just like you,” he told Brett with a wink.
Brett’s response was to playfully cuff him.
Growing up an only child with no siblings to share anything with, good or bad, this kind of a physical exchange mystified Alisha—and, in a way, made her a little envious, as well.
“What was all that about?” Alisha asked. She’d heard only a few words of the exchange between the two brothers.
“A misunderstanding” was all Brett seemed willing to say. His answer made no sense to her since his cheerful expression did not match his words. “C’mon. This way,” he told her, leading the way to the rear of the saloon. There was a narrow corridor there that led to the restrooms on one side and an even narrower stairway on the other.
Alisha looked at the wooden staircase with its narrow steps in obvious dismay. Was that the only way to get to the second floor?
“There’s no private access?” she asked.
“The original owner didn’t think to build one,” he told her. His uncle had always liked to take the simplest path available to him.
The din suddenly swelled, growing even louder. Alisha glanced over her shoulder at the people at the bar and sitting at the small, round tables scattered throughout the room. A thought suddenly hit her. “I have to walk through the bar in order to get to the apartment—and in order to leave in the morning?” she questioned.
He answered, pretending that she was objecting to the distance, not the location. “It’s not that far from the front door to the back,” he told her. “You should be able to cross it making good time.”
Alisha glared at him. He was talking down to her, she thought. “I don’t need sarcasm.”
Brett inclined his head. “Duly noted.” With that, he began to retrace his steps, leaving her standing where she was.
Surprised, she called out to him, “Where are you going?”
“Back to the bar.” He nodded toward it. “Since you’re not interested in the apartment, I thought I’d get back to work.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested in the apartment,” Alisha protested.
He made his way back to her. “You made it sound as if the lack of a private entrance killed the deal for you.”
She hated when things were just assumed about her—the way Pierce had just assumed she would go along with his behavior in exchange for his family name. “Did I say that?”
“No,” he allowed.
“Well, then, let’s go and see it,” she said, pointing up the stairs toward where she assumed the apartment was located.
Brett laughed, shaking his head as he got in front of her to lead the way up the stairs. “Lady Doc, you give out really mixed signals.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” Alisha asked as she climbed up the stairs behind him.
“Calling you what?” he asked as he continued climbing.
Almost slipping, she clutched on to the banister more tightly. “Lady Doc,” she repeated unwillingly.
He spared her a glance, making note of the white-knuckle hold she had on the banister. Was she afraid of heights? he wondered.
“Well, aren’t you a doctor?”
“Yes, of course I am.” She was frazzled at this point, and it took effort not to snap.
“Then you object to being called a lady?” he asked, doing his best to keep a straight expression on his face.
She glared at his back. She really hoped that interaction with this man was going to be at a minimum. “No, of course not.”
“Then what’s the problem?” he asked mildly.
Maybe he was just dense, but she had a feeling that he wasn’t. What he was was annoying. “For one thing, it’s not my name.”
“Not your legal name,” he emphasized. “Like I told you, we’re not uptight and formal here.” Reaching the top of the stairs, he stepped aside on the landing to give her space. There was very little available. “Lady Doc suits you,” he told her.
He was standing much too close to her, she thought, stepping to one side. Otherwise, if she took a breath, her chest would come in contact with his, and that was completely unacceptable.
“Dr. Cordell suits me better. What?” she asked when she saw the expression on his face.
“I think Lady Doc is a better fit, at least while you’re here.”
“Fine, just show me the apartment so I can write you a check and get this over with.” She gestured toward the closed door. “Why don’t you people have a hotel here?” she asked. All this could have been avoided if she could have just rented a room at the start of this whole venture.
He shrugged carelessly. “Haven’t gotten around to building one.”
“I noticed that.”
He pretended not to notice that she was being sarcastic now. “You might have also noticed that Forever isn’t exactly a tourist attraction. Most people who pass through here pass through here,” he underscored. “Those that come for a visit usually stay with the people they’re visiting. Having a hotel here wouldn’t exactly make wise business sense.”
Turning the knob on the door that led into the apartment, he pushed it open.
“Doesn’t that have a lock?” she asked, stunned. She was accustomed to apartments that came equipped with triple locks on their doors.
“It has a lock,” he replied, gesturing at it.
“With a key?” she emphasized through clenched teeth. Why did she have to spell everything out? Was he slow-witted, or did he just enjoy getting her annoyed?
“Ah, well, that’s another story.”
“Does it have a happy ending?” she asked.
He laughed. “There’s a key around here somewhere. I just have to find it.”
And most likely, make a copy of it, she thought. He’d probably think nothing of coming into the apartment—with her in it—in the middle of the night. “Better yet, once I rent this, can I get a locksmith in here?”
“Do you have a locksmith?” he asked her innocently.
“Don’t you?” she asked incredulously.
Just exactly what did this town have by way of services?
“Nope.” He saw her rolling her eyes and waited until she stopped. “We have a handyman, though.”
Alisha searched for inner strength. “Does he change locks?”
“I’ll
