Billionaires Don't Like Nice Girls (A BWWM Romance) (21 page)

Kent ran his fingers through his short hair. “I shouldn’t have said anything. You weren’t ready to hear it. I got carried away.”

“I could be a thousand years old and I still wouldn’t be ready to accept what you said. The other night you went on about how crazy I am, but the truth is, you’re the crazy one.” Her voice was low and powerful, smooth from strength of will. “You stood here tonight and solved all my problems, didn’t you? In your wisdom, you decided what would be best for me and my life. Aren’t you amazing? How did you get so smart? I’d like to know because I am Captain Nice Guy, after all, and I believe it’s my job to do the good deeds around here.”

Kent sighed. “Look Phae—”

“No. I’m done. You said the other night that all I do for people is little things, nothing important. What you don’t understand is that I only do the little things because I would never presume to act on the bigger things. I would never dare to intrude in their lives in such a way, thinking I know what’s best for them. And I know these people far better than you know me, Kent. I think before I act. That’s the difference between me and you.”

He looked her squarely in the eyes. “You drugged your uncle. That’s not little.”

“Oh yeah?” She raised an eyebrow. “First of all, he’s family and I take license with them that I don’t with others. Secondly, I dissolved one over-the-counter sleeping pill in a non-alcoholic beer which I then poured into a regular beer bottle. Thirdly and lastly, Uncle Leon is highly susceptible to all drugs, and I didn’t want him unconscious, just asleep. Once again, you’ve made judgments with knowing the full story. That’s a habit with you, isn’t it?”

Kent’s frustration showed clearly on his face. He rubbed his dark, stubbled jaw.

Phae had no intention of backing down. “Socrates once said something to the effect of a man becomes wise when he realizes how little he knows. I guess that makes you an idiot, Kent Holmes. Now, don’t start getting angry. I’m not leaving myself out of this. I may not be an idiot since I happen to realize how little I know. And yet, I’m obviously not a candidate for the wisdom hall of fame either. For the record, let’s call me a crazy twit, shall we?”

“You’re getting carried away, Phae. Let’s get out of here. The fireworks won’t last much longer and this place is going to be over-run with people any minute.”

“Then I’ll make this fast.” She held up her right hand, palm facing out. “On this day of celebration of our great nation’s independence, I’m going to make a declaration of my own.”

Kent snorted. “I think I like it better when you’re mad.”

“Sorry to disappoint. Again. Anyway, back to my declaration. When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for a person to dissolve the bonds of pure physical attraction which have connected them with one another, and to—”

“What are you talking about?” Kent interrupted.

“That’s the opening of the Declaration of Independence, except for that physical attraction part. It means that I’m getting ready to tell you why I’m declaring my independence from you.”

“I figured that out, for God’s sake. I want to know what you’re getting at.”

“I want you to know my intentions up front. There’s going to be no one night hookup or anything else involving a bedroom between us. When I tell you I’m letting you go, I mean it.”

“Your memory’s too good. I don’t like it.”

“Too bad,” she replied in an even voice. “So, jumping ahead a bit in the declaration, with necessary changes, I hold these truths to be self-evident that all men and women are created equal, but that I have been endowed with more than my fair share of twit-like behavior. The history of our relationship is a history of repeated nonsense, all having the direct object of you establishing an absolute tyranny over me, Phae Jones, both physically and mentally.”

Kent groaned. “This is nuts. I can’t believe you think this means anything. I don’t want tyranny over you, except maybe in bed, and not even that all the time. I mean, you can tie me up if you want. I won’t complain as long as I get to do it back to you.”

“You can’t distract me with that sort of thing anymore.” She propped her hands on her hips then raised her right hand again. “I make a formal vow to you, Kent Holmes. No more will I be a twit who falls willingly into your arms every time you touch me. I’ll no longer allow that treacherous sexual fog of yours to hide the fact that you and I are totally incompatible. And no more will I defend my actions, or life choices to you, the idiot, Kent Holmes, who so blindly passes judgment on me.”

“Very funny, Phae,” he said. “Now let’s get serious. We’re not incompatible. We wouldn’t have such a strong connection if we were.”

She waved her hand in his face. “Enough. Here it is, the grand finale. I pledge that any connection between us is to be forthwith and hereafter dissolved. I am now a free and independent woman and grant myself the right to remain such. I pledge to myself, my life, my fortune, and my sacred honor. The end. See ya.”

As if on cue, the fireworks launched into an earth-shaking finale of their own. Ignoring the spectacle of light and sound, Phae attempted to brush past Kent but he grabbed her upper arm.

“It’s not that easy,” Kent shouted over the booms as he tried to maintain his hold. “You can’t void our attraction by making a flippant speech. It’s real and it won’t go away because you’re pissed. All I have to do is kiss you and it’ll be over. You know it.”

As he bent to kiss her, Phae stomped on the insole of his foot with all her strength. He yowled and jumped backward. While he hopped around on his good foot, Phae jumped into her car and locked the door.

She dug the keys out of her pocket, inserted them in the ignition, then rolled her window down about an inch.

Kent hobbled over to the window. “You could have broken my toes.”

Phae smiled. “No. If I’d wanted to break your toes, they’d be broken. You’ll be fine. Give Miss Eugenia a thrill and let her ice your foot.”

“When I get my hands on you …”

“Don’t threaten me. Besides, I’m not completely finished.” With her index finger, she wrote on the window.

Kent pulled off his shoe and rubbed his sore insole. “What are you doing?”

“I’m signing my declaration, silly. I’ve sealed it and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Kent grimaced. “If my foot didn’t hurt so bad, I’d be laughing my ass off right now.”

She shrugged indifferently then started the car. As she backed out of the parking space, she called out, “Don’t follow me home, Kent. I won’t let you in my house.”

He limped over to the moving car and stuck his fingers in the window crack. She considered rolling up the window a little to give him a scare, then toyed with the idea of peeling out and leaving him tottering in the dust. Instead, she pressed on the brake and viewed him with an expression of supreme boredom.

“What do you want now?” she asked. “This is tiresome.”

“I wanted to remind you of something,” he said. “Have you forgotten that the Declaration of Independence was also a declaration of war?”

“So?”

“So we’re at war now, a war of your making. I told you I wasn’t going to let you go. You may be crazy and you may be a twit, not that I ever said that, but you are
my
crazy twit, and you can’t end this and expect me not to fight for it.”

Phae held her finger over the window button, her threat obvious. Kent yanked his fingers out of the crack. She smiled benevolently then finished backing out.

“It’s war, Phae,” Kent yelled after her as she drove away. “And I’m going to win!”

She rolled her window down all the way, stuck out her arm and waved a queen’s wave at the big man who grew smaller and smaller in her rear view mirror. She turned out of the lot just as the last firework faded in the sky.

She laughed out loud at the absurd notion that Kent thought he could win. Never. She finally knew exactly what she was doing, and he didn’t stand a chance.

This battle belonged to her, and so would all the others should he dare to follow through on his threat. He’d soon learn that she was an implacable enemy.

If this was war, it was hers to win. No doubt about it.

Chapter 19

TEN MEASLY DAYS LATER, PHAE no longer felt so good about her chances. In fact, she thought as she lethargically scrubbed her Aunt Meg’s head, she was downright battle weary. When Kent waged war, he played to win, no matter how low he had to sink to do it.

When the bells on the shop door tinkled, Phae checked the wall clock. Ten o’clock. Oh no. Time for another delivery.

“Come on in, Hal,” Sylvie said gaily. “Oooh, tulips! Look, Phae, he sent beautiful tulips today. And at this time of year. Must have cost a fortune.”

Phae refused to look, but Meg shoved her hands away then leaned up out of the bowl. Phae quickly wrapped a towel around her dripping head.

“Look at them, Phae-phae. They’re simply gorgeous. Where did you find them at this time of year, Hal?”

“Special order, ma’am,” the young deliveryman said. “Where would you like me to put them, Miz Jones? I mean, Miz
Phae
Jones.”

Phae scowled. “In the dumpster out back.”

Sylvie waggled a finger. “Don’t be mean to Hal. He’s only doing his job. Here, Hal. I’ll shove these ones over there so those will fit here. Yes, there you go. Perfect.”

Phae’s scowl didn’t waver as she surveyed her once tidy shop. She’d been receiving two floral arrangements a day since the Fourth of July, one at ten o’clock and one at three. Every stinking day.

Flowers covered the display window, some hanging and some majestically arranged in vases. Baskets upon baskets of flowers covered every other bit of free space in the small room.

If Kent didn’t cease and desist soon, Phae wouldn’t have any room left for customers.

Sylvie slipped some money to Hal who speedily removed himself from the shop with a mumbled thanks.

“These tulips are my favorite,” Meg said. “There must be at least fifty of them. And they’re arranged beautifully.”

Sylvie sniffed the flowers then glanced over the other floral offerings. “I don’t know. They are beautiful, but I think my favorite is still the one with the birds of paradise and all the different orchids. It’s so unusual. But those roses in all the pretty colors … and the mums … the giant daisies. Oh, I don’t know. It’s too hard to pick. Which one is your favorite, Phae?”

Phae plopped down into one of the dryer chairs. “None of them. I want them all out of here and the sooner the better.” She snapped off a stray branch of baby’s breath that had been tickling her ear.

Sylvie ran over and grabbed the twig out of her hand. “Quit defacing the flowers! If you throw these out, I’m going with them. They’re beautiful and they shouldn’t be wasted.” She poked the twig back into its spray.

“Read the card, Sylvie,” Meg said.

Phae didn’t try to stop her. She’d seen Sylvie snatch the card out of the basket before Hal set it down. Sylvie had done the same thing yesterday and the day before, and so on. Phae had tried to stop her in the beginning but had only managed to pocket a few of them before Sylvie began her interception game. Phae had tired of the fight.

Sylvie smiled and pulled the small card out of her pocket. She read the card silently, giggled, then said, “Oh Meg, this is a good one. It says, ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, unlike you. I’ll take you anyway. Love, Kent.’”

Both women chortled. Phae eyed them disdainfully.

“Yep, pretty good,” Meg agreed. “My favorite is the one with all the little red roses shaped into hearts. You know, the one that says, ‘Be my crotchety Valentine.’”

“Yeah,” Sylvie said, “but I also thought that other one was great, where he wrote, ‘Phae, you walk in beauty like a really stormy night.’”

They laughed louder, ignoring Phae’s censorious glare.

“And then, the one that went, ‘How do I love thee? Let me count the ways … If you weren’t so mean I’d be able to think of something here. Love, Kent.’” Sylvie fanned herself as tears ran down her cheeks. “Oh, he’s got you, Phae.”

“Enough,” Phae said, standing up. “Let’s rinse that hair, Aunt Meg.”

Meg smiled sympathetically. “I know this is hard on you Phae-phae. And I know you’re embarrassed. But you shouldn’t be. Everybody thinks it’s wonderfully romantic.”

“Yeah, and it’s good for business. We’ve been swamped thanks to his antics. How many times have you been in this week, Meg?” Sylvie asked.

“I can answer that,” Phae said. “Three.”

“Surely not that many,” Meg said.

“Well, at least you’re getting your hair done. Some of these jokers have only been coming in to get a few laughs at my expense and then they just leave,” Phae grumbled.

“Not true,” Sylvie said. “We’ve made more money this week than ever before.”

“Whatever,” Phae said, lowering Meg back down into the sink. “But if one more corny fool comes in here and places an order for flowers with the old, ‘Oh, I thought this was must be a florist,’ joke, I won’t be held responsible for what I do.”

Sylvie sighed as she flipped though her appointment book. “I wonder where Neesa is?”

Phae turned on the water. “Neesa’s coming in again? Good Lord. If you trim off any more of her hair, she won’t have any left.”

“That’s what I told her. She said she’d just get a style today.” Sylvie wandered to the front door. “She should have been here ten minutes ago. She wanted to be here for the daily delivery, and she’s never late. I hope nothing’s … oh … my … god … I …”

Phae stared at Sylvie who was peering out the small square windows in the door. “What’s wrong?”

Sylvie whirled around. “Nothing. I saw Neesa. I think I’m going to see what’s been keeping her.” And with that, she dashed out the door.

Phae tried to look out the display window, but the mass of flowers made it impossible to see anything. All she could see through the small window in the door was a few heads bobbing around, a common occurrence in the past week. Half the people in Zeke’s Bend had strolled by at one point or another to gawk at the flowers.