Read Online Barefoot in Pearls (Barefoot Bay Brides Book 3) by Roxanne St. Claire - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Roxanne St. Claire
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kids to party.
Maybe the general seediness explained the shudder that rolled through her. “If I’d known what was in this place, I might have taken my chances to get back to the truck.”
“Not with that lightning, you wouldn’t have. Demolition is scheduled for next week, but I’d rather avoid the hassle of a fire. Talk about red tape.” He urged her along. “Stay right next to me while I find the fuse box.”
She hesitated for a moment, still torn between…what was tearing her apart? Heart and head? Body and soul? Right and wrong? Real and imagined? Everything about Luke McBain was a paradox to her. So, she took his hand and let him lead her, intent on figuring out what this sensation was and why it was so powerful.
As they walked toward the kitchen, Luke stopped and touched the walls.
“What are you doing?”
“Feeling for heat. Lightning can travel right through the electrical system.”
“I don’t think there’s any electricity in this house, Luke.”
“Doesn’t need to be on for lightning to shoot through the wires and start a fire. The box is in here, if I recall.” He pushed open a door to what looked like a small walk-in pantry in the back of the kitchen.
Something scampered inside. Ari inched back with another shudder.
“We are not alone,” Luke droned ominously.
“Of course we aren’t,” she said. “A man died in this house.”
He turned and threw her a look, his eyes hooded in the shadow from the flashlight. “You’re not going to tell me I can’t tear this place down, too, are you?”
“It’s not the same as the hill.”
“Why not?” He leveled the beam on an ancient fuse box hanging out of the wall.
“He’s not buried here.”
Another look from Luke, this one more cynical than the last. “Would you, um, feel it if he was?”
She wasn’t sure if he was mocking her or just asking. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly.
The skepticism in his eyes melted as he patted the walls around the box, sticking his head closer to examine each wire. “Nothing’s warm. We may be okay.” He flattened his hand against the wall again, leaning into it as he sniffed. “I don’t smell smo—”
He suddenly slipped as his whole arm went straight through the wall to the elbow.
“Shit!” He yanked his arm out, and when he did, the whole sheet of drywall came right off with it.
“Oh!” Ari backed up, out of the pantry, certain that half the rodent and roach population of Mimosa Key would come scurrying out at her.
“What the hell?” Luke moved in closer, shining his light on the exposed studs and moldy wood. “At least it won’t be hard to tear down.”
Ari’s gaze dropped low, partially in trepidation that a nest of rats lived in the walls—she liked nature, but not that much—and her gaze landed on the top of a wooden crate revealed by the broken wall.
“What’s that?” she asked.
He pointed the light on it, showing faded lettering across the top, the gray outline curved across the top. “Rueckheim & Eckstein,” he read. “Whatever that is.”
“Cracker Jack.”
He looked over his shoulder, half-smiling at what he probably assumed was a joke.
“Rueckheim & Eckstein was a candymaker in Chicago that invented Cracker Jack.” She inched closer, a frisson of excitement and anticipation prickling her skin. Something was in that crate. Something…important. She could feel it. “Please open it, Luke.”
“So you can eat hundred-year-old Cracker Jacks?”
“So I can see what the old man was hiding in his walls.”
Without arguing, he crouched down and put his hand on the side of the crate. “It’s nailed shut.”
“Which makes me want to open it even more.”
He laughed softly, handing her the flashlight. “Hold this.”
She aimed the light on the box as he bent over and hoisted it up. “Heavy,” he said with a grunt. “Not big enough for a dead body. Books, maybe? Buried treasure?”
He glanced around for a tool of some sort but,
Maybe the general seediness explained the shudder that rolled through her. “If I’d known what was in this place, I might have taken my chances to get back to the truck.”
“Not with that lightning, you wouldn’t have. Demolition is scheduled for next week, but I’d rather avoid the hassle of a fire. Talk about red tape.” He urged her along. “Stay right next to me while I find the fuse box.”
She hesitated for a moment, still torn between…what was tearing her apart? Heart and head? Body and soul? Right and wrong? Real and imagined? Everything about Luke McBain was a paradox to her. So, she took his hand and let him lead her, intent on figuring out what this sensation was and why it was so powerful.
As they walked toward the kitchen, Luke stopped and touched the walls.
“What are you doing?”
“Feeling for heat. Lightning can travel right through the electrical system.”
“I don’t think there’s any electricity in this house, Luke.”
“Doesn’t need to be on for lightning to shoot through the wires and start a fire. The box is in here, if I recall.” He pushed open a door to what looked like a small walk-in pantry in the back of the kitchen.
Something scampered inside. Ari inched back with another shudder.
“We are not alone,” Luke droned ominously.
“Of course we aren’t,” she said. “A man died in this house.”
He turned and threw her a look, his eyes hooded in the shadow from the flashlight. “You’re not going to tell me I can’t tear this place down, too, are you?”
“It’s not the same as the hill.”
“Why not?” He leveled the beam on an ancient fuse box hanging out of the wall.
“He’s not buried here.”
Another look from Luke, this one more cynical than the last. “Would you, um, feel it if he was?”
She wasn’t sure if he was mocking her or just asking. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly.
The skepticism in his eyes melted as he patted the walls around the box, sticking his head closer to examine each wire. “Nothing’s warm. We may be okay.” He flattened his hand against the wall again, leaning into it as he sniffed. “I don’t smell smo—”
He suddenly slipped as his whole arm went straight through the wall to the elbow.
“Shit!” He yanked his arm out, and when he did, the whole sheet of drywall came right off with it.
“Oh!” Ari backed up, out of the pantry, certain that half the rodent and roach population of Mimosa Key would come scurrying out at her.
“What the hell?” Luke moved in closer, shining his light on the exposed studs and moldy wood. “At least it won’t be hard to tear down.”
Ari’s gaze dropped low, partially in trepidation that a nest of rats lived in the walls—she liked nature, but not that much—and her gaze landed on the top of a wooden crate revealed by the broken wall.
“What’s that?” she asked.
He pointed the light on it, showing faded lettering across the top, the gray outline curved across the top. “Rueckheim & Eckstein,” he read. “Whatever that is.”
“Cracker Jack.”
He looked over his shoulder, half-smiling at what he probably assumed was a joke.
“Rueckheim & Eckstein was a candymaker in Chicago that invented Cracker Jack.” She inched closer, a frisson of excitement and anticipation prickling her skin. Something was in that crate. Something…important. She could feel it. “Please open it, Luke.”
“So you can eat hundred-year-old Cracker Jacks?”
“So I can see what the old man was hiding in his walls.”
Without arguing, he crouched down and put his hand on the side of the crate. “It’s nailed shut.”
“Which makes me want to open it even more.”
He laughed softly, handing her the flashlight. “Hold this.”
She aimed the light on the box as he bent over and hoisted it up. “Heavy,” he said with a grunt. “Not big enough for a dead body. Books, maybe? Buried treasure?”
He glanced around for a tool of some sort but,
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