I narrow my eyes at him. “Replacement for what?”
“To run your company in San Antonio. You’re never leaving here.”
I shake my head. “Not a chance. I like my job. I’m not moving to Fucking Nowhere, Arizona, for ten years, no matter how much the payout is. I make plenty of money running my business. I’m comfortable. Happy.”
“And alone. You’re forty-five years old. Don’t you want to settle down and make babies?”
I stare at him. To be honest, I’ve never thought about having kids or settling down. I’ve been working eighteen hours a day for as long as I can remember, never taking my business for granted. Being successful is all I’ve cared about for a long time.
Dating? Ha. It’s been a long time since I went on a date, let alone had a girlfriend.
However, as much as I like to rib my brother and cousins about the absurd speed at which they’ve each snatched up a woman and dragged her to the altar, I’ll admit, seeing each of them happy has made me jealous. I’m reminded that there is more to life than just working.
Watching my cousins and brother dote on their women has put things into perspective. The excitement they all feel about starting a family is infectious. I’ve found myself wondering if I should slow the fuck down, find someone to warm my bed, and possibly reproduce. It’s tempting. Not tempting enough for me to move here, but there are women in San Antonio.
Why am I so enamored by one tiny redhead who shot daggers at me?
Immersing myself in the town blueprints, I take notes on which buildings need immediate attention and totally lose track of time. Before I know it, female voices are filling the main section of the library. They must have finished their book club.
Should I go out front and irritate Melody? Because I have no doubt that’s what would happen. She’s not very receptive to the idea of knowing me. That might be half the reason why I’m so enamored with her—or the idea of her. It’s the thrill of the chase.
I’m still pondering my next move as the voices cease, and Arianna steps into the small workroom. She’s beaming. “That was so fun!” she exclaims as she throws herself at Dallas.
He picks her up and tucks his hands under her bottom so she can wrap her arms and legs around him. I’m jealous and a bit nauseous watching the two of them play kissy face.
Ignoring the two lovers, I turn my attention back to the blueprint we’ve been staring at and note a few more measurements.
The bell over the door rings. Only a few people came in while the book club was going on, and Dallas checked them out. The man is so whipped that he doesn’t mind playing librarian for his new wife.
“Arianna?”
I bolt upright at the voice coming from the front. It’s her. Melody. She’s back. She sounds exasperated. I don’t like the tone of her voice. My hackles rise.
Before I can round the table, she’s in the doorway. She sets her hands on her hips and sighs.
“What’s wrong?” Dallas asks, beating me to it as he lowers his wife to her feet.
“My fucking car won’t start.”
It’s hard for me to hold in my laughter. Not because of her car, but her language. It’s the first thing I knew about her the day I half met her. She’s obviously got a potty mouth. Sweet little thing like her. It’s so incongruent when she throws out the F-bomb.
I’m not about to let Dallas speak before me yet again. This is my opportunity to get to know her better. I circle the table while saying, “I’ll take a look.”
She hesitates, narrowing her eyes at me. “You think you can do that without fucking chastising me?”
I chuckle. “No. But I can multitask,” I tease.
She hasn’t moved from the doorway, and as soon as I reach her, I instinctively lift my hand to tuck an errant lock of that gorgeous hair behind her ear.
Her breath hitches.
I have no idea what possessed me to touch her so intimately, but I’m not sorry. We stand there staring at each other for long seconds, neither of us moving. The world seems to stop spinning. There’s no sound besides our breathing.
Eventually her lips part, but she still says nothing. Finally, she licks them and breaks the spell. “Do you know anything about cars?”
I shrug. “I might.” I’m no mechanic, but I can change oil or jumpstart. I can also guess what the problem is based on what happens when she turns the key. Not saying I can replace an alternator. But I’ll probably know if that’s what it needs.
I need to touch her again. This time, I pick up a lock of that gorgeous strawberry-blond hair and finger it. She’s wearing a sundress. It’s white with multicolored flowers all over it. The contrast of the white against her pale skin makes her look darker than she is.
