Read Online The Legend of Smuggler's Cave by Paula Graves - Free Book Online Page B

that the house was grand and ostentatious—it wasn’t, really. It was large and roomy, yes, but it didn’t have priceless paintings on the wall or rare sculptures displayed under glass.
    But almost everywhere she looked, she saw things that were nothing but luxuries, things that had no purpose beyond looking pretty or drawing the eye to something else. Things that Dalton Hale had bought, not because he needed them or could make use of them but because they’d caught his eye and pleased his tastes.
    That’s what I want for Logan, she thought. I want him to be able to have things he likes just because he likes them. And not worry about whether they’re taking money away from the things he needs.
    To her surprise, Dalton was still there, perched on one of the breakfast bar stools in the kitchen reading the Knoxville morning newspaper. He looked up and smiled, the expression softening the stern lines of his face.
    “Did you sleep okay?” he asked.
    “Better than expected. I thought you’d be off to work by now.”
    “I took the day off.” He folded the paper and set it aside, sliding off the stool to crouch in front of Logan, who was half hiding behind Briar. “What would you like for cereal, little man?”
    Logan leaned his head around Briar’s leg. “Ice cream.”
    Dalton grinned and looked up at Briar, who shook her head firmly. “I think we’d better have something a little more nutritious.”
    “He likes peanut butter with sliced bananas on toast,” she suggested, trying to think of something even a bachelor might have in his kitchen.
    “I can handle that.” Logan rose and crossed to the large pantry by the refrigerator. His kitchen, like the rest of his house, was built for convenience and ease of use, with plenty of cabinets and miles of counter space. The breakfast bar doubled as a butcher block, but despite its large size, it barely seemed to make a dent in the spacious room.
    “I know folks who’d kill to have a kitchen like this,” she said as he brought a jar of peanut butter, a couple of ripe bananas and a bag of sliced bread to the counter. “And no jury in this part of Tennessee would convict them.”
    “It’s too big for one person,” he admitted. “But it comes in handy when I entertain.”
    “Do you do much of that? Entertaining?”
    He put four slices of toast in the oversize toaster on the counter nearby. “More than I want to. The price of politics.”
    She set Logan on one of the stools and perched on the one beside him. “I’ll do some shopping for Logan and me sometime today. So we don’t eat you out of house and home.”
    He paused in the middle of twisting the top off the peanut butter jar. “No. You’re here as my guests.”
    “No, we’re not.” She lifted her chin. “We’re here so you can pick my brain about Johnny. And I’m here because you live in a gated community and you have a real nice alarm system. We’re not friends.”
    He looked at her for a long moment, and for a second she thought she saw something that looked suspiciously like hurt in his green eyes. Then he looked down at the open jar of peanut butter and shrugged. “As you wish.” He sounded indifferent, not insulted, and she shook off the guilt that had fluttered for a moment in the center of her chest.
    “Speaking of that,” she added a moment later, “how soon can you get me those files we talked about last night?”
    The toast popped up and he gingerly removed the hot bread from the toaster and set it on a paper towel spread across the counter. “I’ll have to go into Barrowville to retrieve them, but I think today would be better spent figuring out the logistics of your stay here.”
    “I work the five-to-midnight shift at the station,” she said, reaching for the bananas sitting next to the jar of peanut butter. While Dalton spread peanut butter on the bread, she peeled the bananas and started slicing them into thin rounds and putting them atop the peanut butter and toast. “My