Page 27 of Stealing the Show


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Meanwhile, here we were in sunny Aster Valley for the kickoff of their summer stock program. The first show, today’s matinee, had gone off without a hitch. We’d played on the enormous open-air stage at the base of Rockley Mountain that was surrounded by new shops and restaurants in anticipation of the busy summer tourist season and next year’s official grand opening of the Aster Valley Ski Resort.

In the past couple of years, this little town in the Colorado Rockies had apparently gotten some media attention in relation to several celebrities who’d made their homes here. Among them was a famous football player I’d never heard of, a well-known singer named Gentry Kane, and Finn Heller, who’d invited us here for the event.

Because Finn was the sponsor of the summer theater program, he’d managed to snag a ton of big-name friends from LA to come for the event. I’d already met enough recognizable movie actors to make me wonder who the hell was even left in California this weekend.

The matinee showing had been for the locals with discounted tickets for Aster Valley residents, but tonight’s show was for the VIPs and anyone else who’d shelled out big money to support the theater program. From my place behind the tall wooden walls forming the wings, I could see people dressed in all the latest fashions taking their seats in the amphitheater.

Dawson’s hand brushed against my ass. “Love you in these suit pants,” he murmured before dropping a soft kiss behind my ear. “Whoever tailors these in the wardrobe department must love your ass as much as I do.”

“Not possible,” I said without taking my eyes off the growing crowd. “Is that Jude Marian in the crowd?”

Dawson leaned in to look over my shoulder. “The guy who sings that song about dancing? Oh, yeah. The one with the long hair. Dude. His husband is huge.”

“And hot,” I said with a nod. “I swear every celebrity from California is here tonight.”

Chris overheard me and nudged me over so he could take a look. “You nervous? I heard Scarlett Johansson is here.”

“As long as she brought her husband, that’s fine,” I teased. “Right, Dawson?”

“Shut up,” he said with a laugh. “That was one time, and I was drunk.”

I mimicked Dawson’s drunk voice. “Oh, Colin Jost is so dreamy! What if he’s bi and he and Scarlett break up? You think he’d want little ole me?”

Dawson’s face turned red, and he closed his eyes with a groan. “That’s not what I said, and you know it. Will you ever let this go?”

Chris was laughing too hard to speak clearly, but I was pretty sure he asked for the full story. Fortunately for Dawson, the stage manager called for places before I could tell it.

“Break a leg,” I said softly to Dawson. The look of annoyance quickly turned into one of tender affection.

“You too. Love you.”

Letty made kissy noises as she attacked me with some face powder for a quick touch-up. “At least you two know better than to kiss and fuck with your makeup,” she said under her breath. “Unlike Kota and Chris.”

Dawson and I snapped our heads around to my old roommate. Chris’s jaw dropped open. “Letty, fuck!”

“Mm. If you think you two were being stealthy, you’re smoking something good,” she said before moving on to someone else.

I’d have to grill them later. Right now, it was showtime.

Everything went smoothly until the scene with the kiss. Instead of grabbing me and planting one on me, he dropped to one knee and pulled something out of his pocket.

I stared at him. The box had a wedding ring in it.

“Marry me, sweetheart,” he said with all the love in his eyes, a look I was intimately familiar with by now.

I stayed in character, barely, and clasped my hands together under my chin. “D’you really mean it, Lucky?”

“You know I do, baby doll,” he said with a big grin. “Make me the happiest man in the world. Say you’ll be mine.”

I grabbed the box out of his hand and held it away from him while leaning down to kiss him hard on the lips. “Already am. Always.”

The crowd lost their collective mind. John’s cue came, and we all slid back into our seats at the table. I made a production out of “sneakily” sliding the ring on my finger and gazing at it before meeting Dawson’s eyes across the table.

“Love you,” I mouthed.

He pressed his hand over his heart.

When the play ended and we stepped forward hand in hand, camera flashes popped and cell phones waved in the air. The screaming and cheering went to a new level, and I felt like my heart would burst.

We stepped back in line for the final bows, and John lifted the hand of mine he held so the audience could see the ring I wore.

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