The Pepper in the Gumbo (Men of Cane River #1)(40)
Bix let out a low whistle. “Just like that little snake to cast aspersions on your character because he’s jealous.”
She let a hand drop to the desk and said, “Jealous? It wasn’t working between us and that had nothing to do with Paul.”
“It sure wasn’t,” Bix said. He shot her a glance. “But sha, even though I got bad eyes, what I saw when I walked in here was enough. I wager Paul wouldn’t say no to a chance at getting to know you better.” He gave a wink, then called out, “Miss Elizabeth, where are you? We’ve got work to do.” Miss Elizabeth trotted out and Bix picked her up, carrying her toward the back room where the paperbacks were stacked.
Alice couldn’t find a thing to say to that. Of course Paul was handsome, funny, and seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her head. But the logical part of her could list ten reasons that Paul should be avoided at all costs. She’s perfect just the way she is. Paul’s words echoed back at her. The idea made her chest go tight. She’d never been one to take chances, in business or in love. And a relationship with Paul wasn’t just risky, it was doomed.
She straightened her shoulders and shook off the swirling emotions. Who knew, maybe Paul was putting on the charm to distract her from her protesting his store. He knew she loved books, so he was trying to reach her that way. He was probably used to women falling all over him, begging for his attention.
Well, he was about to discover she was a lot harder to distract than he thought. Nothing came before her town and her people. Not even a man like Paul Olivier.
Chapter Twelve
In software systems, it is often the early bird
that makes the worm. ― Alan Perlis
Paul walked toward the diner, dodging pedestrians and the occasional dog, his thoughts back in the little bookstore he’d just exited. That had been a stupid, sloppy mistake. He’d gotten caught up in convincing her that Heinlein was a genius and had referenced a book they’d already discussed. Unfortunately, he was Browning Wordsworth Keats when they’d discussed it. And now she was wondering why everyone in the world was discussing Beau Geste at the same time. He wanted to tell her, but not like that. Not out of the blue and right after punching her ex-boyfriend.
He trudged down the sidewalk, wondering if he was losing his sanity. His knuckles throbbed, reminding him of the moment he’d opened himself up for the mother of all lawsuits. More than that, an assault charge wasn’t good PR, and PR was something he’d always been good at. When Andy heard the story, Paul was going to get an earful. Or maybe just a look of total disbelief. He couldn’t believe it himself.
He crossed the street, barely hearing the honking of a slow-moving vehicle as it turned the corner. He’d never punched another person in his life. He wasn’t a fighter. He’d had his share of battles against prejudicial people who only saw a quiet nerd from a tiny Southern town, but his battles had never gotten physical. Maybe Andy was right. Maybe this whole idea was doomed from the beginning. There was too much bad history in Cane River. If he’d wanted to open a store, he should have left the supervising to someone else. Nothing good could come from his returning to Natchitoches.
“Excuse me,” a young man’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Are you Paul Olivier? I heard a rumor you were in town, but I told my buddy he was full of it.”
A gawky teenage boy grabbed his hand and shook it before Paul could even focus on the kid’s wide-eyed expression. His T-shirt read ‘Home is Where the WiFi Connects Automatically’ and his red hair had outgrown a crew cut a few months ago.
“Yes, I’m just here for a little while.”
“Dude,” the kid whispered. “You’re, like, the most epic game creator ever.”
“Thank you.” Paul glanced down the street. “We’re opening a new store here. Be sure to come to the grand opening. We’ll have some really good door prizes and―” His stomach was growling in earnest now. He glanced back and for just a moment, he saw himself. He’d spent years as the awkward teenager nobody really listened to, the kid everyone avoided because all he could talk about was gaming and always at the worst times. Paul looked the kid in the eye and gave him his undivided attention. “And what do like the most about our games?”
“You did such a great job with War of the Universe. People don’t always get that it’s not just the graphics. It’s the story,” the kid said. “The best part was the way Reena used the evil Commander Lorfan’s secret past to bring him down. The dude woulda been totally invincible if he hadn’t been obsessed with getting revenge.”
Paul started to agree, when something else occurred to him. Flannery O’Conner once said that she wrote to discover what she knew. Paul wrote the script for War of the Universe while thinking about all the greatest morality tales--Greek myths and the tragedy of humanity. He’d never considered that he could turn into one of the bad guys, so focused on revenge and proving he was right that he doomed himself and everything he loved. He looked back at By the Book, and saw his violent actions in a whole new light.
“What’s your name?” Paul asked.
“Tater Leaf, sir.” The kid grinned hugely.
Paul blinked, trying to decipher why any parent would name their child Tater and pair it with the last name Leaf. He decided it most likely linked to some long history that would take ten minutes and a diagram of the kid’s family tree to explain.