Page 29 of Dallas
I finally find it back in the stairwell. After reaching up to pull down the ladder, I climb into the attic and use my phone as a flashlight. It only takes me a few seconds to spot the busted pipe directly over where her bedroom is.
I’m not about to try to walk around up here. I can’t see well enough, and I certainly don’t need to fall through the ceiling. It seems like a bad idea to turn on the lights.
I can see a significant volume of water soaking into the insulation. It’s no wonder it’s dripping through the ceiling. There’s a good chance it might even collapse soon.
I rush back down the ladder and find Arianna at the foot of the steps where I left her.
She’s rubbing her arms. “Is it bad?” she asks, still sniffling.
“It’s not great. It’s certainly not safe to go back into your apartment. I don’t trust the ceiling to hold.”
She gasps. “And the books?”
I pull her into my arms. “Baby, I think the books will be safe. The damage is above your apartment, and we turned it off pretty fast. Even if your ceiling collapses, it won’t fall all the way through to the first floor.” I hope I’m right. I’ll get some people to come and do whatever needs to be done to save the books tomorrow morning.
She wraps her arms around me and buries her face in my chest. “Thank you.”
I hold her for a few minutes and then ease her back. This is the first time I realize what she’s wearing. My girl has on a fucking sexy pink nightie that barely covers her ass. It’s frilly and girly and nothing like the buttoned-up librarian she is by day.
My cock stiffens, and I mentally tell it to stand down. “I want you to wait right here for me. Tell me what you need from your apartment, and I’ll grab it.”
She draws in a slow breath and turns around as if it might help if she stares into the space. “I don’t know. I can’t think.”
“Do you have any important papers or jewelry?” Maybe if I provide some ideas, it will help her think.
She shakes her head. “No. Nothing like that. My purse would be nice, so I have my ID, medical card, and credit card.” She glances down, and an adorable blush covers her cheeks. “And some clothes.”
That’s an understatement. I kiss her forehead. “Wait here.” I’m not incredibly worried about a total ceiling collapse happening imminently, but I wouldn’t want to risk Arianna going inside.
I hurry to her bedroom, find a bag in her closet, and quickly stuff a few of everything from her drawers into the duffle. I leave the ridiculous polyester librarian uniforms in her closet. I ignore the pumps, too. I grab tennis shoes and sandals, bras and panties, leggings, shorts, a few sundresses, and tank tops.
I head for her bathroom next and push everything from her counter into the bag on top of her clothes. On my way out of her bedroom, I grab an oversized sweatshirt that’s draped over a chair. After snagging her purse from the kitchen counter, I meet her at the door.
She’s still holding her phone in her hand. She has been this entire time. She’s also trembling. It’s warm out, so I know she’s not cold. She’s in shock.
I set the duffle at her feet and pull the sweatshirt over her head before squatting down to rummage in the bag for her sandals. She’s so distraught that she hardly notices me putting the sandals on her feet.
I shoulder her duffle and her purse and grab her face. “It’s going to be okay, baby.”
She nods. “The books…” she repeats. My girl doesn’t care about her belongings. She cares about the library and its contents. I’ve learned a lot about her tonight. She’s fucking selfless.
“They’ll be fine. Let’s get you home.”
“Home…”
The best part about this busted pipe is that my girl is going to sleep where she belongs tonight. In our bed under my protection. This arrangement will not be temporary. She will sleep in my arms for the rest of our lives.
I help her out the door, find the keys to the library in her purse, and lock the back door before guiding her to the car.
She’s numb as I stick her things in the back seat and literally lift her into the passenger seat. I buckle her in and kiss her temple. I hate how distraught she is. She’s chewing on her lip and staring at the library.
When I’m behind the wheel, pulling away, I grab her hand. “It’s going to be okay, baby.”
“I’ve worked so hard on that library. It’s finally organized. I’ve been applying for grant money to increase the inventory.”
“I know you have, baby. I’m confident it will be okay. I’ll get some people here to assess the damage in the morning.”
She sighs. “Thank you, Dallas. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t known you. I don’t have someone I could have called.” She turns her gaze toward mine. I glance at her. We’re under a streetlamp, so I can see her lips trembling and her eyes watering.
