Cinder's Wolf: A Shifter Retelling of Cinderella (A BBW Shifter Fairy Tale Retelling Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

swimming.
    Cynthia had always loved cleaning. It had started after her mother left, and turned into something of an obsession after her father died when she was nineteen. He always said you had to work hard to stay on top. That work ethic had led to the Cinders family being wealthy for generations, his alienation from his first wife, then his daughter… and finally to his early death from a heart attack.
    Cynthia frowned and scrubbed harder, trying not to wallow. She wished Bel were here. While Red had gone off to who knew where after graduation, Bel had dropped out of Kenyon and moved to New York after she sold her YA werebeast novel, Mates of Darkness, to a big publisher for an advance that had made even Cynthia’s jaw unhinge.
    That had been almost seven years ago now, and Bel’s advance had long run out, forcing her to return Crystal Creek, Michigan to live with her dad, leaving Cynthia alone.
    Well, not totally alone. Technically, Cynthia had Reagan—sort of—and of course, her employees at Boxes & Broom. Speaking of, she removed her gloves, washed her hands, and grabbed her phone from the sink.
    Taking a seat on the toilet lid, she flipped through her texts. As today was Saturday, technically her only official day off, she didn’t have to answer them immediately, but she still read them. One was from Emma, her graphic designer. It was about their new social media branding. Another was from Marian, their engineer, detailing database problems in their customer list. Only the last one made her smile.
    Bel.
    Cynthia opened the text message. To her surprise, it was a picture. Of a guy. He was hot, if his weird choice of a half un-done flannel shirt and gym-ripped body was anything to go by. She couldn’t see his face. In true awkward dating profile fashion, the picture cut off at the chin.
    Bel: This is Samson… He’s kind of my boyfriend. Well… sort of.
    Cynthia: Omg. R u dating a lumberjack?
    Bel: You don’t know the half of it.
    Cynthia was halfway through typing a reply when she heard the turning of the key in the lock downstairs and the familiar click of Lucille’s heels on hardwood.
    “Shit.” She scrambled to throw off her yellow gloves, before folding them with origami like precision, placing them in the cabinet and flying down the stairs to the entryway.
    Lucille, Reagan, Christine, and a pile of boxes big enough that Cynthia could only see their eyes entered. Christine swayed dangerously under their weight before she unloaded them on the side table. Lucille and Reagan quickly followed suit.
    Boxes discarded, Lucille’s attention fell on Cynthia. Her botoxed face still managed to retain the ability to narrow her eyes. “Is the house ready?”
    Cynthia nodded. She knew Lucille was sizing up her outfit and finding it wanting. While the yoga pants and jersey cotton blouse was perfect cleaning wear, Lucille had a personal grudge against anything that made one look “Like the help.”
    Reagan frowned at Cynthia, either guilty or experiencing indigestion. With Reagan’s cat-like eyes and curved mouth, it was sometimes hard to tell. Christine, as usual, had already disappeared back up into her room, no doubt trying to squeeze in some practicing before the party.
    “Well,” said Lucille, gesturing out to the house. “Let’s see it then.”
    Cynthia kept from rolling her eyes. Of course Lucille was just going to leave the boxes there. Lucille hadn’t cleaned anything since she married her father.
    Still, Cynthia nodded and trotted off to give them a tour. She started with the kitchen, which the cook had already cleaned. This didn’t stop Lucille from wasting five minutes bending over the parquet floors, searching for any rebel dust bunny that had escaped the purge.
    None had.
    After the kitchen, they went through the basement, the living room, the study, the library, and the poolroom in quick succession. With each room, Lucille got more and more impatient, realizing there was nothing out of place. By