The Pepper in the Gumbo (Men of Cane River #1)(36)

She allowed herself a small smile. Who said she couldn’t use technology to run her store? She clicked back to her email and her heart dropped a little before she even realized she’d been looking forward to another note from BWK. But there was no reason for him to write again. He had asked if she wanted to meet, and although she hadn’t said no, she certainly hadn’t said yes.

She re-read the last message. Because you would have asked me where to meet you, instead of reminding me to keep my fedora on. A smile spread over her lips. BWK was interesting, but he was also astute. She sat back in her chair, chewing on her lip. She wasn’t the type of person who enjoyed meeting new people, even when they didn’t have a complicated secret identity issue. But BWK loved books with the same passion and fervor that she loved books. There were very few people in the world who understood what it really meant to be a bibliophile. The way he’d written about missing his friends on the shelf reminded her so much of how she treated her own books, whose words kept her company in the darkest times.

She hit the reply button and quickly typed out a response, before she could change her mind.

Dear BWK,

I’ll be at the center stage area at eight this evening, when Step Rideau and the Zydeco Outlaws play. I’m not the best dancer, but it’s impossible to sit still and listen. I’ll be wearing red cowboy boots.

Alice,

who can’t think of a single line of poetry that fits



Alice pressed send and then swallowed hard. This wasn’t a great time to be starting a new― what? Friendship? She didn’t even know if he was single. He could be married. He’d only said he didn’t share any shelf space and didn’t have any children. For her part, she’d flirted with him while Eric was still in the picture. She dropped her head in her hands at the thought of Eric. That had ended terribly, and right in front of Paul. He’d seemed sort of amused, really. He must think she was as country as a turnip green.

Alice stood up, smoothing back her ponytail, and went to flip on the lights in the main area. It didn’t matter whether Paul Olivier thought she was sophisticated or not. And although her resolution of never speaking to him again had ended about five minutes later, this time it was for real. She was going to make a real effort to keep out of his way.

***

Paul rolled over and groaned as the sun hit his face. Didn’t anybody believe in blackout curtains anymore? He flopped the other direction, pulling the pillow over his head for good measure, but some internal switch had been flipped, and his body refused to sink back into sleep. Throwing off the pillow, he sat up in bed, and rubbed a hand over his face. Last night had ended way too late, but not because of the Cajun party raging outside. He’d been using the mobile hotspot he’d brought to upload the files from the scanner to the website. The coverage was spotty and the upload would freeze mid-stream. He’d check the link in a few hours and see how his fans liked the new addition. The new equipment would be delivered sometime today so Andy could set up his workspace. To outsiders, it looked like play, but gaming was their livelihood. Their first game, Mars Invasion, a sci-fi fantasy, multiplayer online battle arena, made millions, because they’d treated it very seriously.

He inhaled the smell of dark roast coffee and country bacon. His stomach spoke up then, and he vaulted out of bed. It was good to be home. It was even better to know that a full Southern breakfast waited for him somewhere close by. There must be a little café already up and serving breakfast.

Paul didn’t bother to knock on Andy’s door. The guy had never been a morning person and Paul was positive that the promise of good country grits wouldn’t lure him out of bed. He grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom. The shower was hot in a matter of seconds, another difference from his years growing up. Their tiny trailer had warm water three days out of seven and never enough for two people to shower in a row. He stripped off his pajamas and jumped into the steaming water. Money could buy a lot of creature comforts, that was certain.

A few minutes later he threw on a pair of jeans, an old Donkey Kong T-Shirt, and his black Converse. He didn’t have any meetings today. Expensive suits would come later, when the big shots of Natchitoches started circling like gators in the bayou. Before college, he’d spent months submitting for city scholarships and gotten nothing. He wasn’t the right kind of kid, not from the right kind of family. Paul paused, his hand on his keys. No, he needed to think of them as partners, not the adversaries of his teen years. He swallowed back his bitterness and took a deep breath. That was all in the past. His full MIT scholarship had done what the city leaders hadn’t―given him the shot he needed to make it.

He scribbled a quick note for Andy and headed out the door. Somewhere close was a hot Southern breakfast and he was going to find it.

***

The door opened with a familiar tinkle and Alice looked up with a smile. It faded from her face in the next moment.

“Hi, Eric.” She tried to sound welcoming, but this wasn’t how she’d imagined her first customer of the day. Dealing with the threat of a lawsuit was bad enough without boyfriend issues. Ex-boyfriend issues.

“Hey,” he said, and cleared his throat. He looked like he’d put special effort into his appearance. An expensive button up shirt and nice slacks complemented a tailored suit jacket. “Am I picking you up tonight or were we just going to meet?”

Alice blinked. For a moment she wondered if they’d talked through their argument, forgiven each other, made a date and then she’d forgotten about him, like she always did. “Meet where? For what?”