Free Changing Beauty (Book 2) (The Deadly Beauties Live On) by C. M. Owens Page A

pages.
    “I’m cautious about who I spend time with, Roslyn. I’m pretty damn rich, so I have to be careful.”
    Confused, I look up. “You’re rich?” Yeah, that sounds a little more insulting than I meant for it to.
    His eyebrows cock up in surprise. “You sound very shocked by that.”
    My eyes slowly scour the room. Decorations are minimal, the walls are plain, and the house is larger than mine, but nothing particularly astonishing.
    “It’s just… This is a lake community, and a lot of the lake homes are… huge and luxurious. I just assumed—”
    “That I would live on the lake in a big fancy house if I was rich?” he asks, finishing what I was going to say, seeming all too amused. “I have those in other places. I bought this house a while back to help keep an eye on a friend. And I don’t usually get rid of anything that’s mine. Besides, I have one very sexy neighbor that I want to get to see, so I think I’ll stick around.”
    I grin and blush on cue, and then lean back to study him. I’m not sure if he’s rich or not, but I can’t imagine why he’d lie about it. Unless he’s trying to impress me. Money doesn’t impress me.
    “So you read all this about me?” I ask, swallowing hard when I see one thing in the file that makes my skin crawl.
    He looks down at the page I’m on, and he frowns. “That’s one thing I couldn’t get much information on.”
    Shuddering, I close the file and hug myself. “He was one of my foster fathers.”
    Thad’s face grows very serious for the first time since I’ve been in here this morning. This is so not getting-to-know-you conversation material.
    “One of the ones who hurt you?” The hard edge to his tone doesn’t go unnoticed.
    How does he… Oh … The medical records.
    “He was the only one who hurt me. The rest of this”—I gesture toward medical records that tell the tale of my broken bones, deep contusions, and hefty gashes that needed numerous stitches—“is me being clumsy.”
    He doesn’t look convinced. “Jeffrey really was the only abusive one,” I reaffirm. “And had it not been for his hunting accident, I’d have continued to be beaten regularly for crossing any arbitrary line.”
    He leans back, studying the gruesome details of the page as he picks it up and pulls it to his face.
    “Says it was a bear attack. The claw marks were too big to be anything else. I guess that was pretty scary.”
    It was terrifying. Everyone in that small town went hunting for that damn bear. It’s not easy to walk around with everyone carrying a shotgun or rifle, primed and alert. Five men were accidentally shot in the quest for the elusive bear.
    “After the fifth gunshot victim, they declared the bear must have left town, and they told everyone to put their guns away. It was fortunate that all the wounds were mostly superficial. Only one was a serious injury, but it didn’t result in any long-term damage.”
    He lowers the paper, studying me again. “Where were you?”
    “I was having a sleepover the night before—my foster mother was determined to make me socialize with the popular girls from school. He was attacked early that morning. My foster mother woke up twelve sleeping pre-teen girls at five in the morning and told them to call their parents to come get them. She was freaking out, and we had to sit at the police station for hours.” Groaning, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “This is so not the way to get to know each other. Way too heavy for a coffee conversation.”
    He chuckles while leaning back against the wall. “If you ask me, I’d say it’s better to hit the hard stuff right out of the gate. The small-talk shit gets on my nerves. Now it’s your turn to ask a question.”
    Looking back up, my eyes meet his, and he flashes that smile my way. “What do you do for a living?”
    He grins, and I know it’s because my question is mild in comparison to his.
    “Never mind. I want to know about your family,” I say