Page 35 of A Curse On Black Lake (Black Lake Gothic Cowboys #1)

Chapter twenty-seven

Eliana

Almost an hour later, Killian pulls up with an empty trailer and a scowl on his face.

“You alright?” he asks.

I nod.

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost, then?” he asks.

I look down, confused. I should be tan and sweaty, but Wyatt shook me, and that’s hard for me to admit to myself, let alone Killian.

Killian takes my cowboy hat off my head, and I look up at him. He’s equally sweaty, and I know we’re both tired. I don’t know how I’m still on my feet.

“Are you almost done?” he asks.

“I have almost everything harvested, but I still have to start tinctures.”

“Alright, well, let me get the goats and chickens packed up, so we can load them up and take off when you’re ready.”

“Do we need to move more cattle today?” I ask him.

“I don’t think so, but I need to check the herd.”

“I’ll hurry,” I rasp.

“What’s going on with you?” Killian asks.

It’s irksome to me that he knows something is up. I’m pretty good at hiding things, to the point Grams couldn’t always tell.

“Let me get this finished up,” I mutter and go back to snipping some lavender back for it to grow out more.

Killian grunts inaudibly and stomps away.

After I get enough lavender gathered, I carry it all inside and shake dirt and particles from all of it, inspecting each stem before I shove the oregano in the large jar full of organic vodka for a tincture.

After I’m done with the oregano, I tie the lavender up and hang it, then move on to the mint, separating it for various uses like teas and salves.

“Hey, I got the stalls cleaned up and their feed all loaded up.”

“Thank you,” I say with my back to him.

“Can I help in here?” he asks.

I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s past lunchtime, and we need to get out to the cattle.

“Almost done,” I mutter, pushing the mint into a jar full of jojoba oil. It will steep in the oil, and I’ll mix it later for a salve.

“I need to drop off soap too,” I tell him.

“No problem,” he grunts.

Once I get my workspace cleaned up and gather my soap into a box to deliver, I run to my closet and grab one of my other dresses and another pair of boots.

On my way out the door, I stop in the study and grab my old journal with a lot of passed-down information, Grams’s journal, and something in the back of my mind says to bring my great grandma Lily’s with the curse.

Part of me doesn’t want to touch it, but maybe I missed a detail.

It might be worth reading cover to cover.

Putting everything in a canvas tote, I check the doors and windows one more time to make sure they’re locked before I leave. When I’m done, I struggle to hold the box and close the door behind me.

“Here,” Killian says, taking the box from me.

“Good?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

He puts the box in the back seat of the truck, and we get the goats and chickens loaded up to head back to the ranch. My stomach won’t stop twisting and turning with so much going through my mind. I can feel Killian’s gaze constantly returning to me as he drives.

I’m not used to expressing my emotions in this way.

Grams taught me to work through them because for a long time it was only frustration and anger.

I wasn’t dealing only with my own thoughts.

I’ve carried these Spirits for almost two decades.

Everything else I either ignored or moved past. If I allowed what people say behind my back, and the mean looks to get to me, then I would have never gotten out of bed again.

But I didn’t have that choice. Gram’s wouldn’t allow it, and as she declined, someone had to take care of everything.

Now that I’m on my own and I don’t have to care for Grams, a lot of things I pushed down are coming back up.

Everything happening with this curse, and Killian, is stacking on top. I fear I might blow at any moment.

Killian pulls up to Cricket’s parking lot, and I hop out to take their delivery of soap in. I head straight to one of the registers and set the box on the counter. “This is a delivery from the apothecary,” I tell an older woman, Theresa. She usually glares at me most of the time.

“Here’s your check,” she says, sliding it across the counter.

I meet her eyes and force myself to say, “Thank you.”

Her eyes widen on me before I walk back out the door.

Killian would be proud.

I hop in the truck, ignoring the three people standing outside the door staring at me as Killian drives off.

“We’ll have to move them tomorrow. The other pastures are at a good place,” Killian says.

I hum and tilt my head back as the breeze blows across my face, while Winnie grazes.

The air smells lighter out here. My garden at home is wonderful, but here I don’t feel so weighed down by responsibility, and I hate to think that it’s because Grams isn’t there.

My interest in anything to do with our apothecary has waned.

It’s purely out of obligation that I’ve accomplished anything.

I’ve been trying to tell myself it’s purely because I’m grieving and everything I do reminds me of her, but I guess I could be depressed too. Maybe it’s a combination.

“Eliana? You ready?” Killian asks.

He startles me, and I open my eyes to find him right next to me on his horse.

“Yeah,” I rasp.

He stares at me with his serious brown eyes for a moment too long, then turns Daisy around. We’re still getting to know each other, and I’m still learning to read him. But every time he looks at me like that, it makes me nervous, but also curious. I want to know what’s going through his mind.

When we get back to the barns, Killian grabs his tools while I love on my goats.

Dropping onto the ground, they rush me, nuzzling and bleating, likely telling me off since they were moved and nothing is where it’s supposed to be.

To my right, Tiny sits as sentry outside of the gated pen for them, watching me carefully.

Killian hammers and uses his circular saw over by the barn entrance, and I can’t help but stare at the man with his tool belt hanging off his hips.

“I’m working on a shelter for the goats, but I don’t think I have enough lumber,” Killian calls, pulling a small wall behind him.

It’s summer, so it won’t get cold, but when the temperatures drop, they’ll need it. If this goes on that long … I don’t know if I can handle that long.

Getting to my feet, I help him with the other pre-made wall and set it straight so he can screw the two together.

“Do you want me to build some garden beds so you can grow things here?” he asks.

My jaw drops, and he smiles a little, which only serves to make my heart pound and my stomach flip. I love when he smiles. It looks good on him.

“You would do that?” I ask him.

He shrugs and squeezes the trigger of the drill, driving the screw in. “If you want me to, sure.”

“Thank you, but even if I planted now, it wouldn’t produce enough for me to use,” I tell him.

“What about fall?” he asks.

“Anything coming for fall is already sprouting. I would have had to plant it a month ago. Plus, I have to be back at home almost every day anyway because of the apothecary.”

He puts a couple more screws in before tightening the others.

“Have you considered changing your hours?” he asks.

I puff out a breath and look over at Tiny. “Yeah, I’m going to have to,” I mutter. But part of me is relieved because then I don’t have to be there as often.

Our family has been in this town so long, many generations have contributed to a small nest egg, but it also requires that I put money into it too.

If I use what’s in it without putting anything back in, I won’t last long.

I’m still going to have to change the hours the apothecary is open, and somehow convince people that I’m almost as qualified as my Grams. I’ve been trained to be a midwife, but everyone probably thinks I’ll put a hex on their baby the moment they’re born.

“I need to go to the lumber store, get shingles, wood, and some screws,” Killian says, bringing me out of my thoughts.

He tilts his head, inspecting his handy work and I reach over to his shoulder.

“Thank you, Killian. For everything.”

He looks up from his position, and the way he gazes at me makes my knees weak and my body hot. “You’re welcome.”

He stands to his full height, and my hand drops from his shoulder. “I know the goats probably need some cover, so I can get lumber now. The other option is to get them into a stall for the night before I finish it tomorrow. They’re your goats, so you tell me.”

I sigh and hold my hat in one hand while I drag my other through my sweaty hair. I’m tired, and there’s no doubt Killian is too. “Let’s corral them into a stall or two tonight. They’ll be fine.”

After we get the goats bedded down, we get the horses back in their stalls, and walk up the hill to the house.

“I didn’t find anything, by the way. No camouflage or brushing out like someone was trying to cover their tracks,” he says.

“Well, that sucks,” I mumble.

“He’s skilled,” he says, opening the front door for me.

“I guess, but we're assuming he was here for me, and not you.”

Killian pauses. “I suppose so,” he says gruffly, and heads for the stairs without another word.

I watch him disappear from sight, his words rolling around in my head. That’s what scares me. Whoever is after me leaves tracks intentionally, in boot prints, or gifts, and there’s no telling what his next move is.

I look between the stairs and the kitchen. I’m dead on my feet, but my stomach is screaming for food. I could go get a shower, but that would prolong my hungry stomach.

Killian didn’t ask me to make dinner, nor do I think he expects me to. But I’m here. I’m used to cooking for two, so I might as well.

Trudging to the kitchen, I look at what he has in the fridge — some ground beef and venison. I can work with that.

By the time I get the meatloaf done, Killian comes down the stairs dressed in a t-shirt with low-hanging gym shorts.

My mouth goes dry as my eyes trail up his muscular body.

I’ve made a point not to stare as much as humanly possible, but it’s hard not to.

From what I can tell, he doesn’t have a six pack, not that I care, but he’s stronger than an ox, and his cut arms make me all gooey inside, and those hands.

I’ve never been so deeply attracted to hands in my entire life. What’s wrong with me?

Ahh, she finally sees. The Spirits say.

“Shut up,” I grit under my breath.

“Something smells good,” he says as his eyes bounce between me and the dinner table. “You made dinner?” he asks as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

I shrug and grab a glass of water. “I was hungry, I assumed you were too.”

“You made me dinner?” he asks again.

I giggle and sit down before scooping some broccoli onto my plate. “I made us dinner.”

He puffs a breath and sits down at the table.

Then he surprises me and reaches across for my hand.

“Thank you for doing this, but I didn’t want you to stay with me so I could have my meals cooked. I don’t want you to feel like you need to do any of this.”

I purse my lips and give him a look. “I’m not exactly an easy situation, it’s the least I could do.”

“No, we’ll take turns. It’s not all on you,” he says.

“I’m used to cooking for two,” I rasp as the pang of missing Grams stings like a hot bullet. “You’ve been helping me not waste food when you’ve eaten at my place.”

“I’m glad I could help,” he says quietly.

I take a bite before pointing my fork at him. “But don’t mistake me for some kind of live-in maid because it ain’t me.”

He chuckles and takes a bite of meatloaf. “You would be the world’s worst maid. You’ve been here for less than forty-eight hours, and stuff is everywhere.”

I smile. “Remember this was your idea.”

He grins. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten.” His tone drops and his gaze darkens again, and my legs feel like jelly. So that’s what that feels like …