Bad Boys for Hire: Ryker (Bad Boys for Hire #1) Read Free Page A

friends melted away from her side and headed back to the restaurant.

Chapter Four
    R yker lowered his sunglasses and glared across the street at the entitled female who’d come out of the restaurant with her posse to confront him for panhandling. It was a stroke of good luck that a truck had driven so slowly through the intersection, giving him ample time to cross the street.
    He would have let it go, in fact, he should let it go, but the woman, and that was a charitable term for the way he was feeling, had told him to get a job and pay taxes.
    And now, she was standing there with her mouth wide open as if she was shocked he hadn’t turned tail and run.
    Either that, or his fly was down.
    Ryker wasn’t going to take his eyes off her to check, so he tucked the can and sign under one arm and ran a finger over his zipper. It wasn’t open, so she had no reason to continue staring at him.
    Against his better judgment, he set his can and sign on the sidewalk and jogged across the street like a missile locked onto its target.
    She wasn’t a bad looking woman. In fact, the closer he got, the more he liked what he saw. Curvy and tall, she wore her blond hair straight and parted to one side. She had on a greenish-blue cowl-necked sweater that accentuated her shapely boobs, and despite her fuller figure, her waist narrowed enough to give her an hourglass shape.
    Her sapphire blue eyes widened as he closed in, and her mouth opened into an oval surrounded by tart pink lips that he would have been tempted to lick had she not insulted him.
    “How do you know I’m not looking for a job?” He lowered his voice to a growl. “What gives you the right to judge me? Do you know me? Do you know what I’ve done? Where I’ve been?”
    “I, uh …” The woman swallowed and lost her slack-jawed look. “Just think you should work for a change. Able-bodied man like yourself.”
    Her curious eyes took the opportunity to tour Ryker’s body, lingering at a few obvious bulges—biceps, pectorals, for starters, before returning to his face.
    Right, she was checking out the goods while reserving the right to judge. He wanted to rip her a new one: to tell her to get her privileged ass out of her comfy McMansion, to volunteer at a soup kitchen or visit an orphanage in Afghanistan. But then, he would be just as bad as her—judging without knowing her.
    “I’m Ryker Slade. I would love to work. If you have a job for me, I’ll be glad to take it. I’m not picky. I’ll do anything except stand guard.”
    “You have a criminal record?” The woman’s eyes narrowed in an assessing manner. She struck him as a no nonsense type, and there was no point lying to her.
    “Charged with unlawful sexual intercourse when I was seventeen with a girl my own age, but my record’s been wiped clean and I served in the Marines with no infractions. I was injured in my last tour of duty. Here I am, ready for whatever job you have in mind.”
    The buxom blonde’s lips curved upward as if amused. “Unlawful sexual intercourse, you say? Guess that wouldn’t disqualify you from arranging flowers.”
    “Arranging what?” Ryker jerked his head back, not sure if he’d heard her correctly.
    “Flowers, I’m a florist.” The woman held her hand out to shake. “Name’s Terri Martin, owner of Love Me Flowers, you know that love me, love me not thing they do with daisies?”
    “Actually I don’t.” He took her hand, surprised to find it warm and cozy. “Nice to meet you, Terri, er, Miss Martin. Does this mean I’m hired?”
    “On a temporary basis,” Terri replied. “And you can call me Terri. I have a guy who does deliveries and an assistant, but we had a rash of funerals lately, and I need an extra pair of hands.”
    “Great. What’s the pay?”
    Ryker let his hand linger too long, because Terri withdrew her fingers and frowned. “Minimum wage. Or do you make more per hour panhandling?”
    He’d like to wipe that scowl off her pretty face, but she