Mr. Perfect (Sinister in Savannah #2) - Aimee Nicole Walker Page 0,3
if I was the only one who hadn’t received a banner and cupcakes before you came along.”
Jimmy blew out an exasperated breath. “Can’t you allow someone to do something nice for you?”
With the exception of his friends, people didn’t do things for Felix unless they wanted something in exchange. “No.”
Jimmy narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t you think that says more about you than it does other people?”
“Maybe, Jimmy. It still doesn’t explain why we’re starting a new tradition with me. Why not Maureen from classifieds? Her birthday was two weeks ago. No cupcakes. No banner. Holton’s birthday was last month. No cupcakes. No banner. So, again, I ask: why me?”
“James.”
“Excuse me?” Felix asked
Jimmy rolled his eyes. “My name is James, and sometimes people call me Jamie. No one calls me Jimmy.”
“No one?” Felix asked, quirking a brow.
“Okay. My mamaw still does. Everyone else calls me James or Jamie.”
“I’ve been calling you Jimmy since you arrived,” Felix countered.
“And I’ve corrected you each time.”
“Yet you make a banner and bring in cupcakes for my birthday. Why?”
Jimmy sighed as heavily as Ree had. Felix understood. He was exhausting, especially when something didn’t add up. Felix had been downright rude to Jimmy from day one, and yet the kid set up a little birthday party. Felix smelled a rat.
The younger man ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up and somehow making it look even better. “You don’t like me, and it bothers me.”
“I don’t know you,” Felix countered. “If you want to succeed in this business, then you better find a way to squelch your people-pleasing tendencies. You’ll burn out in a year. You need to write the unvarnished truth about whatever story you uncover and not pull your punches just because someone might not like it. I’ve been an asshole to you since the day we met. I don’t deserve cupcakes and a banner, even one with incorrect punctuation.” Jimmy groaned and covered his face, and Felix felt bad about embarrassing him. Sort of. “Even though you shouldn’t have gone to the trouble, I have every intention of stuffing one of these cupcakes in my mouth.”
“Yeah?” Jimmy asked, sounding hopeful.
“Absolutely. Thank you for the cupcakes and the banner.”
“Even though I forgot the comma?” Jimmy asked.
“Yes, Jimmy.”
The young reporter rolled his eyes. “You’re sticking with Jimmy, huh?”
Felix smiled as he crossed the room. He snagged a strawberry cupcake off the display and said, “Absolutely. James is too formal, and Jamie is too…” Felix waved his empty hand around in the air as he searched for the right word. “I don’t know. It just doesn’t fit.”
“Fine,” Jimmy groused. “Happy freaking birthday.”
“There’s the spirit,” Felix said as Jimmy stormed out of the room.
Felix ate his cupcake in three bites, then went back for a second. Maybe Jimmy wasn’t so bad.
Felix’s morning was busy, which meant it went by so fast he couldn’t dwell on the speech he was scheduled to deliver at The Rotary Club’s luncheon. He had aced his public speaking and debate classes, so that wasn’t what made his palms sweat during the drive across town. It was his ulterior motive for accepting the opportunity in the first place. There was a certain Rotarian he wanted to speak to, and the ordinary methods of scheduling an appointment hadn’t been successful.
By the time he arrived for the meeting, the sun was high in the sky and scorching the earth. Felix parked the car, then put on the tie and grabbed the blazer he’d brought with him. Christ. It had to be a hundred degrees with the humidity, and the gentry still insisted on wearing formal attire for Rotary meetings. The business-casual craze hadn’t made it to Savannah yet.
Once he was satisfied that his tie was straight, Felix turned off the car and quickly headed across the parking lot. He had every intention of drinking his weight in sweet tea during lunch. He reached the vestibule inside the building and skidded to a halt when he saw the sign for the event. It read: The Rotary Club is proud to present Felix Franklin and Jude Arrow.
“Fuck me sideways,” Felix murmured.
“That’s a position we’ve never tried.”
The familiar deep voice was the psychological equivalent to an electromagnetic pulse bomb, short-circuiting the wiring in Felix’s brain and shutting down his systems, one by one. Felix’s vision dimmed first, then his hearing dulled, and his chest became tight from the trapped air in his failing lungs.