Free Bending Bethany by Aria Cole Page A

word with people who could really feel a story and understand it, could sense the loss and blip of anxiety that shudders the heart when you close the pages on a favorite book. I wanted people to feel that.
    I liked sharing the fantasy.
    But was this my fantasy? My eyes crawled across the polished woodwork I’d sanded and stained tirelessly through the night to restore when I’d decided to open the place. The Spruce Lake Public Library was my dream come true, but I found myself craving more. I hadn’t been on a date in years. What was the point? It felt like I’d have too much to hide because baring my dark soul would surely send any woman running the other way.
    But sometimes, on the nights that my thoughts overtook me, I dared to hope for someone to share my life with. I dreamed of a girl with eyes that sparkled, a laugh that made me weak in the knees, and a heart so big she could fit mine in it. Someone who could see past the moody, abrasive demeanor, and the thousand quirks that made me a man unlike any other.
    Someone who could see past the scar and into my soul.
    A revelation sliced through my heart. For the first time ever, I wanted to feel love.
    I’d just never found a woman brave enough to love a man like me.
    The sun began its slow descent behind the horizon as I pulled my thoughts away from all the things that were too painful for me to consider before noticing it was officially closing time. I took long strides across the gleaming wood before turning the latch and flipping the sign on the door. Closed. Just a few more tasks and then I could retreat to my sanctuary upstairs for the rest of the night.
    I returned to the circulation desk and gathered a small pile of returned books into my arms before setting off down the aisles to re-shelve them. I turned a corner and growled when I saw that the irresponsible little shits that’d been here earlier had pulled out dozens of titles, reading and giggling in the back corner of my library after school for the sole purpose of my intense irritation, and not returned the books to their proper homes.
    “Damn,” I cursed as a quick rap, rap on the front door sent a bundle of hardbacks crashing to my feet.
    I took my time, lifting the books from the floor and placing them back on the shelf with care—this was a library not a zoo, and I wished all kids under the age of eighteen could be barred from this sacred space. They didn’t have respect for the written word. Not yet. That took time, experience, an appreciation for the blood, sweat, and tears of life.
    Rap, rap, rap.
    I stalked from among the aisles, my eyes steering to the door as fat drops of rain rinsed down the windows, a drowned out creature staring back at me, large brown eyes as wide as saucers as I approached.
    “What the hell?” I murmured as I twisted the heavy latch that I’d locked only two minutes ago, at closing time. “Closed,” I growled on reflex upon opening the door. A meek little creature soaked and in a rush. Her sweet, rain-dampened scent curled around my nostrils as she shuffled into my library. She stripped off her dripping coat and scarf, hanging it on the small rack just inside the door before running one hand through dark, tangled locks and sending a new burst of her scent into my nostrils. My eyes closed for a moment as I soaked it up, my thighs tightening and cock flexing with increased arousal.
    “I’m here for the job.” She thrust a folded application at me. My dick pounded in my pants, begging for release. Take her. Own her. Eat. Feed. Bite. Devour.
    “You’re late. We’re closed,” I informed her, unsure why I was being so abrasive to such a sweet, doe-eyed little thing.
    “Sorry, I only just found out about the job. Please? I’m desperate. I’ll do anything you need me to do.” Her voice was surprisingly throaty, like she’d smoked a few cigarettes or spent a wild night screaming through roof-shattering sex.
    Either way, I liked her.
    A lot.
    Her big brown eyes