The Pepper in the Gumbo (Men of Cane River #1)(27)

Paul was used to awkward introductions but this was probably the most awkward, if only for Alice’s expression. She’d stopped at the register, face blank with shock.

“It wasn’t a bazillion,” he muttered. “That’s not a real number.”

“ScreenStop?” Alice whispered.

“Excuse me,” Eric called. He was only a few feet away but his voice was loud enough to reach the end of the store. “Are we going to lunch or not?”

Alice whirled toward him and said in a low voice, “No, Eric, we’re not. I have a store to run. Whether you think this place is important or not, I do. I can’t walk away from a customer just because you want to order at exactly noon so you can eat your lunch in exactly fifteen minutes, and have exactly ten minutes to walk back to your office so you’ll have exactly eight minutes to flirt with your secretaries before patients arrive.” She paused. “In fact, since we’re having this conversation right now, I’d rather not have any more lunches with you again. Goodbye.”

There was a beat of complete silence and then Eric sputtered something about not flirting with anybody, that she obviously she wasn’t hungry, and he’d call her later. He turned around and left the bookstore, letting the door slam behind him.

Paul wanted to offer Alice a big high five but the fierce expression on her face told him that now was not the right time.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said. Smoothing a hand over her hair, she sighed. “That was extremely unprofessional. It’s just… I suppose it was long overdue.”

“Not a problem, really. I completely understand.” He shifted his feet. “You’d been together a long time?”

“Huh. Not even six months. Miss Alice is impossible to please.” Charlie grinned, leaning against the counter. She was talking about Alice, but only had eyes for Paul. “In fact, she hates you, too.”

“Charlie!” Alice glared at her.

Paul knew they’d gotten off to a rough start but thought hate was a rather extreme response. “Well, maybe we’ll learn to appreciate our differences―” he started to say.

“Nope. Never gonna happen.” Charlie jerked her head in Alice’s direction. “I heard her on the phone yesterday, trying to track down who gave you that building permit. She wants to kick ScreenStop out of the historic district. She’d be happier than a clam if she could kick you all the way out of Natchitoches. She says people like you don’t belong in a place like Cane River.”

Paul turned to Alice, brows raised. People like you. She saw him as the poor kid he had once been, ignored unless he was being ridiculed, denied passage into the nicer parts of the city. No, Alice had never met that boy. She was looking at a rich businessman.

So she really did hate him before today. Then she hated him when he showed up in person. The only version of him she seemed to like was his fake identity. It was a triple ego-whammy. “We received the building permit in the usual way, going through all the regular channels.”

Alice’s face was pink but her voice was steady. “Impossible. Everything has to be passed by the board. I never saw any plans for that store.”

“Not everything goes by the board. Believe me, my lawyers looked at the city bylaws very carefully.” His gaze dropped to the portfolio she still held in her hands. “You’re not going to sell me that, are you?”

Alice narrowed her eyes. “If I didn’t, that would be spiteful,” she said. “But will you think you’ve bought me off like everyone else in this city if I do? Because I don’t have a price. Not even one this high,” she said, holding up the Arthur Rackham illustrations.

He opened his mouth to respond, but she went on. “I do have a question, though.”

“Go ahead.” It couldn’t get much worse. He had nothing to fear.

“The realtor you’re meeting. Is she June LaTraye?”

He frowned. Maybe Alice was going to warn him off the woman. There were crooks in every city, every profession. “Yes. We’re supposed to meet in about ten minutes. There’s an apartment in the historic… district…” Paul’s voice faded away.

They stared at each other for a moment. “Listen,” Alice said, coming around the counter toward him. “You don’t have to buy this portfolio. And you should probably find another place to rent while you’re here. The Judge Porter House is a very nice bed and breakfast with full suites and it’s right down the block. I wish you the best of luck.”

Paul said nothing. The last few hours had been some of the strangest of his life, but he hadn’t gotten where he was in the world by ignoring his intuition. Over and over he’d made decisions that weren’t completely explainable, especially to his board of directors or to Andy. They’d learned to trust him and everything had always come out for the better. He didn’t take her hand.

“I’d like to buy the portfolio. And I’d like to see the apartment,” he said simply.

Relief, confusion, and something else flashed over her face. “If you’re sure…”

“I am,” he said. “I have no interest in trying to avoid a constant rotation of nosy tourists or sleeping in a canopy princess bed for a month.”

“I won’t promise to stop fighting your store.”