Page 4 of Scorched

One of her eyes opened. They were startlingly green.

She had gotten lucky in the looks department.

And then she screamed.

Her lungs were strong, too.

She yanked the headphones out of her ears and leapt to her feet, covering her breasts with both arms. “What the hell! Fucking pervert! Get out of here!”

I held my hands up to defend myself. “Ma’am, please, just let me—”

“How did you even get in here?” she shouted. “I’m calling the cops!”

She pulled her headphone cords, twisting them and drawing her swinging phone up toward her hand.

“Ma’am,” I repeated. “I’m here to clean the pool.”

The anger disappeared from her face.

But she was still shaking.

She held the phone in one hand, the other covering a nipple.

“Then clean it!” She turned on her heel and stormed into the house.

I sighed heavily.

She was definitely gorgeous, but kind of a bitch.

I watched her leave, shaking my head.

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