Page 2 of Dallas
I really am an asshole. My ex was right. I consider rounding the counter to make sure she’s okay, but that would probably make things worse.
She’s shaking as she rights herself. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly. She’s flustered, and it’s my fault.
I draw in a deep breath. “I’ll stop being a dick now. I’m Dallas Wilde. I was hoping the library might have old blueprints for various buildings in town. My cousins and I want to assess which buildings need the most urgent attention.”
She swallows and nods. “Uh, I’m not sure. Maybe. I’ve never taken the time to dig into the archives. There are lots of boxes in the storage room. No one has ever asked for something like that before.”
“Would you mind if I take a look?”
She licks her full lips and nods. “Sure. I don’t see why not.” Pointing toward a room behind her, she continues, “It might be overwhelming.” She turns and opens the door.
I walk behind the check-out desk and follow her into the room. I cringe. What a mess. There are ancient metal shelves lining both walls with stacks of boxes on them. They seem to be labeled on the ends, but I wonder how accurate the information is. A long folding table at least thirty years old extends down the middle of the small room. Four equally aged folding chairs are tucked under both sides of the table.
“Wow…”
“Uh, yeah, I haven’t done much with this room. The entire library was in disarray when I first arrived. I’ve been, uh…”
I turn from looking at the stacks of boxes to look at her. “You’ve been what, Arianna?” I say gently. I need to soften my tone with her. Enough snark. She’s nervous. I’m sending her into a panic.
I’m even more curious about what her story is by the second, but if I want answers, I’ll need to tone down my attitude.
She shrugs. “Never mind. You don’t want to hear all this.” She lifts a hand to tuck an errant curl behind her ear, but it pops right back out. I can tell her curls are unruly when her hair is down. Something I intend to see in the near future.
I pull out a rickety folding chair, uncertain if it will hold me, and carefully sit. “I do. Tell me.”
She draws in a deep breath, staring at me with narrowed, uncertain eyes before continuing. “The previous librarian was…”
“Inept?”
She gives me a small smile. “That’s very kind. Anyway, there were books just left on shelves with no rhyme or reason. I think she had put them in any open space for many years. It’s taken me this long to get everything organized.”
I glance at the door to this backroom. She called it a storage room. I guess it is exactly that—a room to store old documents. “Does anyone ever come in?”
She sighs. “Not often. I’d like to get some programs going to lure more people in, especially kids. It was too chaotic to do that until just recently. I’m sorry I’ve never managed to open even one of these boxes.” She nods toward the stacks on the shelves.
“It’s okay. I’ll dig through them, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” She takes a step back.
I should let her go, but I don’t want her to leave. “My understanding is that most of the town is in disrepair and funding is very low. How have you managed to keep the library open?”
“Grants.” She wrings her fingers together. “I’ve spent a lot of time applying for state grants. There is money available for small-town libraries.”
“Ah. That’s good.” She’s bright and obviously works hard. She must love books to devote so much energy to a very dismal cause. “Where did you move here from? What lured you to Wilde, Arizona?”
She stiffens and looks away before turning. “I should really get back to the desk in case someone needs me.” She flees so fast I can’t even respond. She hasn’t gone far, of course. She’s only a few yards away from me on the other side of the door.
I stare at the open doorway between us for a long time. I want to go after her. I want to ask her a million questions. I want to grab her around the waist, pull her onto my lap, and grill her.
Why is she in Wilde? Where did she come from? Why is she hiding behind fake glasses and frumpy clothes?
My follow-up questions are more invasive.
What does she taste like? What color are her nipples? How loud will she moan when I make her come?
I don’t follow her, though. I’ll give her some space. I have to. I’m more confused by my reaction to her than she is. I need a minute. I turn toward the endless number of archive boxes and inhale deeply. The good news is it looks like I will have all the time in the world to get to know Arianna, the mysterious librarian, because it’s going to take a lot more than one afternoon to go through these boxes and find out everything I want to about Wilde.
Chapter 2
