The Pepper in the Gumbo (Men of Cane River #1)(70)

“You think you can intimidate me. You think because you’ve got a lot of money that you’re better than me.” Eric had started to sweat. His forehead glistened in the dim overhead light.

Paul put his elbows on the table, not breaking eye contact. He didn’t know where to start arguing. He wasn’t anywhere near close to punching Eric, but the guy leaned back quickly.

Eric’s eyes started to water, making the light blue almost gray. “You don’t understand. I have dental school bills to pay. And even if Alice thinks we’re done, I know I can convince her to give me another chance.”

Paul shifted in his chair and Eric flinched. “Fine,” Eric said, his voice high and strained. “She’ll never give me the time of day again, now that she’s got you. The least you can do is compensate me for my loss. You stole her right out from under me.”

Letting the words sink in, Paul’s hand curled into a fist. If he had ten more minutes he could come up with something really frightening to say. Eric watched him with wide eyes, his whole body vibrating with anxiety.

“If you ever involve Alice or her store in any of your schemes, I will know.” He leaned forward. “If I hear that you so much as mentioned her name in relation to your bad business deals, I will come looking for you.”

Eric nodded. “Okay, okay.”

“Now get up and go home.”

Scooting back his chair, Eric dropped some cash on the table and ran out the door. Paul stood up, feeling anger blazing a path of destruction through his insides. Some people would do anything for money, even stealing from a sweet girl like Alice. Eric obviously never cared for her. He’d only wanted her store.

Paul took up his place near the door and tried to get his heart rate back under control. He knew what it was like to be a target, to have people drop your name in their business deals, to be involved in frivolous lawsuits, to learn you were used as bait or collateral. He also knew what it was like to find out a kiss wasn’t just a kiss, but a carefully thought-out strategy to entrap a person. He could understand how his wealth attracted those negatives, but Alice had been barely scraping by. It made him sick that Alice had to deal with people like Eric and Norma, when she was simply trying to earn a living.

His phone dinged and he pulled it out of his pocket. He swiped the screen, his heart still thudding in his chest.

Dear BWK,

I’m not sure if I was fire today, but I tried. Maybe everything will work out “so long as fire outlives the parent spark”, like Shelley says.

I thought you might come by the store today. I have your copy of The Duke’s Secret behind the counter. I’d like to meet my new friend face-to-face. But if not, I’m still thankful for this, these words. Like our Elizabeth Barrett Browning, I’ve been feeling “a little sunburnt by the glare of life”, and your notes are like a cool shade.

If you give me your P.O. box address, I’ll send the book along so you can add it to the site. I believe in your project, but I also have my own ulterior motive. You seem to be driving customers to my doorstep.

Your friend,

Alice



Paul smiled at the “our Elizabeth Barrett Browning” part. Our. And he was like cool shade for her. He felt his heart lifting. Looking ahead was only making things more complicated. He should just be the kind of friend she needed, the only way he could be, as BWK. Being with Alice in real life was preferable, but it somehow always ended in misunderstandings or embarrassing clinches. She needed a friend right now, especially a friend with money and power. Pursuing her romantically wouldn’t help either one of them.



Dear Alice,

I’m glad customers are coming to find more of what I’m adding to the site. I started this project on a whim but it’s become a passion.

As for this city, it’s “a slow sort of country,” like the Queen says in Alice in Wonderland. I arrived not a week ago and feel like I’ve been here for years. Even those I’ve just met seem almost like family to me now.

My P.O. box address is below.

Your friend,

BWK



Paul sent the email just as his name was called from the register. A pretty young waitress handed him his bill and smiled nervously as he handed her his card.

“I’m Tiffany and I hope you enjoy your dinner, sir.” She handed him his bags and took a breath. “You come back now, Mr. Olivier.”

Paul nodded. “Thanks, I’m sure I will.” He took the bags with a smile and headed out the door. It was nice to have such polite service. In New York City getting takeout could be a nightmare if you crossed a grumpy shop keeper. It didn’t matter who you were. If someone decided you shouldn’t get service, you wouldn’t.

In a few minutes he was back at By the Book. He saw a new set of stickers in the window, notifying visitors of an alarm system with remote cameras. Looking around, he saw the tiny camera above the door and resisted waving. He already knew which package she’d chosen because the bill had been sent to him. Or to BWK. She would get a note about it from the alarm company.

Paul paused, a bag of hot, barbecued ribs in each hand. He wondered if Alice would be suspicious of BWK paying for the system. It hadn’t occurred to him that she would be. They were friends. At least, he had thought so. Well, time would tell if she would be irritated or pleased. Maybe he was overstepping, but since he was anonymous, it removed the burden of repayment or feeling indebted. He smiled to himself. Just like when she heard from Norma Green’s lawyer.