Just Her Luck

Read Just Her Luck for Free Online Page B

Book: Read Just Her Luck for Free Online
Authors: Jeanette Lynn
moment, huh? We're all adults here," Sawyer soothed, sounding more like a marriage counselor than a peace keeper.
    All he needs now is a pair of big glasses, a pad of paper with pen, and an ugly sweater that no one in their right mind would ever consider wearing in the light of day, and he'd be all set.
    I turned on them then and pointed the beater at them like a broadsword, slicing it through the air.
    Apt name, beater.
    I’m gonna keep this puppy by my bed from now on , I decided as I tested the weight of it out in my hand.
    I sliced it through the air one more time, just for fun, getting a little kick out of it when they all flinched.
    Hah.
    "And you four!” I barked, going back to my current task at hand, “Why didn't anyone inform me that there were five of you? Hmmm?"
    "Uh..." Bowen mumbled, scratching his head.
    "Well..." Thatcher started, but stopped, at a loss as to how to continue.
    "You see..." Sawyer tried, but it seemed really forced, so he gave up and just scratched at his facial hair a moment.
    I waited grimly to see what the ever eloquent Ephraim was going to come up with.
    This should be interesting.
    "Erm..." was all he said.
    Slightly disappointed in my blue-eyed blurter for some odd reason, I gave a little mental shrug.
    Huh, guess not.
    Why couldn't he always talk like that?
    Short and to the point.
    The 'erm' said it all.
    That was all I got out of the four sheepish, fully grown men standing before me.
    "Why doesn't someone tell me what the hell you four were doing taking in degenerates like her into my home for!" Reeve demanded gruffly, glowering collectively at all of them.
    Good god! I'm beginning to put together the secrecy they'd seemed to hoard over me now.
    Who would want to work for him?
    Who would even enter this damn house knowing they'd have to deal with him?
    The man is obviously a crotchety asshole.
    "I am not a pin cushion , you grumpy, belligerent jerk off! I am the replacement for Ruthie Ferguson until you all can find a replacement for me! So don't you go getting all stupid on me or I'll march right out that door and you can fend for yourselves! Right after I finish beating your ass!" I added the last part on a whim, ready for another whack at his smarmy face.
    "You have got to be kidding me?" he barked out on a laugh as he took all of me in- from my numerously pierced ears to my one little facial piercing, then to the tattoo I have that wraps around my ankle and makes a winding path up my leg, leading towards my inner thigh.
    What can I say, I was drunk and I was twenty one . I shrugged inwardly. Youth, alcohol and stupidity make for some pretty interesting outcomes.
    Gave up drinking after that, though.
    "Where did you get her from, Thatcher? Straight off a prison release program?" Asshole smirk firmly in place, he cocked a condescending brow, sending it in my direction as he snickered at me.
    Prison!
    Prison?
    Seriously?
    For a second there, it really did give me pause and I glanced down at myself a little bit, then shrugged.
    Really, dude?
    Nothin' screams previous inmate to me.
    I shook my head.
    He's so full of shit.
    I have no idea what the heck he's going on about.
    Me? A criminal? Or even an ex one?
    How the hell does he figure?
    What? Do I look like I rob gas stations for fun or something?
    I don't even look butch, much less prison-ish, or any other thing that might have given him that stupid impression.
    Hmph.
    There is nothing about me that screams ‘I just got outta the pen’, thank you very much, Mr. Stereotype.
    Not even a little.
    And I will have everyone know right now that I am, and always have been, an upstanding citizen!
    Now I just need to say all that shit out loud...
    He's just hitting below the belt, Vieve, trying to take a low blow, I thought decisively. Don't give him the satisfaction of knowing he's getting to you .
    That little revelation just made me even more agitated.
    "Where did they get you from, the morgue?” I quipped, bouncing back ,-I’m like

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