CHAPTER 5
Paige
The one good piece of advice my mom gave me concerning men is that their egos are huge yet fragile and it takes the delicate, yet strong touch of a woman to handle them.
Leave it to a man I know only by reputation to drive that point home.
Dallas sits in my office, an ice pack on his lip and the back of his head. To be nice, and since it was my fault he’s in pain in the first place, I’m holding the one on his head, so he can have at least one hand free.
“Sorry,” I say for what has to be the tenth time in the past twenty minutes. “I didn’t get to explain myself before, but I wasn’t laughing at you…well, it was at you, but not your pain. Pain is not funny. When I fell out of a tree and broke my wrist at the growth plate, I laughed the whole way to the emergency room because that’s the only way I could deal with the pain. Finley didn’t order me to stop either.”
Dallas glances at me, his normally warm eyes icy. “Not sure how that helps.”
“Hopefully, it lets you know that I’m not laughing all willy-nilly.”
“Willy-nilly,” he mutters. “Who says willy-nilly?”
“I do, and to be honest, you’re not that soft. It actually hurt to fall on you.”
He arches a brow. “You weren’t exactly a pile of feathers.”
“Yeah… that’s not helping either.” I take the ice pack away and gently inspect the back of his head. “There’s a tiny,” he hisses, “bump here, but um, I’m sure if you go to the doctor that you’ll get fixed up in time for your next game.”
“You do realize that if I have a concussion, I can’t play this week.”
Slowly, I shake my head. “I didn’t know that.” Now I feel even worse for freaking out when I fell off the ladder. The dang thing is only three feet off the ground. I wasn’t falling to my death or into a pit of snakes.
I shiver.
Pushing away the thoughts of snakes and pits, I focus on Dallas. Although, I plan on making it up to him, I do need to say something about his sneaky ways.
“This could have been avoided altogether if you hadn’t sneaked up on me.”
His jaw works. “I spoke to let you know I was there, so I wasn’t sneaking up on you.”
This time, I’m the one arching a brow. “Next time, do you mind waiting until you’re standing on the ladder with me, or I don’t know… wait until I’m done with said ladder before scaring me to death?”
Dallas tosses the ice pack on my desk. “I guess you have a point.”
He’s agreeing with me? From my Google snooping, or Snoogling as I like to call it, everything about Dallas screams he is a cocky, confident man who has been known to argue with a referee a time or two. Then again, according to the article I read, Dallas argued with the ref over not throwing a flag for unnecessary roughness due to a player being tackled after the whistle was blown. That kind of behavior, the other player’s, I mean, is considered very poor sportsmanship and worth some sort of penalization.
So maybe he was right to argue… and maybe I’m wrong to assume the worst about him. Even Finley says he’s not that bad, which for her is practically an endorsement.
But not for us to date—I’m not that stupid.
Or am I…?
“Is there any way I can make it up to you?” I ask. Yes, that is a hopeful tone in my voice. I do want to go out with him, try something new, and see what happens. Besides, it’s not like he’s going to ask me out again. That ship has sailed based on his grumpiness.
“Have drinks with me tonight at 451,” he says.
The ice pack I’m holding plops onto his head, and he grunts. “Sorry. Dang it.” I grab the pack and toss it onto my desk, where it slides precariously close to the edge. “Yes, I’d love to have drinks with you. My treat, of course, since I’m the cause of your injury and… you can send me any outstanding bills.”
“Why would I do that? You didn’t make me try to save you, and I sure as hell could have finessed my approach better.”
“Drinks only, then?”
“Appetizers, too. My treat.” His infamous grin curves his lips. “Don’t want you to think I’m trying to take advantage of you due to an empty stomach.”
So smooth. I eye him. “You might want to get your head looked at first because I’m pretty sure that alcohol and concussions don’t play nice together.”
He salutes me. “Will do.”
I fist my hands on my hips. “Did you come by here to see me, or to see the event space?”
He bites the unbruised side of his lip. “Would it bother you if I said both?”
My stomach flips at his answer. “No. I like honesty.”
“Then you’re going to love this,” he says with a serious look in his eyes that is in direct opposition of his tone, “because I need you to help me win a bet so a fellow teammate can get some mentoring.”
Intrigued, I reach across my desk and drag my office chair around. The floor is smooth and the feet have wheels, so it’s relatively easy to do. Plus, I’m pretty sure Dallas is checking out my ass right now and I kind of like it.
Plopping down, I cross my legs and lean forward. “Tell me.”
“You might not like it.”
“Do we have to kill anyone?”
His brows shoot up to his hairline. “No, but it’s kind of scary and insulting that you’d go there first.”
“Had to be asked.” I shrug. “Does it involve snakes… or pits?”
“No animals or holes in the ground.”
Oh, thank God. “Do we have to rob a bank?”
He stares at me for a beat before saying, “We don’t have to do anything illegal.”
“Gotcha.” I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth and wink. Why? Because I’m a dork, that’s why. “Do we have to clean a house or a car… cook dinner… find a book or a ring to rule them all? Wear matching t-shirts?”
“Dinner is on the menu, but the rest… no.” He shakes his head, as if he’s trying to clear it of my suggestive questions. “I need to go out with a nice girl so my teammate can get mentoring from our quarterback.”
My stomach drops to the floor. Well, I did say I like honesty. “Is that why you asked me out the first time?”
“Hell no.” He sounds so offended I can’t help but believe him. “I asked you out because I liked the way those pink stickers looked on your tits and the fact you allowed a complete stranger to talk you into being cuffed. Seemed at odds with your blushes and conservative outfit, which meant you were… are the perfect naughty librarian for me.”
My eyes widen and my mouth falls open, then I start laughing. I can’t help it. It’s my nervous reaction go-to. “I did ask.” I exhale. “Okay, so we got that out of the way. What makes you think I’d help you?”
That cocky grin of his returns in full force. “Because you’re interested, no matter what your sister says about dating a guy like me.”
“Who told you I was Finley’s sister?” I ask, perplexed.
“Sam Riley.”
“Who?”
“He’s the guy who needs my—our help.”
“No clue who he is.”
Dallas fixes his green gaze on me. “He sure knew who you were—light hair, blue eyes, and a nice smile.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet of him.”
“Yeah, he’s a real peach,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his tone.
I tap my chin. “Maybe he saw a picture of us in Finley’s office. Last year on Mother’s Day, I gave her a framed picture of us. It has the word sisters etched at the top.”
“That makes sense. Sam’s a pretty observant guy.”
“You’re not? Because if I recall correctly, you were the one to find my missing stickers.”
“They were in my favorite spots.” He winks at me, and my face gets all hot. “Anyway, I avoid your sister’s office at all costs. To be called in is like getting sent to the principal’s office. No offense.”
“None taken.” I can’t deny that my sister is a stickler for the rules and has almost unattainable standards. “Why does Sam need mentoring from your team’s quarterback?”
“He’s second string and needs the field time. Aiden won’t admit it, but I’m pretty damn sure he’s close to retiring.”
“He wants to leave at the top of his game,” I muse. “He’s always been like that.”
Dallas’ brows crash together. “You know him?”
“Since I was thirteen.”
“More context please.”
“Aiden’s from my hometown. He and Finley dated in college,” I explain. “They both majored in Sports Management, and they broke up their sophomore year. It’s old news, which is probably why you didn’t know. Most people don’t. Might be in his management contract to never mention it. Let’s just say it wasn’t the best of breakups and the saga continues.”
“Damn,” he mutters, then raises his voice. “Is that why she’d have my balls if we were to date?”
I tilt my head to one side. “That’s part of it.”
“And the other?”
For the first time since I met him, memories of my childhood that I’d rather stay buried attempt to force their way to the surface. “That’s not something I’m comfortable sharing.”
He holds up his hands. “Fair enough. About tonight. Can I pick you up right after work?”
“How about I meet you there? I need to go home, shower, change, and check for splinters. Plus, the floors are disgusting if you think about it. Everyone walking on them, dragging in whatever’s on the street.”
“Did you just read that?”
I make a grand gesture to the library and then tap the side of my head. “Those books and this brain aren’t just for show, fella.”
“You’re adorable,” he says, taking me aback. “What did I say wrong?”
“Nothing.” My cheeks heat, and I cover them with my hands. “It’s um… well, I’m quirky, not adorable. Adorable describes cheerleaders and puppies… and my best friend, Layton, who is neither a cheerleader or a puppy.”
“Guys dig quirky. It’s the new sexy.”
Time for more honesty.
If Dallas truly wants my help because he’s attracted to me, then he needs to know exactly what he’s in for. I don’t hop into bed easily at all. “The last guy I went out with called me a certifiable nut job, but I’m pretty sure it was because I wouldn’t blow him on our first date because he paid for dinner… like a gentleman.”
“The fuck?” The good humor drains from the room. “What kind of asshole… never mind.” He cracks his knuckles. “I hope you put him in his place.”
“I told him the correct definition for a gentleman didn’t include the words ‘demands blow jobs in payment for dinner’.” I smile sadly. “It wasn’t my best comeback, but I was caught off-guard.”
“Who wouldn’t be?”
I twist my lips. “You’ve never talked to a girl like that?”
He’s already shaking his head. “My mother would kill me. My dad wouldn’t be so kind.”
“I guess the rumors about you have been greatly exaggerated,” I say with a smile.
“How would you know about the rumors?”
“I Snoogled you.”
“You what me?”
“Snoop and Googled.” I mime pushing the words together. “Snoogled.”
He nods and smiles… and it’s not one of those ‘placate the crazy chick’ smiles either. “I like that. You can Snoogle me anytime you want… or you can get to know the real me in person, direct from the source. That’s what librarians like, right? First editions… rare finds. Consider me both.”
In that moment, I fall a little in love with Dallas Drake for not making fun of me. “I’ll do it.”
“You’ll help me help Sam out?”
“Yes, and not just because we don’t have to do anything illegal or with snakes in pits either.” I touch his hand and get almost giddy when my skin starts to tingle. “It’s because you have really hot forearms and tried to catch me when I fell.”
“Yeah, I do,” he agrees. “But I didn’t try. I did catch you.”
He leans in closer to me, closing the distance between us.
My pulse pounds.
My skin gets hot.
I lick my lips, wanting to kiss him.
Even more, I want him to kiss me.
The door opens.
“Mr. Drake. So glad you could stop by. I’m Layton Price, events manager for the library.”
I jerk back, sending my chair careening across the room. Layton stops it by grabbing the arm before I crash into the wall. Today is so not my day with office furniture.
“We have tricky office chairs,” she explains, trying to make it look like it’s totally the chair’s fault instead of mine.
“Pretty sure my foot slipped and I accidentally kicked it,” he replies, and I want to swoon. He’s taking the blame. “Sorry about that, Paige.”
“It’s okay.” Who am I to disagree?
He gives me another heart-stopping smile before focusing on Layton. “Nice to meet you.”
“You as well.” Layton gives him a sunny smile. “If you don’t mind, Paige, I’m going to give Mr. Drake a tour of the third floor and see if our space works for his event.”
This is the moment I’ve been dreading. It’s the moment I’m always dreading.
Nine times out of ten, when a guy I’m interested in finally meets Layton—with her perfect curves, poise, clothes, and wavy dark hair—they don’t seem to care she has a steady boyfriend or now wears a diamond engagement ring so big it can be seen from Pluto without a telescope. There’s just something about her they can’t resist and everything about me that is… forgettable.
The only consolation is that Layton is oblivious. Instead, she talks me up, like a best friend should, and trots me out almost like a show pony. I’ve never told her that I notice. Because she’s such a kind person and a true friend, it will always be a secret I keep from her.
“Will you help give me a tour, Paige?” he asks, not even looking her way. He’s not Mr. Wickham from Pride and Prejudice. He’s a total… well, I can’t think of a literary boyfriend who plays football and is completely into the girl no one else is.
I sigh a little. This has to be the most romantic moment ever—possible concussion and all.
Layton glances at me. “Do you have time?” She turns her attention back to Dallas. “Paige’s services are requested so often that I don’t know how she does it all.”
I have to fight the urge to hug her, kiss him, and dance around the room. It’s a lot harder than you think. “At the moment, I’m completely free.”