Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
I step back and blow out a breath of frustration. At least I’m doing something. The strain in my back and the burn in my arms feel good. It feels like real work. After a month of sitting around, I should be thanking the cupboards for the extra workout.
I’m about to retrieve the pry bar I’ve been using when a hard pounding at the door stops me in my tracks. I turn, puzzled, to glance over my shoulder. It is three in the morning. I’m not wrong on that. It’s still the middle of the night.
So why on earth is someone pounding at the door like a rabid cow broke loose and is rampaging through suburbia?
I palm the pry bar just in case. You never know who could be standing out there in the middle of the night. It’s not normal. My heart beats a little harder, and my palm grows damp around the tool I’m clutching when I make it to the door. The thing doesn’t have a peephole. What if it’s some reporter out there? Someone with a microphone and camera at the ready.
Surprise, we found you.
Maybe it’s best to put down the pry bar. That way, I won’t be tempted to use it.
The pounding doesn’t let up, and I don’t set anything down. Instead, I slide back the two deadbolts and throw open the door.
Of all the people out there, it’s my neighbor. Lu-Anne.
She literally tumbles headlong through the open space but catches herself just before she can bowl me over. She straightens, her cheeks on fire, and clears her throat roughly.
“Please help me. It’s an emergency!”
The hair on the back of my arms stands. I have a plain black t-shirt on, which is pretty sweat-soaked, and my usual black jeans. I don’t know what I smell like at the moment, but it sure as shit isn’t a fresh, sweet daisy. Lu-Anne doesn’t seem to notice. Her eyes dart around the room, stopping on the plastic before they rush back to my face. They’re huge, dark pools of panic and terror.
“What is it? Come in. I’ll call the cops.”
“N-no…” She swallows hard and breathes in even harder. She’s obviously trying to steady herself. “It’s not that kind of an emergency,” she finally says on another rough exhale. “There’s a spider. It’s in my bed. I need you to come over and kill it. Or find it and trap it. Please. It’s huge. I tried to do it myself, but it attacked me.”
I actually have to step back to take this all in. I glance at her wild eyes, mussed mahogany hair, and parted lips. Her face is ashen, so the color riding on her cheekbones is even more noticeable. And even more beautiful. Her throat bobs with hard swallows, but my eyes don’t stop there. Lu-Anne is wearing a tiny black camisole, which is lowcut with lace edging around the top. It ends right before a set of even shorter black shorts with lace trimming along where the hem starts, leaving a gap of pale, exposed midriff. Her legs are gorgeous and shapely. Long. Unending.
I finally get to see what she looks like from the shoulder down.
And it’s every bit as gorgeous as I imagined, which makes me take another step back and angle to the side a little to hide the growing excitement becoming very obvious in my jeans. Now it’s my turn to clear my throat. Thank god Lu-Anne is so flustered, she doesn’t look down.
“Let me get this straight…” I brush a hand over my dark hair. It’s normally shorter than this, but it’s grown out, and I haven’t gone for a haircut. Obviously. My hand comes away with bits of debris from the cupboard, and my hair is damp to the touch. “You came over here screaming bloody murder because there’s a spider in your house?”
“A big one,” she snorts indignantly. She crosses her arms over her chest, which pushes up her pert breasts. She’s not wearing a bra, and the shape of her nipples is clearly visible now.
I glance away quickly, but not before my balls jump all the way from south of the border straight up into the back of my throat.
“You pounded on my door like the spider was an ax-wielding maniac.”
“Yes! Because it’s bad. The thing is huge! And it launched itself at me! I don’t have the skills to deal with this. I’m afraid of them, and I tried to do the nice thing and let it live, but I–I just—it attacked me!”
“I highly doubt it,” I say dryly. “I think you’re overreacting. You need to calm down. Don’t go pounding on people’s doors like your place is burning to the ground, and you barely escaped with your life.”
“It might as well be!” She insists. She stares me down. I stare back. She stares harder. I don’t move. She keeps staring. Finally, she lets out an exasperated cry. “Why are you just standing there?!”