Reaper's Property Read Online Free PDF

waiting inside I wouldn’t exactly have time to
call for help. I debated getting back in my car and driving away, but part of
me wondered if Horse had come back. You know which part—that little nub between
my legs, the bitch. The door swung open at a touch and I found Horse sitting at
my counter, texting, all muscular and tattooed and incredibly hot.
    I opened my mouth then snapped it shut.
    “You need to get better locks,” Horse said
casually. “It took me about ten seconds to get in here.”
    I shook my head, looking around the room,
although I had no idea what I was looking for. Some kind of magical leprechaun
to jump out and explain what the hell was going on?
    “I’m here to see Jeff,” he said, setting
down his phone. “He’s got something for me. Where is he?”
    “He’s off with some girl,” I replied, still
dazed. “Her name is Krissy, he said he’d be late. I’ll try calling him.”
    He watched as I dialed Jeff. Straight to
voicemail. I sent a text, hoping he was just busy and didn’t want to answer.
More nothing. I looked at Horse and shrugged.
    “I don’t think his phone is on,” I said. “I
can let him know you came by though.”
    Horse gave a short, harsh laugh that had
nothing to do with humor.
    “I rode three and a half hours to see him,”
he replied. “He knew I was coming.”
    I smiled weakly.
    “Um, you know he’s a great guy, but he
smokes out a lot and can be kind of forgetful…”
    Horse narrowed his eyes.
    “I’ll wait.”
    I didn’t know how to deal with that, so I
decided to put away the ice cream. Then my stomach growled audibly. I’d planned
on eating a sandwich, but it felt weird not to offer him something.
    “You want an omelet?” I asked, figuring
everyone loves breakfast for dinner.
    “Sounds good,” he replied. “Beer?”
    “Um, yeah,” I said, opening the fridge. I
was kind of surprised he hadn’t just helped himself, considering he’d already
broken into the place. I handed him a bottle and started on the omelet. I’d
made some cinnamon rolls last week and froze half of them, so I pulled those
out too, along with a frozen thing of orange juice concentrate.
    I glanced up to watch him taking a long
pull on his bottle, eyes following me, throat muscles working as he swallowed.
I could lick right from that little dip at the base of his throat up to his
jawline…
    Maybe not juice, I decided. Now I needed a beer.
    Horse just watched me as I cooked, not
saying anything, which creeped me out and turned me on at the same time.
    “What kind of work are you guys doing with
Jeff?” I asked.
    “That’s club business,” he replied. “Don’t
ask questions like that, you’ll get yourself in trouble.”
    Noted. So much for conversation.
    The omelet was done and I’d microwaved the
rolls, so I dished up for both of us, thinking of my movie wistfully. I didn’t
get to watch movies very often and it wasn’t like I’d invited Horse over. But I
had the feeling he might not be quite as into Johnny Depp as me. Should I bring
it up? He decided for me, sitting down on the couch and grabbing the remote.
    “You coming?”
    “Um, yeah,” I replied, following him into
the living room. I planned on taking the armchair, but he patted the couch next
to him with an air of challenge.
    Never could resist a challenge.
    He clicked through channels, stopping on
another one of those fights with the big cage. I sighed and decided I wouldn’t
share my ice cream with him.
    “You don’t like MMA?” he asked, taking a
bite of his cinnamon roll.
    “Not really,” I replied, leaning back into
the cushions.
    He nodded.
    “Lotta chicks don’t,” he replied. “But a
lot do. All those sweaty bodies, you know?”
    He glanced over at me, the slightest trace
of humor in his eyes, and I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or not. I
decided to just go to my room and eat there, but he reached out a hand to catch
my arm, stopping me.
    “What’s the problem?”
    “I’m tired,”