“Come to pick out a book?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. Damian wasn’t a reader, which he liked to avidly proclaim. He just showed up here to bother me.
He let out a hearty laugh, loud enough that a few patrons glanced our way, and I drew on every withering ounce of patience I could.
“You weren’t home until late yesterday,” he said, his hands on his hips. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
The downside of living in the same apartment complex as Damian was that I didn’t feel like I could escape him—apart from moving to a new place. He found every excuse to “run into me,” which annoyed the ever-loving hell out of me. But the rent was the right price, and a librarian’s salary didn’t leave me flush with cash.
“You know, I bet a dozen other people would love this level of attention,” I started.
“Except it’s all going to you,” he said, a smug grin on his face. “Guess that makes you lucky.”
“Mm,” I responded, edging closer to the stacks of books as though they might leap off the shelves and attack him. He did seem allergic to education. “Lucky isn’t the word I’d use. You’ve clearly seen that I’m fine. Is there something else you need?”
“Would you go to dinner with me tonight?” he asked, leaning against the shelf and blocking my way. I heaved a sigh, irritationpercolating through my veins. Better to focus on that than the rising fear from the thought of what I’d face when I approached the Spires tonight.
“No,” I responded, a word he’d gotten from me dozens of times by now. “I’m not interested in dating.”
“I’ll change your mind.” He flashed me a smarmy grin, and my shoulders tightened. While I wasn’t waifish, and I did have some muscle to me, he could probably still best me in a fight. And that attitude was goddamn dangerous.
“My mind is made up,” I responded cooly, even though my temper simmered. “I think Amanda in the apartment a few down is interested, though.”
“Amanda’s not my type,” he said. “She’s a four, and I’m a ten.”
“Charming,” I responded, holding back my disdain by a thread.
“You should understand,” he said. “Someone as gorgeous as you wouldn’t date anyone ugly, would you?”
“Looks aren’t what draws me to a guy,” I responded, my hackles up. “There are so many other factors to consider.”
Qualities Damian didn’t have—kindness, empathy, and intellect.
“I think you’ll eventually understand,” he said. “Though I won’t be waiting forever.”
“Well, that’s good,” I responded, unable to restrain the bite in my tone.
“I’ll see you around, Beau,” Damian said, ignoring my comment, and irritation roiled in me right now, so I offered only a nod in return. Not like he listened when I spoke anyway. Then he sauntered out of the library as quickly as he’d showed up, and Laura sidled over, her ponytail swinging.
“So, are you guys going out?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows. Laura was a sweetheart, truly, but her taste in men was horrific. Case in point, she thought Damian was a catch.
“The answer continues to be no,” I said as she walked with me over to the cart I’d abandoned in the children’s section, where I continued reshelving the books.
“You have impossible standards,” she said. “When’s the last time you went on a date?”
“A while ago.” My chest shriveled a little. Was kindness too much to ask for? I hated the emptiness of my apartment, but I used to go on more dates before the whole process just wearied me. Dating someone who made me feel worthless or small didn’t seem worthwhile, and the guys on Prowlr were only interested in hooking up. I needed…more.
My fantasies weren’t filthy, but they required one element a hookup didn’t have—trust.
“That’s my whole point, though. Would it hurt to give Damian a chance? He’s made it clear he’s interested in you, and he’s gorgeous,” Laura cajoled.
“You can have him,” I said, gesturing toward the door he’d swept out of. This library was stunning, with its detailed crown molding and vaulted ceilings, and I adored the place so much. The thousands of stories contained throughout the stacks made me giddy on a normal day. “I’ve got books in the meanwhile.”
Linda’s eyes crinkled. “Did you read the latest Grimaldi?”
“Yes, and I adored it,” I shared, finishing up with my cart. We strode toward the circulation desk, since someone now waited there. “I hope she keeps writing forever.”
“She’s a demon, and they are known for having a longer life, so at least we’ll get her stories for a while.” Laura slipped behind the circulation desk and faced the patron. “What can I do for you?”
I tuned out the chatter as I got the next cart of returned books in order, getting them ready for reshelving.
