Designated Hitter (Reedsville Roosters Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

she were really as staid as she usually let on. “And what should I do while they’re painting? I can’t just sit around twiddling my thumbs.”
    She pushed up one perfectly arched eyebrow and opened the door. “Most folks would love to sit around, do nothing, and be paid for it.”
    “I’m a cowboy. I gotta be moving.”
    “Okay, cowboy,” she said in a low, sultry tone that made his face hot and his nuts throb.
    Jesus.
    She put her free hand on her hip and stared daringly at him as she sipped coffee.
    Whatever the dare was, he wanted to take it. He didn’t know how any man could tell her no when she sounded like that and looked like that.
    “Really want to get your hands dirty?” she asked.
    “Can’t just stand around looking pretty.”
    “Apparently, some manservants are hired to do exactly that.”
    “True.” Quinn’s roommate, Gary, was one of them. “But give me something to do.” Let me show you I can do something.
    “Okay. I know. You could save me some time and money by pulling up the linoleum in the laundry room. Gotta get the appliances out first, though.” She raised her eyebrows slowly as if expecting him to let her down already.
    He wouldn’t.
    “I’ll figure it out. What else?”
    Brow now furrowed, she sipped her coffee, fixing her chocolate brown gaze on him. She smoothed some errant hairs back behind her ears, and he noticed then her flushed cheeks and nervously flitting hands. It seemed she’d changed her mind just that fast about asking him.
    She’s afraid of me? For fuck’s sake!
    He let out a breath and tried to soften his expression make his stance less aggressive and confrontational. “Come on, Marina. If you’re gonna pay me to do a job, then give me something to do.”
    She let out a ragged exhalation and rolled her gaze up to him. “Okay. Well, there’s shoddy shelving in the closets of two of the smaller bedrooms upstairs.”
    “Yeah?” Lay it on me, honey. Not gonna tell you no yet.
    “Think you can get it out without damaging the drywall?”
    “If I ding, I can patch. I’ll do that first before the painting crew makes it to those rooms.”
    “The last time I asked someone to be careful,” she said softly, “he threw a tantrum. I lost a day from my schedule and two years of my life to a relationship that was going nowhere fast.”
    He whistled low, having no better response to that. Shit.
    “I don’t…want to deal with that, Quinn.”
    “I get it.” Whoever the asshole was who’d screwed her over deserved a punch to the nose. It drove him fucking nuts when people didn’t pull their weight. “Don’t worry about a thing. If you remember anything else, just let me know.”
    “Thank you, Quinn,” she said.
    Then she was gone—her dress’s bouncy skirt swishing behind her as she ran gracefully down the path toward her Beamer.
    She looked like a runner—toned and lithe in her sundress. Lovely and tanned. Some of that shimmering bronze hue had been a gift from her father—the Greek asshole. The rest had been imparted by the sun, and he wondered where her tan lines would be. Top on or off at the beach? Tempting brown nipples or golden ones?
    He scoffed at himself, and pushed off the doorframe.
    One donut, maybe two, and then he had shit to do.
    He wasn’t going to stand around pondering what was beneath Marina Cassavetes’s clothes. As it was, what was visible to the naked eye was far too tantalizing, and he didn’t want her to come back and find that he hadn’t gotten done what he’d promised.
    He could prove he wasn’t a disappointment. He needed someone to believe that, even if he didn’t always believe it himself.
    ___
    Marina found Quinn on all fours facing a corner of the laundry room when she returned to the paint-smelling house, and damned if she didn’t like the sight.
    “That’s a good position for you,” wagged her loose tongue.
    Fuck . She would have thunked her forehead with her palm if she had been able to do it with any