Shifter by Jennifer Reynolds Read Free Book Online

Spidey-sense is tingling. And her boobs are awesome.

     
     
    Chapter 5
     
     
    ~~~Abby~~~
     
     
    I am a woman who lives alone, which means before I even place a hand on the doorknob, I look through the peephole to see who is on my doorstep. The person I see through the hole is a man. A man I don’t recognize. His appearance is slightly skewed by the tiny hole, but I can see he is a big man with a stern look. I slide the chain on the door, pull my cell phone from my pocket, and open the door as wide as it will go, which isn’t far because of the chain.
    “Yes,” is all I am able to say. The man before me is big, not just tall but thick from head to toe. He doesn’t look like one of those creepy power lifter guys you see on sport channels all oiled up and posing for photos in their Speedos. He looks like a guy who spends all of his time outdoors cutting down trees with his bare hands. His hair is dark auburn and nearly shoulder length. His eyes are almost the same color as his hair, and he has a day’s growth of hair on his face. He is absolutely delectable.
    I can’t bring myself to say anything else. I just look at him, becoming all too aware of my t-shirt and sweat pants, and thanking God I had put on a bra this morning, not that it mattered. A guy like him wouldn’t even contemplate looking at someone like me. That thought makes me even more self-conscious. I feel my face heat. In that moment, I hate every part of my body. I hate myself.
    I had been beautiful once. I’m five six, and not too many years ago, I had the perfect body for my size. Now, all I can think about is how many pounds overweight I am. How before too much longer my stomach is going to stick out farther than my breasts. How I can see the beginning stages of a double chin. Yep, if he doesn’t leave soon I’m going to cry.
    I hate men like him. Insanely gorgeous people like him keep me in the house. I don’t want to look at them, and they sure as hell don’t want to look at me.
    He starts to open his mouth to say something, but before he can, my new cat leaps from my arms and right into his. My cat latches onto the man with all four sets of claws, clinging to him as if he has been living in hell for the last month and this man has come to save him.
    “Son-of-a…” the man says, staggering backwards a step or two, looking down at his chest in horror.
    “I’m so sorry.” I gape at his chest and the cat dangling from him for a second before jerking the chain off the latch, pulling the door wide, and reaching out to try to remove my cat.
    “You aren’t allergic, are you?” I ask, trying to get the cat free without ripping the man’s shirt.
    “No, but…” he starts, then cringes as my cat digs his claws in deeper. “I hope he has had all of his shots because I think he just drew blood.”
    “Damn it. And yes, he has. Just stand still, and I will get him off.”
    Carefully, I remove my cat’s claws from the man’s shirt and carry him back inside the house. I briefly contemplate sitting him down on the sofa or something, but then decide shutting him up in the bathroom would be better, safer, in case he decides to attack the man again.
    “Give me one second to lock him up,” I say, taking my new cat to the bathroom and closing the door on him, not realizing that I’ve left the front door wide open. For a second, panic sweeps over me, but when I turn to see that the man is still standing in my doorway, I breathe a sigh relief.
    My cat makes the most God-awful noise as I walk away from the bathroom, and for a second I feel guiltier than I should for locking him up, but I can’t have him attacking strangers. Someone will press charges. I know they put down dogs who attack people. I’m not sure about cats.
    “I am sorry about that. We don’t get very many visitors, obviously. I haven’t had him for very long either. Someone left him on the doorstep of the shelter. I don’t know what his old life was like, but he just mopes