Page 4 of The Dallas Dilemma

“See you later,” I murmur.

“Bye,” he says softly.

I close the door a little too aggressively, locking it quickly and leaning against it to take a few cleansing breaths. That was...awkward.

Dallas probably thinks I’m a freak. I doubt he’ll come over again or try to cultivate any kind of neighborly relationship after that shit-show of an introduction.God.

I don’t know why I can banter with strangers through a screen, but when it comes to real life, I’m a blubbering mess. Maybe it’s the introvert in me.

And…I just remembered I’m wearing my pajamas.Fantastic.

Blowing out a long breath and pushing off the door, I shuffle back to my office. I do need to get back to work. And I hope it gets busier, or else I’m going to obsess over that entire interaction for the next several hours, picking it apart to analyze his motivation and my own shortcomings.

Because that’s who I am at my core. I overanalyze everything.

And my first meeting with Dallas Westfield––specifically my own behavior and his possible opinions of me––has given me plenty to analyze.

CHAPTER TWO

Dallas

I stareat the closed door for a few beats, my teeth worrying at my lower lip. I don’t know why I thought it was such a great idea to come over and formally introduce myself to Josette. At the time, I was certain it would reassure her. Let her know I’m a nice person.

But now, I think that was a mistake. I’ve made things more awkward and uncomfortable. Add in the fact that Josette is a tiny little thing, and at six-three and two-hundred-ten pounds, my size can be imposing to even average-sized people. Hopefully she’ll learn to relax around me after we get to know each other a little better.

Heaving a sigh, I turn and head back into my own apartment. I navigate through the boxes and storage bins as I head into the kitchen to finish unpacking thedishes, pots, and pans. Moving always sucks, but this time, it’s been harder than before.

I moved to Grenville from Los Angeles for my new job, and I know exactly no one in the area. No friends to help me unload the moving truck or unpack these boxes. I’m on my own. Luckily, I live a pretty minimalist lifestyle and don’t hold onto a bunch of unnecessary junk. I should be done unpacking within a few days. But it would still be nice if I had a friend to help me. Someone to talk to.

Linc Manning, my new boss, seems like a cool dude, but we’ve yet to meet in person. He hired me after several emails and two video calls, and we’ve developed a good rapport, but I’m still not sure if he’s the type to befriend his employees or keep things strictly professional. Hell, I don’t know ifheeven knows. He’s a contractor, and he’s been having trouble finding reliable carpenters in the area. So he hired me, his very first actual employee, to work with him on a subdivision he’s overseeing in nearby Ashton. He promised me a year’s worth of work with a possibility of a permanent position if it works out as well as he hopes.

And it couldn’t have come at a better time for me. Sure, I had plenty of work in L.A., but I desperately needed a change of scenery. Last year, I was in love. Holding visions of a happy life together in my heart, I asked my girlfriend to marry me with zero doubts that she’d agree. We’d been together for a long time, we were happy, we rarely argued, and she always smiled when she told me she loved me.

Imagine my shock when she stared at me with a disbelieving expression, shook her head, and saidno. She told me I was a good guy, and that she did love me, but she wasn’tin lovewith me. I wasn’t the other half of her heart. Her soulmate. And she simply couldn’t marry me, not when there was a chance she’d find someone who would make her feel whole.

I was heartbroken and bitter, and I couldn’t understand why she’d stayed with me for two years and let me believe we were solid when she was just, what? Biding her time until someone better came along?

Then, three months ago, I won a bid to work on a whole-house remodel in Bel Air. I showed up on day one only to find out my new clients were my ex and herhusbandof five months. She’d met and married her “other half” within four months of dumping me. Apparently, all she needed was a mansion, an exorbitant bank account, and the six-carat rock on her left hand to feelcomplete.

So yeah, I quit the job and started looking for work outside of Los Angeles. I needed a break. Some time and space to get my head on straight. And a year-long gig a hundred miles away from anything that reminded me of her sounded perfect.

A familiar chiming alert echoes from my pocket, and I smile as I place the dishes I’m holding in the cabinet and yank my phone out. The only notifications I get from the Cackle app are for when JoeVSVolcano, orJoeyB,posts something new.

This dude laid into me last year when I was venting over the demise of my relationship, and his testy attitudetriggered something in me. I responded to the trolling, which I never do, and it instigated a war, of sorts, between us. We’ve been disparaging each other’s posts for the last year, and social media has never been quite this fun or exhilarating.

Honestly? I think JoeyB and I could be friends if we ever met in real life. Most of the shit I spout, I don’t actually believe. I just say it to egg him on. And while most arguments on the internet degenerate into tossing insults about someone’s appearance or intelligence, JoeyB’s responses, though in direct opposition of whatever I’ve said, are always intelligent and topic-specific. That “topic” being romcom movies more times than not.

It’s all very silly, I know, but it’s the small things that make life interesting, right? And going head-to-head with him sparks an excitement in me I haven’t felt since beforeshe who shall not be namedbroke my heart.

Opening the app, one corner of my mouth ticks up as I read his post.

JoeyB@JoeVSVolcano

Watched “Notting Hill” for the 28thtime last night. Still an excellent movie. Four and a half stars. #whoopsiedaisies

0 ?0 ?5

I laugh,the sound echoing through the half-empty apartment. In the post that started this beef between us, Iinsisted romcoms were the reason women had an unrealistic view of men and romance. But that was just the anger talking. I didn’t believe anything I said. I was just bitter.

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