Jane and Austen by Stephanie Fowers Page A

going to clean it up to make it suitable for guests.”
    He laughed at that. “Isn’t there a crummy little loft upstairs? The last time I saw it, no one was paying full price for that.”
    And it was also mine. “Not funny, Austen.”
    “I guess neither of us wants to give up our rooms for a guest. Look, Jane, there’s a nice hotel next door. It’s not a sin to put it to use. Put the extra guest in the Kellynch.” He flipped lazily through his books at the counter like I was the most boring thing on earth.
    And he had not solved my little dilemma. Taylor would kill me if I put Dancey in the Kellynch, but no argument would stir Austen. And since his parents owned the place, I didn’t really have a say. My fingers landed on Bella’s luggage. There was nothing more to do but to retreat with it through the narrow hall. I trudged out the back, occasionally muttering a complaint or two every time I slammed my fingers against the wall. Courtship was dead, true gentlemen were deader—well, once I was through with Austen. Okay, the luggage was my fault, but at least I was stronger for it. Already I was getting a great arm workout.
    It wasn’t too hard to find Bella out by the Norland Courtyard. Her giggles led the way there. The deep timbre of Freddy’s voice answered her soft flirtations. “You’re not afraid of bad boys, are you?” he asked her.
    “Is that what you think you are?”
    “I’ll let you decide. Give me your phone.”
    I grimaced, knowing he was typing his number into her fancy iPhone. Little fountains spurted water all around them to create an enchanting scene. Despite the romantic gesture, Freddy was a player. He’d leave her heart in a pile of splinters on the ground after he was through with her—he’d done it to so many girls that I’d lost count.
    I sidestepped a potted palm and dropped the luggage at his feet. “Oh!” Bella blushed when Freddy picked them off the pavement. “But I don’t have any money for a tip.”
    Tip? She wasn’t about to tip Freddy for my work, was she?
    “I’m sure we could arrange something,” Freddy said. He tapped the wall of the stylish stucco building behind her and swung the luggage up the steps to the Fullerton Bungalow where she would be staying. Then without looking sheepish at all for taking all the credit for my work, he left with a cocky swagger to his step. “Text me,” he said, “but only when you’re desperate for my company.”
    She watched him go with longing in her eyes. Despite Bella’s beauty, he’d leave her crying while he merrily chased after his next conquest. Wanting to save her from certain heartbreak, I gave her a bracing smile, an idea quickly taking form in my mind. “Don’t bother with a tip,” I told her—because I had one for her. “Freddy is terrible with money; too much hard living. Poor guy.”
    “What? Really?” Her eyes went wide at the intrigue, which I suspected would happen—she seemed the type to go for the bad boys. Revealing who he was wouldn’t do the trick, but I knew what would.
    “Yeah,” I nodded. “It’s tough watching a guy waste his life like that. He just needs a really good girl to turn him around . . .” Bella looked like she might be the one who wanted to do that, and I smiled because I was about to smash whatever attraction she felt for him. “He needs to find someone who gets him . . . out of his mother’s basement, you know? I mean, everything he earns he spends on video games, pizza, and two-liter bottles of soda. He’s gonna blow up like that guy from Supersize Me .”
    “Oh.” Her nose wrinkled and she didn’t look as intrigued.
    “He gives girls his number and expects them to do all the work.”
    She stuffed her phone in her pocket, looking embarrassed. “How do you know?” she asked. “Did you date him?”
    Now it was my turn to throw up a little in my mouth. My vivid imagination deserted me inside some weird scene that held my potential life with Freddy—instead of