Page 1 of Dallas
Chapter 1
Dallas
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The first time I step into the small, dilapidated, underfunded public library in the dinky town of Wilde, Arizona, and set my gaze on the only person who appears to be in the building—the librarian—I know two undeniable and disturbing facts.
The woman is not who she appears to be, and she is mine.
I don’t know why I know those facts with such certainty. I can’t explain that part, but I do.
She turns her gaze in my direction as the door shuts behind me. There’s a thick, heavy, pregnant pause as we stare at each other. Only a few yards and the check-out desk separate us.
I’m unnerved by the realization that not much space will separate us in the future. I don’t even like that she’s so close and yet so far from me. It’s not as if I could walk around to the back of the desk, pull her into my arms, and kiss her until I’m certain she understands she’s mine.
I don’t even want to do those things. I’m disturbed that I’m even thinking such thoughts. I don’t want to entertain the idea of claiming a woman right now. It’s not on my short list of things to do, and I’m still salty from my divorce, even though it’s been three years since it was finalized.
Seconds tick by as we hold each other’s gazes. My chest tightens. Her breath hitches, her cheeks turn pink, and she bites the corner of her bottom lip. She knows.
I almost feel smug that she’s as aware of our connection as I am, but I force myself to paste on a stern, grouchy expression because I’m kind of aggravated with whatever force of nature has put this woman in front of me today.
When I finally approach the desk, I set my hands on the surface and lean toward her, glancing at the nametag pinned to her blouse. Arianna.
She’s panting, which pleases me, but I won’t share that detail with her. The first thing I say to her is, “Do those matronly, horn-rimmed glasses even have prescription lenses?”
She gasps and takes a step back before removing the glasses with shaky fingers and setting them on the counter. She swallows. She’s rattled, pleasing me more.
My cock gets hard as she licks her lips. “Can I help you with something?” she asks in a wobbly voice.
I let my gaze roam up and down her frame, taking in every lie and only a few truths. For some reason, she’s trying to look older than she is. She’s in her mid-twenties at most. Her hair is up in a bun, but I suspect if it were down and I pulled one of the brown curls, it would reach midway down her back.
She’s wearing a white blouse with only the very top button undone. Her skirt is black, polyester, and knee length. I brazenly lean over the top of the counter to see that she has on sensible black pumps and pantyhose. I haven’t seen a woman wearing pantyhose in years. I didn’t even know they sold them anymore.
It’s like she pulled this outfit out of her grandmother’s closet this morning. I’m not complaining. It’s almost cute. But it doesn’t suit her. This isn’t who she is. The hint of bra I get through the material of her blouse indicates lace. It doesn’t fit with the rest of her ensemble.
Arianna has no jewelry on, except small gold balls in her ears. Her nails are short, blunt, and well-groomed but not painted. What I can see of her skin is tanned and smooth.
When I rock back on my feet and return my gaze to her deep brown eyes, I find them wide. Her mouth is open. My blatant perusal has shaken her further.
She jerks her gaze down and pretends to straighten a pile of what appears to be notecards before I realize they are the check-out cards libraries used to use decades ago. I shouldn’t be surprised that the Wilde Public Library still has them.
I reach for one of the cards, letting my fingers slide along hers as I gently tug one from her grip. “There are places that still use these things? I know Wilde is behind the times, but what year is it here exactly?” I tease.
She giggles, and my cock jumps to attention. A moment after, she covers her mouth, sobers, and takes a step back, releasing the cards. “You’re one of the Wilde grandchildren, aren’t you?”
I nod. “Yep.” I set the card back on the pile and swipe her glasses off the counter so I can hold them up to look through the lenses. I smirk as I set them back down. Just as I suspected. Clear.
Her eyes are wide, and her jaw hangs open. “Are you always this rude?”
I chuckle. “I’m pretty sure I can be a lot ruder. My ex-wife would say I’m a total asshole.” I glance at her hands, which she is now wringing together. “You’re not from here,” I point out.
“Neither are you.”
I grin. “So, we have something in common.” Am I flirting with this girl? I’ve lost all good sense. I rest my elbows on the counter and lean casually against it. “Are you hiding from someone?” I joke.
Arianna’s brown eyes widen again, her cheeks turn bright red, and she stumbles backward. She only barely manages to stop herself from falling on her butt when she reaches out a hand to grab the back of the stool.
I jerk myself upright. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I was kidding.”
