Sidelines (Wounded Hearts #1) Read Online Free Page B

range looks professional grade, a wide, gas, stainless steel five-burner sits along the far wall, with a—gasp—a double oven! A matching four-door refrigerator fits right along the cabinets next to where the room opens up to what I assume is a vast living room. The modern style butcher’s table that serves as an island in the middle of the room has to be close to eight feet long. Finally, toward the back of the house, two enormous windows show off the view of the beautiful stables I wasn’t able to get a good look at before, and hosts a quaint four-person breakfast nook.
    I try to contain my drool. I may not cook, but I could easily relieve some serious stress in this beaut of a kitchen.
    Making myself walk away from the kitchen that is bigger than my entire apartment back in Cali, I step out into the grand living room to find it’s a unique, but open plan that includes a dining area, complete with a long harvest table that could easily seat ten people. The actual seating area for the living room is sunken down, requiring a single step in the wooden floors to reach the dark leather sofas. The biggest flat screen I’ve ever seen sits over a beautiful weathered wood mantel perched atop a rock-faced fireplace. Two sets of dark French doors that appear to lead out to what looks like a state-of-the-art barbecue patio, sit on either side of the upper portion of the living room. The whole room is wooden—beautiful dark wood floors with lighter stained walls. Even the open beamed ceiling gives the whole set up a true cabin feeling, giving me the sensation that I’ve walked into a luxury ski resort.
    Doing a full three-sixty, I see the house expands in opposite directions with hallways leading off to more of the first floor as well as a staircase that leads to what I can only assume is a loft. Another opening in the wall shows me where the actual front door is with a very homey looking foyer. A lonely pair of muddy boots sits next to a bench with a horseshoe hat rack attached to the wall above it. A giant cursive L covered in twine and adorned with a couple of yellow and white wildflowers hangs next to a picture mirror on the opposite wall, making me wonder what the story is behind the well done homemade decor.
    My initial research found that Logan has never been married, or even engaged for that matter, but that he is close to his family. Aside from details of his parents living nearby with his two younger sisters and a brother who lives in and plays in California, I found nothing that gave way to Logan having any female attachments. Maybe the L is from a crafty sister or a doting mom? Just another piece in the puzzle that is Logan Lassiter.
    I’m pulled from my wandering thoughts when an annoying high pitched shrill fills the air. I nearly jump out of my skin, afraid I touched something wrong when the door I came in through bursts open and a booming voice starts calling my name. I step back into the family area to find Logan, stopped a few feet away, searching the branches of the house frantically.
    “Come on, we have to get downstairs. Right now.” He reaches for my arm and starts toward a door I missed in my inspection earlier. He pulls it open and flips a switch, illuminating a small platform with stairs that lead to what looks like a basement. He steps inside first and turns an open hand to me. “Watch your step. These stairs are a little steep.”
    Pushing aside random fears that Logan is rushing me off to a room where he dismantles bodies, I take a step inside on complete faith that the only reason nobody knows anything about him isn’t because he’s some anonymous serial killer or anything. The earsplitting alarm starts a second round and makes me jump again.
    “What is that?” 
    “Tornado siren. Come on.”
    Tornadoes. I know nothing about tornadoes other than what I’ve seen on the news. Towns destroyed, nothing but broken two-by-fours and crumpled roofs.  What in the world did I get myself