The Pepper in the Gumbo (Men of Cane River #1)(37)

“The zydeco festival. We made plans. Remember?” He leaned close, ducking his head a little.

“I don’t remember.” Alice thought he must be trying for a certain boyish charm but what she saw was a man who thought he could manipulate her. “In fact, I don’t think we discussed the festival at all.”

He straightened up. “Well, I’ll just pick you up at seven. The main stage is twenty feet from your store. It won’t hurt you to have some fun once in a while.”

Alice stood. Eric was making her angry and didn’t even know it. She would go to the festival, but not because it was right outside her door. Her family’s history was intertwined with Creole music in a way that was hard to explain, but she would have tried, if Eric had ever asked, or even given her a chance to tell him about it. And in that moment, Alice realized how little Eric had ever cared about her. She knew everything about his daily stresses--the secretary who came in late every Monday, the billing system that took a genius to decode. She knew what his parents did for a living, that his sister traveled all over the world, that he hated hush puppies but loved cheese fries. She knew these things because she had cared.

“Eric, do you know what my favorite color is?”

“What?” He scanned the room. “How would I know that?”

“It’s red. Do you know my favorite poet? Do I like my coffee with sugar and milk? Am I a morning person? How many brothers do I have?” She was standing in front of him now, arms crossed. She didn’t expect him to answer any of these questions.

“Hold on, now. How could I know these things?” He looked panicked. “You like your coffee black,” he exclaimed, his gaze falling somewhere behind her.

Alice turned and spied her coffee cup on her desk. “With sugar,” she corrected him. “Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Not a morning person. Four brothers.”

He scowled, all his defenses were up now. “I just came in to ask you to the festival.”

She sighed. “Eric, you didn’t come to ask me to the festival. You came to tell me we were going.”

“Okay. Whatever. Are we going?”

Alice looked around the store, wishing there was some answer written on the walls. She knew in her heart that she was right but it was difficult to explain to someone who was being willfully ignorant. “No, we’re not. And I’m not sure how to say this, but we’re not going to anything else, ever again. I thought I made it clear the other day.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is it about that guy, Paul Olivier? You’re dumping me for him? If you think he’s going to look twice at someone like you, then you’re really deluded.”

For a moment it was hard for Alice to draw a breath. “Someone like me? What does that mean?” She held up a hand. “No, wait. I don’t want to know. I’ve always had the feeling that you didn’t think much of me, and now you’re proving me right.”

He stepped toward her. “You think you can do better? Try it. There aren’t many guys like me in this nasty little backwater.”

A deep voice cut into their conversation. “And what a good thing that is.”

Alice jumped, seeing Paul standing there for the first time. She had been so focused on the argument that she hadn’t heard the door or seen him approach. His hair was wet, as if he’d just stepped out of a shower and he was freshly shaved. Although his face was carefully neutral, Alice heard real anger pulsing under his words.

“Oh, you again. I knew this had something to do with you.” Eric turned, a sneer curling his lip.

“Don’t blame me for your bad behavior. I’m guessing your were digging this grave long before I showed up in town,” Paul said. He was closer now, arms at his sides. Alice had the impression he was waiting for Eric to take a swing.

“We were happy before you got here,” Eric said.

Paul shook his head, as if starting to realize that arguing with Eric was a complete waste of energy. “So, I managed to ruin your relationship all in one day? I came in, bought a book, rented her apartment, and everything fell to pieces?”

Eric swung around, glaring at Alice. “He’s living up there with you? Oh, that explains a lot.”

Alice felt her face go hot even before the words completely sunk in. Her hand went to the rings at her neck, as if to shield them from what Eric had just said. She was a secure, intelligent, professional woman. But his insinuation touched something deep inside, where old hurts and shame lurked. Fury coursed through her. “Get out,” she whispered.

“Don’t need to tell me twice. I don’t like to share.” He walked by Paul, smirking.

Alice didn’t see the first swing, only saw Eric’s head snap to the side and then he went down. Paul hooked a hand into Eric’s belt, another under his collar and dragged-carried him to the door. He propped him up, opened the door, and tossed him out. Alice could see Eric through the glass door, stumbling to his feet, one hand over his cheekbone.

Paul walked back to the desk, face tight with anger. His brown eyes seemed black under dark brows. He was breathing heavily.

“That was completely unnecessary,” Alice hissed. She peered behind Paul, watching Eric walk away, his expression furious. People on the sidewalk turned their heads to stare, a few pointing out the man who had clearly just lost a fight.

“I agree. But it felt great.”