too loud. “Everything okay here?”
Stella and Georgia both jump and turn around.
“Oh, hey, Rhys,” Stella says. “This is Georgia.”
I cross the room and hold out my hand. “I’m a big fan of your show. Cheers for fixing up this place.”
Georgia shakes my hand, flashing her famous grin. “I’m a big fan of yours. Do you want to weigh in on which color looks best in here?”
She steps aside, pointing to the far wall where a dozen shades of white are painted in neat squares. I walk over, pretending I know what I’m looking at. I’m not usually asked for my opinion—especially on stuff like this—so I’m a bit chuffed she cares.
I tap the creamiest shade. “This one looks better in the natural light.”
“That’s what I told Stella!” Georgia holds up her hand for a high-five. She’s as spunky in person as she is on TV. I like her already.
Stella rolls her eyes. “Of course, he’d take your side. He fights me on everything.”
“I don’t fight you on everything.”
“Only who to invite to your party, the food to serve at it, and how to rehab your accounts. So, basically everything you’vehired me to do.” She lifts an eyebrow, crossing her arms in a way that says she’s waiting for me to prove her wrong.
“I’ll agree with you when you’re right,” I shoot back to get a rise out of her. “Throw some shrimp on the barbie. That’s all a party needs.”
“Shouldn’t you be on your way to Australia?” Stella asks dryly.
I check my watch and mutter a quiet curse. “Yeah. I’m late. Just wanted to check in before I leave. Sorry I won’t be here to help.”
Her brown eyes lift to mine, catching me off guard. I’ve always thought brown was a flat color—ordinary, dull. But not in her eyes. Their color shifts between deep chocolate and warm amber, and for a second, I forget what I’m saying.
“There will be plenty to do when you get back.” Stella turns to study the wall again, missing my grin.
Georgia doesn’t. She throws me a knowing look, one that makes me turn toward the door faster than I mean to. “Good to meet you, Georgia. I’ll be back in two weeks. Make a list for me, Stella.”
“You’re the one who needs to make a list. Tell me who to invite to the party besides your mates!” Stella calls after me as I step outside.
The door shuts behind me, but the windows are open—and Georgia’s voice carries. “I thought you said he was rude.”
“More grumpy than rude.”
“I’ve met grumpier,” Georgia replies, and I can’t decide if I should be grateful or insulted.
“Trust me, he’s grumpy. And boring. He barely talks.”
Ouch. I should’ve known better than to eavesdrop.
“Boring? Rhys James? The man whose poster you spent the better part of a year kissing goodnight?” Georgia teases, and suddenly I don’t regret listening at all.
“Who told you that?” The mortification in Stella’s voice is obvious. If she knew I was hearing this, she’d probably faint.
Then again, she did call me rude, grumpy, and boring. So maybe I’ll hang on to this bit of intel for later. I push away the thought of her lips onanythingand the heat that comes with it.
“Your mom told everyone, Stell,” Georgia says with a laugh, and I have to bite back my own.
“Yeah, well, that poster had more personality than the real Rhys James. He’s nothing in person like he is on stage.”
That one hits harder than I’d like to admit.
She’s not wrong.
