The Pepper in the Gumbo (Men of Cane River #1)(61)

She reached for her cup and remembered the coffee was cold. Maybe she should offer him a cup now. She sat up straight, lifting her head until she could almost see over the short shelve between them. Then she slumped down again. That would look horrible if he caught her peeking at him. She should just stand up and walk to the coffee pot, then turn and ask if he wanted a cup, almost as an afterthought.

Alice swallowed hard. Her knees felt shaky and she wiped sweat from her forehead. It wasn’t so hard. Just get up. Get up! She forced herself to her feet, stepped out from behind her desk and headed for the coffee pot. She could almost feel his eyes on her. She wondered if her skirt was wrinkled in the back and how out of control her hair looked. Resisting the urge to smooth it back, she made it to the coffee pot and poured a cup, accidentally splashing the hot liquid onto the hand that held the mug.

Grabbing a napkin and pressing it to her burning skin, she tried not to hiss in frustration and pain. If she poured him a mug and brought it over, she just might trip and spill it on him, the luck she was having. But if she carried her mug back to her desk, he might think she was rude. Alice stood there, debating for what seemed like hours, all the while feeling Paul’s gaze on her.

Taking a breath, she fixed a smile to her face and turned around. “Would you like―” She broke off as she caught a glimpse of him in the chair. His head was leaned all the way back, eyes closed, hands resting in his lap. He was completely motionless. Alice frowned, wondering if he was meditating. Was he okay? She crept forward, intent on his face. When she got to less than a foot away, she could see his chest rising and falling. A faint sound issued from his throat.

Alice stood still, holding the mug in both hands, smiling. She couldn’t imagine falling asleep anywhere but her bed. She wasn’t the kind of person who could nap, even while traveling. Forget about sleeping in public, where anybody could see you, where you were completely vulnerable. She couldn’t fathom having that particular talent.

It occurred to her that she’d been agonizing over him while he slept peacefully. One more confirmation that Paul Olivier wasn’t like her. He was an extrovert that dealt with fans, crowds, and legions of interested females. She, meanwhile, lost a night of sleep over one kiss.

Now that he was asleep, she could finally get a good look at him without feeling awkward. She could see his mother’s features, but also the strong jaw and nose that must have come from his father. His dark, angled, brows made him look a little angry, even though he was completely at rest. It made her realize that some of his expressions might be less irritated than she’d perceived. His lashes were thick and full, true to the Creole genes. She’d thought his hair was straight but now she could see it curling a little at the temples. His legs were stretched out and she thought of how tall he was, at least six feet, but his mother was more Alice’s height. She wondered if Paul had any contact with his father.

A sound outside the glass door caught her attention and she looked up. Bix was coming through the door. She barely had time to step away from Paul as the little brass bell rang.

“Hello, Miss Alice,” Bix said. It sounded like a shout in the quiet room.

She waved him closer and pointed to Paul, who hadn’t moved a muscle. “He’s asleep,” she whispered.

Bix stepped close and leaned forward until he was just inches away. Alice covered her eyes with one hand, knowing Paul would wake up and have the scare of his life finding Bix at close range. “That he is, Miss Alice, that he is. How did you manage it?”

“I didn’t manage anything. I just offered him a seat.” She could feel her face flaming. “He was waiting for you.”

“For me?” Bix rubbed his chin. “Well, what do we do now? Looks like the poor fella needs his rest, wouldn’t you say?”

Alice said nothing. She didn’t know anybody who slept that deeply. Maybe he was faking it. Maybe it was a joke and they were being filmed as a prank. She glanced around nervously.

“Hi, guys!” Charlie burst through the door and almost fell flat when she saw Paul in the chair, head back, and eyes closed. “What on earth did you do?” She had on a black T-shirt that read ‘I Could Be Gaining Levels Right Now’ in bright yellow. Her blue eyes, ringed with heavy eyeliner, opened wide at the scene in front of her.

“Shhh,” Alice said. She needed to get away from the area before anyone else came in and decided to join in on the store’s new spectator sport. “And why do y’all think I did something? Do you both think I’m so crazy I’m just going to run around drugging people?”

Neither of them answered, but they both gave a “well, you know” expression.

“Fine,” Alice hissed. “I may be a little bit crazy but I would never hurt anyone. He sat down and fell asleep, I promise.” She frowned. “But he hasn’t moved at all.”

“You should wake him up. I gots to know why he wanted to talk to me.” Bix took off his hat and started unbuttoning his coat.

“Why me?” Alice lifted the mug in her hand. “I can’t. I’m holding―”

“Here.” Charlie took the mug from her hand and stepped back. “Now you can.”

Alice shot her a look and then leaned over Paul. “Hey,” she said softly. There was no response.

Charlie giggled and took a sip of the coffee.

“This isn’t funny,” Alice whispered. She crouched down next to the chair while Bix hovered on one side and Charlie lurked on the other. For just a moment, she saw how silly the situation was, and a laugh bubbled up inside. She forced it back down, trying to keep her face straight. A second later, the laugh emerged as a guffaw. Alice clapped a hand over her mouth but the dam had been breached. After just a few seconds, her shoulders were shaking and tears blurred her vision.