Chapter 2
Arianna
He’s back. I see him getting out of his truck out front.
I wish I could say it was an accident that I’m watching through the window, but it’s not.
I’ve started finding things to do near the windows every day.
I have no idea why. It doesn’t change anything.
All my watching does is emotionally prepare me for his inevitable entrance fifteen seconds later.
As usual, I rush away from the window so that I’m standing behind the check-out desk, pretending to be engrossed in something important when he walks in.
I lift my gaze and act surprised. “Oh, hi. How was your cousin’s wedding?
” I know his cousin Tiago got married on Saturday.
His cousin Ryder got married two weeks before that.
These men started descending on Wilde just over a month ago when they received the letters letting each of Amos Wilde’s grandchildren know he had passed and they could come to Wilde to collect their inheritance.
I also know it’s not that simple. The heirs have to stay in Wilde and help regenerate the town and make it flourish for ten years before they receive a dollar.
Dallas has been here for two weeks. Rumor has it he owned a pawn shop in Texas before he sold it to move here.
Apparently, he’s taken on the task of dealing with the town’s blueprints.
There’s an odd smirk on Dallas’s face as he approaches me.
It’s nearly always there. It’s his permanent expression, as if he’s judging me and finds me humorous.
It gives me the chills. “It was lovely. Just immediate family. The two lovebirds took off for Florida for a week, which is nice. It cuts down on the moaning I have to endure in the mansion by half.”
I furrow my brows and stare. What is he talking about?
He chuckles and sets his elbows on my counter before leaning into my space. He does this every day. “Sex, baby. The mansion is filled with sex. Both of my cousins are newly married. They fuck all day.”
I suck in a breath and continue to stare at him. Is he serious? I can’t believe he would say that out loud. Plus, his gaze roams up and down my body as though he’s considering having sex with me . Ha . He’s sadly mistaken if he thinks I’m interested in such a thing.
He laughs. “I love it when you get all rattled. It’s adorable.”
That comment makes me gasp. “You made that up to shock me?”
He shakes his head. “No, baby. It’s all true. I just said it to shock you. I could have kept it to myself.”
Why is he calling me baby ? He’s never done that before. I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’m not sure how I feel about much of anything anymore. There is no reason for me to spend every waking hour thinking about Dallas Wilde. It’s madness. I’ve never been consumed by a man before.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about why this is, and I’ve rationalized my weird fascination. It’s because I’m bored out of my mind here in Wilde. I love living in this small town, but I don’t have enough interaction with other humans. It’s my own fault, and it’s by design.
I don’t want to interact more than necessary with anyone else. I don’t want them to ask questions. I don’t have close friends because I prefer not to have to tell them about myself. It’s easier this way.
The job opening two years ago was a godsend. I’d just finished my degree in library sciences in Phoenix when this position was advertised only a few hours away. When I saw the listing, I jumped at the opportunity.
Turned out I needn’t have worried. No one else applied. Who would want to move to a small, run-down town to take over a disaster of a library with almost no funding?
Me.
I came here for my own reasons, and I’ve never shared them with anyone. I manage to keep my secrets because I don’t let myself get close enough to anyone to have to share any specifics.
The bonus about being the head librarian—and only employee—of the Wilde Public Library is that there’s a small apartment above it. Because the town knew it couldn’t really afford to pay a librarian when I was hired, they let me live in the apartment rent-free.
Granted, it’s as run down as everything else in this town, and no otherwise sane twenty-five-year-old woman would stay here and deal with this monumental task, but I do it because it’s the first place I’ve breathed easily in ten years.
I’m pretty sure the only reason I’m intrigued by Dallas Wilde is because he’s the only man to have ever looked me in the eyes.
Or maybe I’m lying to myself. It’s likely there are plenty of men near my age in town who have come into the library to try and woo me, but I’ve kept them at arm’s length and never met their gazes.
Dallas is magnetic. He forces me to look at him. Not with words. He has a strange power over me. I try to ignore it, but it’s always near the surface, even when he’s not here.
The highlight of every single day is Dallas. I wake up every morning hoping he’ll come in, hold my breath until he does, and go to bed at night thinking of him.
To pile madness on top of madness, I’ve started masturbating, which I’ve never done until Dallas. He’s the subject of every daydream I have when I close my eyes.
Dallas makes my body react in ways I never dreamed possible. Even though I’m a librarian and I’ve read more books in every single genre than the average person, I always thought the things that happened in romance novels were all fiction.
I might have been wrong. My body physically reacts to thoughts of Dallas, and it definitely reacts to his presence. When he comes into the library, butterflies take flight in my stomach. My otherwise composed and articulate self turns into a blubbering idiot.
He doesn’t have to be present to elicit that response, though. I’ve grown fixated on a romanticized version of him. A man who comes into my room at night, hovers over me, and then does things to me that I would never speak out loud.
In the dark, late at night, Dallas is a god among men. He sits in the armchair next to the window, crosses one leg over the other, rubs his day-old beard, and uses the most seductive voice to order me around.
I don’t know why I picture him that way, except that he projects himself as being incredibly sure of himself and bossy. That part’s not imaginary. He’s the cockiest man I’ve ever met. He’s also significantly older than me and way out of my league.
Why does he come here every day and flirt with me? It’s almost insulting. Borderline cruel. He’s leading me on. Isn’t he?
Why should I care? I’m using him for fodder for my newly found sexuality. My panties are wet all the time because of him. Day and night. They are wet now as he smirks at me.
“You’re not wearing your glasses today,” he teases, nodding to where they sit on the counter.
I roll my eyes. I’ve worn those glasses every day for two years. They’ve been part of my “look.” Dallas dismantles me, though. It’s like he’s stripping me, starting with my glasses, whether it’s intentional or not.
The chime over the door tingles, indicating someone else is entering the library, and I grab the glasses and slide them onto my face without thinking about how Dallas will perceive the action.
It’s a habit. Sometimes, the weight of them on the bridge of my nose gives me a headache, but I always put them on when someone comes in.
A glance at Dallas shows that he has noticed. One corner of his mouth is lifted in a much bigger smirk and he’s chuckling under his breath.
I jerk my attention to the newcomer for a fleeting second. It’s Doug Swanson. He works for Reagan Clegg, who owns the adventure company in town. Reagan is also the wife of Dallas’s cousin Tiago. They are the couple Dallas just mentioned who are on their honeymoon.
Doug comes into the library now and then. He’s one of the men I’m pretty sure only does so to flirt with me. I look away quickly so that I won’t meet his gaze. “Welcome to Wilde Public Library. Let me know if I can help you find anything.”
Doug continues toward the desk. “Hey, Arianna.”
Dallas doesn’t move. He continues to lean on the counter, giving the impression he and I were deep in conversation.
Doug looks in his direction. “You must be one of the Wildes.”
Dallas nods. “I am.” He doesn’t introduce himself, and there’s an odd pause during which no one speaks at all.
Doug slowly returns his attention to me. “I’m looking for some books about rock climbing. Can you help me?”
I sigh inwardly. I’ve “helped” Doug find books on rock climbing on more than one occasion. He usually checks out a few, sits in one of the library’s comfy chairs to read for a while, and tries to make small talk with me.
“Of course.” I round the desk, leaving Dallas. Part of me hates to put distance between us because I love our odd daily banter. But part of me thinks it might be interesting to see how Dallas reacts to me being courted by a local man.
Doug is much closer to my age. He’s probably late twenties. He’s fit and athletic. I suppose most people would consider him attractive. Maybe I would, too, if it weren’t for the fact that no man catches my attention.
Until Dallas. That man catches my attention just fine.
Is it possible I can feel him watching me as I lead Doug to the aisle in the library dedicated to outdoor activities? I swear his gaze is drilling holes in my back.
Doug glances toward the desk as I reach for a book. “That guy is creepy,” he mutters. “He’s watching you. What’s he doing here?”
I pull out the book and hand it to Doug, even though he’s already checked it out before. Sometimes, he checks out the same books. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t read them. It’s not like he doesn’t know everything about rock climbing already.
“He’s researching the town’s blueprints,” I inform him.
“Boring.”
I inhale slowly through my nose and find myself sticking up for the man still standing at my counter. “Wilde needs his help,” I murmur.
“Yeah, I guess.”
I grab another book and hold it out, but when he doesn’t take it out of my hand, I glance up to realize he’s looking past me toward Dallas. “He’s into you,” he whispers. “He’s like twice your age.”
I stiffen. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s waiting for me to help him,” I lie. Dallas could go on back into the archive room and start his search without me. He’s done so several times. He doesn’t need my permission or assistance.
“Want me to stick around? I feel weird leaving you here alone with him.”
I turn fully toward Doug and look at him without quite meeting his eyes. “He’s just doing research. I’m fine.” The truth is I’d rather be alone with Dallas than Doug any day of the week.
Doug isn’t exactly creepy. He’s a perfectly nice guy. It’s just that I’m not interested in him, and he clearly only comes to the library to flirt with me. I’ll be glad when he leaves. He’s interrupting my time with Dallas.
The fact that I think that way is almost as unnerving as Doug being here. I want him to leave, so I take the books out of his grasp and hurry toward the desk. “I’ll get you checked out.”
When I reach the counter, Dallas hasn’t moved an inch. Not his feet, anyway. He has turned his torso to watch my interaction with Doug. As soon as I’m back behind the desk, he resumes his position, leaning over the top of it on his elbows as though he intends to stay like that all day.
It’s oddly…comforting, which makes no sense. It’s like he’s watching over me, as if Doug is some sort of threat I need protecting from. What a coincidence.
Doug hands me his library card, his brow furrowed. He steps too close to Dallas as if he might be able to get Dallas to budge, but he fails. Dallas is a statue.
The two men say nothing, though the tension in the air is palpable. I’m almost concerned that they might turn, face off, and fight over me.
I hand the books and library card back to Doug. “Thanks for coming in. I hope you enjoy your reading.”
Doug takes them from me slowly, hesitating.
I wonder if he will say something else, but he finally sighs and turns to leave. “Thanks, Arianna. See you next time.”
The moment the door closes behind Doug, Dallas says, “That guy is creepy.”
I chuckle. “That’s what he said about you.”
Dallas gives me his usual cocky grin before his expression turns serious. “He wants to fuck you.”
I gasp and grab the edge of the counter to avoid stumbling. Did Dallas just say that out loud? I’ve never met anyone as blunt as him. “That’s ridiculous.”
Dallas growls, shocking me further. “Arianna, that boy wants to fuck you. So do all the other boys in town, single and married. Surely you’re aware of that.”
I’m aware. The question is, why is he aware? And why are we discussing it? I lick my suddenly dry lips and reach up to tuck an errant, unruly lock of curls behind my ear. “Don’t be silly.”
Dallas shoves off the counter, rounds it, takes my hand, and pulls me into the archive room.
He’s never touched me before, so I’m startled and focused on the way he’s threaded his fingers with mine so casually.
The next thing I know, Dallas has kicked the door closed, released my hand, grabbed my hips, and spun me around to flatten me against the door.
I’ve stopped breathing, and I’m dizzy.
He releases my hips and plants his huge hands on either side of my head, hovering in my personal space, an inch separating us. “How many of those local boys have been successful, Arianna?”
I suck in a breath and glance up at his face for a second before jerking my gaze to his chest. His expression is far too intense.
His voice is softer when he speaks again. “Answer me, baby.”
My mouth is so dry. “Wh-what?”
“How many Dougs have you slept with, Arianna?”
I finally realize what he’s asking and gasp. “None.” I immediately wish I hadn’t answered that question. It’s none of his damn business.
He releases an odd breath of relief. “Good. I won’t have to stare daggers at every man and boy in town for the rest of my life.”
What is he talking about?
“Look at me, baby,” he demands.
I can’t stop myself from tipping my head back to meet his gaze again.
He gives me a slow, cocky smile. “Good girl.” His hand comes to my face, and his thumb gently strokes over my bottom lip. “Those boys aren’t good enough for you. You need a real man. Someone who can show you what it means to be cherished.”
I don’t blink. I can’t breathe.
“You’re mine, baby.”