Robin in the Hood (Robbin' Hearts Series Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

like sunshine and made it clear as day!”
    Her gaze narrowed for a moment as she carefully looked me up and down. “What’s your trouble, honey? You pregnant?”
    “Huh? N-No!” I replied, utterly confused. “I mean, what? This isn’t the bank’s money—it’s
y
o
u
r
money?”
    I couldn’t help it. I started to cry. I’d never seen anyone do anything so . . . selfless . . . in my whole life.
    “Th-thank you,” I sputtered, hugging the basket to my chest. The blueberry muffins smelled like pure heaven. “I-I hardly know what to say—I—”
    “Go on!” she smiled. “An’ spread your blessings out there like seeds, child. The way the good Lord showed us. Now hurry up, before the day gets away!”
    Thoroughly stunned, I turned and walked in a total daze to the door. But as I opened it, I began to wonder: What if that guy tries to snag the basket from me?
    Clutching the basket tighter, I quickly stuffed the bills into my pocket and steeled my back, taking confident, measured strides out the bank door to our car.
    Jesus or no Jesus—I resolved, clenching my fists—if anyone so much as looks at these muffins, they’re going to eat a basket sandwich today for lunch.

Chapter 3
     
    My mind was still reeling from my first “bank job”—a.k.a. charity case?—and run-in with the hottest guy in the free world as I pulled the Miata onto a road near Bender Lake. Sure, I guess I was lucky he’d been nowhere in sight after I’d bolted from that sweet bingo lady at the bank. But deep inside, I’d hoped to catch just
o
n
e
more glimpse. I mean, guys that dangerously good-looking almost never cross into my world, unless they were stealing plasma TVs or Porsches. Without even trying, he’d suddenly made the boys at Breton look like sissies with their pin-striped uniforms, designer sneakers, and glow-in-the-dark smiles. Oh, how I wondered what it would be like to run my fingers through his wild, sun-kissed hair . . .
    A pothole shook me from my reverie as the Miata nearly stalled in a stretch of mud. The road we were on was unmarked. Hell, everything around here was unmarked! But that’s what the owner of a nearby filling station had warned me to expect. When I’d asked him about rentals in the area, he took one look at my dad, snoozing in our now hopelessly-dented Miata with leaves and muffin crumbs plastered all over his face, and heaved a sigh. Shaking his head like we were certifiable losers, he muttered under his breath.
    “Well, I reckon the last dirt road west of Bender Lake might have something for you.
I
f
they let you in.”
    Let me in what? I’d wondered later as I cautiously steered the Miata towards a dark stand of woods, scanning the old tires and rusty appliances that littered the overgrown road. I turned to my dad, who’d finally woken up and was devouring the last of the blueberry muffins, and patted his arm.
    “So, you sure you’re ready for the high life?”
    My dad shrugged, so I proceeded slowly over a rocky patch until I saw a broken, homemade sign on the ground.
    T
u
r
t
l
e

S
h
o
r
e
s

T
r
a
i
l
e
r

P
a
r
k
.
    A smiling turtle by a lake was painted on one side with an exploding cannon on the other.
    Kind of a mixed message, if you asked me. I didn’t think much of it till I saw my dad glance up and shift uncomfortably in his seat.
    “B-B-Bunther? Bunther LAYK?”
    “Yeah, Dad, we finally made it to Bender Lake. And don’t get all fussy on me. It’s the only place where no one’s gonna pry into our business. See what I mean?”
    I pointed to a coffee can in the mud with the words
L
e
a
v
e

R
e
n
t
scrawled on it.
    “Wow, something tells me you don’t have to fill out an application to live here. Must be a pretty trusting crowd, if that’s where they leave their cash—”
    “No!” My dad shook his head. All at once, his eyes looked strangely alarmed. “Ammo, Wobbin. They goth ammo—DUCK!”
    Before I could ask questions, a screeching sound soared over our heads,