Fun House (Welcome to the Circus #1) Read Online Lani Lynn Vale

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Welcome to the Circus Series by Lani Lynn Vale
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Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
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“This works,” he growled when he got me to the back of the bus and slammed me up against it.

I giggled.

“Yes,” I agreed. “It does. But…” I looked down at myself. “This is a one-piece. There’s no way in hell I can get this panty part to the side. It’s so tight that sometimes I can’t breathe in it.”

He growled in frustration.

It was so damn cute.

“Oh!” I said as I wiggled in his arms. “The food trailer!”

His eyes lit with curiosity.

“You have a food trailer?” he asked, momentarily distracted.

“I do,” I confirmed. “Well, we do. Come on.”

Stupid leotards. I should’ve changed out of this when he asked me if I planned to.

At the time, I’d been thinking about how annoyed they made me and how I’d had other plans that day—like, you know, working. Which required me not to have loose-fitting clothing, so I’d just thrown a sweatshirt over it.

But seeing the error of my ways now…well, that meant that maybe I should rethink my outfit choices if Coffey planned on being around for long.

Because I could foresee a lot of this in my future.

“This food trailer actually has living quarters for the chef,” I said, explaining. “All in all, we have sixty full-time people who are here twenty-four seven. We have more that help when we’re in certain areas since those areas require a little more precautions and prep. Or when we need more workers because we expect the turnout to be larger. Those people are on hourly wages, though. So they won’t be here to eat. And, on any given night, you may not even have those sixty people eating here. You may only have twenty. It just depends on the day. They’re to let you know if they’re eating by ten in the morning, though, to make sure that you have enough prepared for them. We provide all meals for all full-time salaried employees, but again, only if they sign up that they’re eating here. We’ve actually been providing food vouchers and catering food in since our old chef left.”

“Do I get any days off?” he wondered.

I looked at him. “You’re responsible for three meals a day. Every single day we’re ‘docked.’ Meaning if the tents are out and up, you’re responsible for feeding them. All other days, they’re on their own for food. Usually, those days are moving days, and you can’t really be providing food for everyone in a moving trailer, you know?”

“I do,” he confirmed.

We finally got to the food truck and trailer. “You’re not responsible for driving this. Someone else is paid to move it. Nor are you responsible for cleaning. Someone else is responsible for that, too.”

“I’ll be the judge of if it’s clean enough,” he murmured softly, looking at the rig.

I pulled out a set of keys—every Singh had a key to every single trailer, whether they were owned by us or not—and unlocked the door.

“The trailer has a generator that keeps the food cold. When we’re docked, though, we hook up to the power sources in the area. Though we still have that backup generator in case we lose power. The food in here is usually enough for the next four days we’re docked. We don’t have anything in here now except for the tigers’ lunch and dinner. The rats are stored in our fridge on the bus. People tend to get grossed out having live rats in their vicinity.”

I climbed the steps after him, then closed the door behind us before locking it for good measure.

“If you think you have time to cook dinner tonight, we can run to the store really quick and…” I trailed off when I found myself once again in his arms and headed toward the small bathroom tucked away in the front of the trailer next to the storage closet.

My back hit the wall above the toilet, and then my legs once again slid down to firmly plant my feet on the floor.

“Get out of that torture device,” he urged.

I did, watching as he, too, disrobed, at least from the waist up.

His pants went partially down, but his ample behind caught them before they could fall to the floor.

My eyes roamed, starting at his square jaw that was slightly more covered in stubble than the last time I’d seen him—which was sexy as hell. He looked rougher and gruffer. Still sexy as hell, but damn, I’d always had a thing for beards.

My gaze trailed down the length of his torso, taking in the copious amounts of tattoos as I went.

I stopped myself from looking further, mostly because I was already way out of control and needed to get my shit together.

With his cock now free, he fished a condom out of his wallet and tossed his wallet to the ground. The foil packet went to his lips, and he tore the packet and spat the foil in his mouth to the floor.



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