Burn (L.A. Untamed #2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

can’t help but stare as he moves to the gym mat and starts doing squats, every thigh muscle rippling under his shorts. He still hasn’t acknowledged me. It’s like I’m not even here. I’m not sure if I should walk away or take my chances.
    What the hell? What do I have to lose?
    He’s deep in a squat when I finally pipe up. “So what’s this about you having to move your house?”
    He doesn’t reply to me, but continues with his count and after what feels like forever he rises to his full standing height. He finally looks at me with a steady gaze.
    “Why?”
    I shrug. “I’m curious.”
    “The owners of the land sold it to developers, after telling me they weren’t going to sell it for a couple of years.”
    “That blows.”
    He nods, then lowers himself to the mat and starts doing sit-ups. I wait patiently for him to finish but damn, he does a lot of them. No wonder his stomach is flat as a board. I imagine he thinks I should leave him alone to work out, but he doesn’t say anything, just keeps at it and I’m pretty persistent when I want something.
    “So what kind of house is it that you can move it around? Like one of those mobile homes with metal siding?”
    “You sure have a lot of questions. Why aren’t you working out? We have a training meeting after this.”
    I shrug. “Couldn’t sleep, so I hit the gym before breakfast.”
    Falling silent, he starts up with the sit-ups again.
    “So don’t those mobile homes have to be taken apart to move?”
    He groans and rolls over and rises up on his knees. I suspect I’m irritating him.
    “No, mine is built on a trailer bed so it can be towed. It’s a wood structure.”
    I try to picture what such a house would look like while he drops and does push-ups. Jesus, his arms are so cut. I imagine running my fingers over the hard curves of his shoulders. It’s hypnotizing watching the muscles in his arms bulge and flex. His face is starting to get flushed but he doesn’t appear to be sweating.
    Before I start thinking inappropriate thoughts I try to focus back on his house. Suddenly, I remember a HGTV show I saw at my parents’. “Wait a minute! You have a tiny house?” I ask excitedly.
    He scowls. “I hate that term. Don’t call it that.”
    I can feel my eyes grow wide . . . a giant man in a tiny house. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing or saying something snarky. The situation makes me think of the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales Ma used to read to us when we were little. They were full of tiny people, giants, fairies, and witches. They freaked me out, but the idea of tall Joe in a tiny house makes me happy.
    He stretches his arms over his head, which gives me a peek of a sliver of skin from his washboard stomach. “Anything else you want to know?”
    I’m sitting on the edge of the picnic bench, swinging my legs.
    “Nope, that’s about it.”
    He shakes his head, picks up his towel, and wipes his face down.
    “The thing is . . . I was just thinking that I could help you out. It’s not a long term solution but it would buy you some time.”
    He pulls the towel down, his expression somewhere between confused and curious.
    “My house is on a double lot in Valley Village, just north of Studio City.”
    He stares at me without saying a word. It makes me nervous so I just continue on; for all I know I’m babbling like a crazy person. This man unnerves me.
    “Mike, also known as Dickwad, my soon-to-be-ex-husband, had the idea of building rental units to the side the property but the zoning wouldn’t allow it.”
    He narrows his eyes and scrunches up his face. I guess this is too much information about my ex.
    “So I was thinking you could park your tiny house on the empty part of the lot. Of course, just as long as you need it before you find where you really want to be. You wouldn’t owe me anything . . . I mean, you wouldn’t have to pay me or do stuff.”
    “Do stuff?” he mumbles with a wary look.
    “Nope. I promise,”