Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Dallas
“Put the romance books down,” I snarled.
Ms. Carlson held three bodice rippers in her claws like a weathered pearl-clutching harpy. Her expression pinched as she glowered at me. It didn’t matter that she was at least a foot shorter and fifty years my senior, she had the look of a wrestler about to bodyslam their opponent in the ring.
“You can’t put these things out.” She waved the book at me. “What if a child picks one up?”
Why was that always the go-to argument? “Not my problem,” I said. “I’m not their parent. I’m not responsible for someone else’s child and what they read. This is my Little Free Library on my property, and if you don’t put the books back, then I’m going to call someone.”
“The whole point of your little library is to take the books.”
“The point is that you take one and leave one, and if you leave another fucking Bible in place of the romance books, we’re going to have a problem.” At this point, I was convinced the woman had a bible wholesaler on call with the amount she had on hand.
Ms. Carlson’s glare became lethal, but it didn’t affect me the way she expected.
This was my first weekend off in months.
The shop was closed and I had nothing on my schedule except for resting.
It had taken my sister and her boyfriends bullying me relentlessly (along with holding “you don’t want to be like Austin” over my head) to convince me to take this time off.
Needless to say, I was not in the mood to throw down with a fucking eighty-seven-year-old over the smut I carried in my free library. I was also certain she wasn’t ready for the conversation about how wonderful all of these books were. Or how hot.
“How dare you speak to me that way, Dallas Whynot!” she seethed. “You know, I used to—”
“Babysit me, yes I know. I remember. You terrorized us then, and terrorize us now.” I grabbed hold of the three books and simply plucked them from her grip.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted all these books because you enjoy reading them.
If I remember correctly, I think I even spotted one in your purse last week when I dropped by Avery’s art class. ”
Her cheeks turned red. “I would never read that filth.”
“Thou doth protest too much.” I made sure to enunciate every word excruciatingly clear. “You are welcome to take one if you’d like to read it. Which will it be? How about the one about a millennial and a minotaur with a big—”
“Your momma did not raise you right,” she growled. “You Whynots think you can do anything since the town is your namesake. But ever since your daddy died, nothing has been the same.”
I ignored the jabbing pain her words caused. “Would you rather the dark stalker romance where he wears a mask? Or the book about two college swimmers doing kinky stuff together? Both of those at least have humans, but they’re still wonderfully hot.”
I was being an asshole, sure. But it was too early for this shit. Ms. Carlson scoffed, but surprised me by snagging the dark stalker romance from my grip. My brows shot up as she angrily shoved a bible into the little red box and marched across my lawn to her car.
Well, then. I hadn’t expected her to be a dark romance reader. I plastered on a smile and waved at her, chuckling as she flipped me off before stomping on the gas. The tires peeled out dramatically and I shook my head.
She literally lived a block away from me.
The moment she was out of sight, I raked my fingers through my hair and returned the books.
I spent a minute reorganizing the two small shelves of the wooden box until it was neat and organized.
This box was just a fraction of the books I owned, but I loved the amount of people I saw stopping by to pick one out.
Now what?
Normally, I’d be getting in my truck and making my way to my auto shop.
Whynot was a small town, so there wasn’t usually a lot of work, but there was enough to keep me booked and busy.
Oftentimes, I just kept a running list of who was going to be in need of an oil change soon so I could send them a reminder.
Easier to make sure no one’s engine blew out than deal with having to deliver an expensive bill.
Most people couldn’t afford shit like that out here.
I shut the little door and planted my hands on my hips.
It was officially September, and everything was still bleached from the summer sun.
There was no such thing as fall here, although it’d dipped down into the 60s and 70s some mornings before hitting the high 80s, and that was a relief.
Just a whisper of spooky season, a hint that had me craving a pumpkin spice latte while wearing shorts and flip flops.
I wasn’t used to having the day off like this. The directive was to relax for four days and set a good example for my older brother, so my sister and I could bully him into taking time off.
Austin was the textbook definition of both burnt out and stubborn. It was annoying. I loved the guy but sometimes I wanted to kidnap him, drive him to a spa in the middle of nowhere, steal his laptop and keys, and leave him for a week.
Although knowing him, Austin would rather walk through the desert in high summer trying to get back to work than spend time in a hot tub relaxing.
We all had our baggage, though. Avery and our mom had their issues, although the two of them had worked on it some over the last year. Mom was in therapy, which was good for everyone.
Austin was a workaholic because he didn’t want to confront the grief of losing our father and all of the expectations that fell on him as the oldest.
Then there was me.
My issues were a hodgepodge of those things plus a heavy dose of middle child syndrome.
Therapy had helped me work through the feelings of being overshadowed, but sometimes it still lingered.
But I kept those things to myself. It was neither Austin or Avery’s fault, and I loved both of them.
I didn’t need to burden them with my own bullshit.
My phone rattled in my pocket and I fished it out. My eyes immediately narrowed.
Avery the Menace
Hey . . . So funny thing just happened
I know I just said you should be relaxing, but can you do me a favor?
I snorted. That was quick. So much for a vacation.
Me
what do you want?
Avery the Menace
You know the artist visiting for the residency?
Of course I did. We all did. Avery had been talking non-stop about the artist residency for the last six months.
She’d gotten the idea around Christmas last year then quickly went into full planning mode.
It was a great idea, of course. One everyone supported.
But I’d heard about it at least fifty times in the last month alone so yeah.
I knew the artist visiting for the residency.
Me
Yes???
Avery
She just called, her car broke down
It sounds like she made it to the shop. Can you just pick her up and take her to the inn? Austin should be able to get her settled from there
Me
And why can’t you do it?
This time, I got a side text from Mateo. Her boyfriend. My best friend. Someone I loved dearly and still occasionally wanted to punch.
Mateo
Avery is busy. Thanks for helping ;)
I wrinkled my nose at that.
What a bastard.
I was so happy for the three of them, but they were so disgustingly in love that I wanted to douse them with a spray bottle.
It’d been a little over a year since Levi had officially moved to Whynot, and I’d watched my little sister and two friends become the happiest people in the world.
They were even talking about getting a dog.
Planning to build a giant house. They were going all the way, and I was So. Damn. Happy. For. Them.
So now I was on rescue duty.
I wasn’t sure I could actually complain. I liked helping people when I could.
With a sigh, I got into my truck and eased out onto the street. My shop was just a couple minutes away. So was the hotel. Dropping a stranger off would take me ten minutes tops in a town as small as ours.
I wasn’t even sure how I’d spend the rest of my day after playing hero. I could catch up on the books I wanted to read. Could actively search for the smuttiest stories to buy for the little free library so I could continue to wage war against my prudish neighbor.
Or, I could organize my closet. The one with my sex bench, floggers, handcuffs . . . That’d probably leave me more frustrated than anything else, given the layer of dust accumulating on it all.
Maybe I’d go get coffee and make myself useful. There was a wedding at Whynot Stay tomorrow, but folks were setting up today. From everything I’d heard about it, the couple sounded like an absolute nightmare.
I’d been the ear for everyone’s complaints.
Evie told me that they changed their minds last minute on the buttercream and requested whipped frosting for the cake.
June mentioned the bride had emailed her three times a day in the last week about the flowers.
Austin made me proofread an email response after the couple questioned the hotel contract about incidentals.
It was moments like this where I was happy my work involved cars, tools, and listening to music at the garage. Occasionally I’d get the random old-timer in who thought they knew cars better than me, but otherwise—I didn’t have to deal with customers like that.
Regardless, I had to do something. If I sat around the entire weekend, I’d just get restless and grumpy.
I slowed my truck as I spotted a car in my lot.
“Well, fuck,” I whispered.
A woman leaned against the brick wall of my shop. Stark raven-black hair fell like a curtain down her shoulders. No makeup, yoga pants, and a tank top that showed off every curve.
I couldn’t stop staring at her.
Be cool, be cool. I hopped out of the truck.
“H-i.”
My voice cracked.
Fuck.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I could not believe my voice just cracked. I was a grown man in my thirties, and my voice had just cracked.