Page 36 of A Curse On Black Lake (Black Lake Gothic Cowboys #1)

Chapter twenty-eight

Killian

Glancing at my watch, I take another sip of coffee, wondering where Eliana is.

I didn’t hear her get up, but it’s not like I put my ear to her door to check.

After dinner last night, I told her I’d handle the dishes, and she disappeared upstairs.

I still haven’t seen her this morning. Learning to live with her hasn’t been as much of a challenge as I thought it might be.

She’s definitely messy, but strangely enough, it doesn't bother me.

We complement each other, and I wonder if she noticed.

The plan for the day is to finish the goat’s shelter and then move the cattle to the refreshed pastures. But at the rate we’re going, only one herd will be moved, and I don’t like falling behind schedule, no matter how hard I try. It happens though.

It’s 5:30, and she still isn’t down here. Deciding to give her a few more minutes, I go into the laundry room to start a load of clothes. It looks like the dryer still has Eliana’s clothes in there.

I get my clothes loaded and the washer going, and as I turn the corner, Eliana runs smack into me.

“Oh!” she yelps.

I chuckle and grab her shoulders to steady her. She looks up at me with wide eyes, and the towel that was around her is now resting at my feet … on the floor.

She’s naked as the day she was born, and almost lift my hand to wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth.

She’s stunning.

I could take years, no, a lifetime to admire every dip, curve, and muscle of her body.

Yanking my eyes to hers, she swallows thickly. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. Is the AC working? I keep my gaze on hers, trying my best not to drag my eyes all over her again. It’s not like I meant to.

“I um—”

“Can I, uh—”

We speak at the same time, and I don’t know what to do. My hands are still on her shoulders, and my heart is pounding so hard it feels like it’s about to rip through my chest.

I lift my hands from her warm skin and bend down to pick up her towel without looking at her.

“Thanks,” she rasps

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll uh, go … away.” I bumble for words and scurry out of the laundry room as fast as I can.

I sounded like an idiot, and now my jeans are a little too tight.

Puffing out a breath, I down the rest of my coffee and hightail it out of the house. I’ll wait for her somewhere else.

By the time Eliana comes outside, my body has calmed down, but she won’t make eye contact with me. I’m not so sure she feels the same way.

“Ready to go?” I ask her.

Should we talk about this? I mean, we’re both adults.

It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Granted, it was a long time ago, and no woman I’ve ever been with has ever looked like her.

She’s like Aphrodite with a cowgirl hat on.

She didn’t have a hat on at that moment, but — shut it down right now, Killian. Stop thinking. Just STOP.

Eliana hurries down the steps to the truck without a word, and waits for me to catch up.

I wordlessly get in the truck and head for Livingston’s.

She has stared out her window the entire ride to the lumber store. I want to ask her what’s on her mind, though I’m not sure she would tell me. Then again, maybe she wants to pretend nothing happened.

“Do we need to stop at your place before we go back to the ranch?” I ask her.

She doesn’t answer, and I peek over, and I’m not sure she heard me. “Little witch?” I call, hoping it makes her smile.

Maybe the Spirits are talking to her. How is a man supposed to compete with Spirits that live in her head? How do I keep her attention?

My chest gets warm. Am I jealous of Spirits? I push the thought out of my mind, though I could think of a few ways to keep her attention solely on mine.

But that will never happen, even if I want it to.

But it can’t.

It feels unfair, or wrong, to seek solace or peace in someone else who’s struggling with their own grief.

I reach for her hand, hoping I can gently bring her attention to mine. She jumps with my touch and blinks rapidly as she focuses on me.

“Hmm?” she says.

I squeeze her hand. “I wanted to know if we need to go to your place before the lumberyard?”

“No, I’ve done everything I can do and I haven’t thought about my hours yet. Plus we need to move cattle today,” she says.

“You sure? I don’t mind.”

She nods, and I continue into town still holding her hand.

“Do you want to …”

“Nope, I’m good,” she squeaks. Her cheeks are pink, and I force my hand to stay where it is instead of rubbing my thumb over her rosy skin.

There isn’t anything else for miles in so downtown Black Lake stays as busy as small towns with a population of less than two thousand people can be.

Livingston’s is at the end of the block next to the Black Lake Sentinel newspaper. Since it’s so hard to get television in this town, people heavily rely on the paper for any kind of information going on in the outside world.

Finding a spot in front of the newspaper, I let go of Eliana’s hand and grab the handle to get out, then release it and reach for her hand again.

“What?” she asks.

“I—” I pause, thinking through my words.

“Killian, come on. It’s alright. I mean, it’s awkward, but I’m sure it's nothing you haven’t seen before. I’m already over it.”

On the inside, I’m bursting because she evidently has no idea how beautiful she is.

I almost fell to my knees right then and there.

But I have to focus. I clear my throat and meet her eyes.

“That’s not what I’m talking about. We were already seen together at the library, and I want you to know I don’t care what people think.

But they’re going to see us together again, it’s going to make them talk more. Are you okay with that?”

She shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I be? I sat on your lap in front of Wyatt.”

“Yeah, but that was different.” I tell her, and ignore the fact that I haven’t stopped thinking about the way she felt against my body. I’ve gone to sleep refusing to use my hand to ease the ache that’s grown for her. That will become significantly harder because of today.

“How was it different? I know I talk a big game, but the way people look at me has always bothered me. But I know I’m safe with you,” she says the last few words on a whisper.

“You are.”

“Then let’s get some lumber for my goats,” she says.

I grin, and she smiles back, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. What’s going on with her? Did the towel thing bother her that much? It was an accident. It’s not a big deal. But she’s wrong about one thing: I’ve never seen a woman like her.

We hop out of the truck, and Eliana waits for me on the sidewalk. An older man stares at her for a little too long, and I nearly growl at him to back off.

She keeps her eyes on me, and I keep her on the inside of the sidewalk as we go past the newspaper with its latest paper stacked in front of the large windows. A little change box sits next to the stacks for people to pay.

Then I see the headline.

I stop, and Eliana nearly runs into me, catching herself with both hands on my back.

I read the headline again to make sure I’m not seeing things.

Then I look around and realize everyone, including their dog, read the newspaper today because Maribelle and her son stopped in their tracks, picked up her kid and hurries past us keeping her eyes down, in a panicked walk.

“Kill, what’s—” I chuck my chin to the newspapers we’re standing next to, and she reads it quickly.

Ex-Sheriff’s Detective Killian Lennox, Suspected of Serial Murder

Killian Lennox is suspected of murdering 11-12 women in cold blood according to recently acquired evidence.

I grab the paper and unfold it to see the article.

Eliana steps closer to read it. They compare the women who have been dumped around Black Lake with a similar signature to the woman found on my property.

And all have the same cause of death — strangulation.

I’m mentioned as being a suspect since another woman was found on my property.

They mention the K carved into her skin, and the dyed hair.

Eliana’s eyebrows are furrowed as she reads the disturbing article. The only way they would have gotten this information was if someone at the Sheriff’s Department gave it to them. It would be hard for me to believe it was Wyatt. But maybe he wants people to think it’s me.

I puff out a breath and toss the paper back onto the others. Her hand reaches for mine, and the solidarity makes my stomach stop clenching.

“I thought this was supposed to be confidential,” she whispers.

The corner of my mouth tips up, not because anything about this situation is funny, but because she thinks that anything, even police investigations in this town, stay quiet. “Nothing stays a secret in this town.”

“True,” she mutters, looking at the newspaper again. “What new evidence? They didn’t include the Death Flower. We know more than he does, and they didn’t list anything we didn’t already know,” Eliana says under her breath.

“I don’t know.”

“Did you get the paper this morning?” she asks.

I shake my head. “I would have had to go to the mailbox, and I didn’t this morning. But I wish I did because then we would have stayed home,” I grumble.

“Let’s go,” she says, tugging me away from the newsstand.

I could try to sue them for slander, but it would be useless, and I don’t have the money for a lawyer.

If they arrest me, I’ll have to put the ranch up for collateral to pay for it.

My father is probably spinning in his grave.

I’ve not only ruined the Lennox name, but I’m dragging the Greers into my mess too.

As far as the town is concerned, if the Sentinel says I did it, then I did.

It’s a trial by public opinion, and substantial evidence doesn’t matter.

I hold the door for Eliana into Livingston’s and take a deep breath before following her in.

Leading the way to the nails and screws, I stop at the screws I need and throw a handful in a bag. I grab a box of roofing nails for the shingled roof I’ll install too. Eliana comes up behind me with a basket, and I drop it in.

Bill Reed, a farmer, glares at me as we leave the aisle towards the lumber desk to get what I need. I give him a deadpan stare and keep walking, checking behind me to make sure Eliana is there.

She’s glaring at Clive, who owns the bakery, and I grab the basket and her hand, pulling her with me. The last thing we need is to piss anyone off. It feels like we’re sitting on a powder keg, and it’s about to blow.

The lumber desk is empty, so I ding the bell, waiting for one of the high school boys to come up. That’s usually who they have working here.

Charley Dickens hurries to the counter and taps the screen of the old computer. When he looks up, his eyes widen in fear as he looks between us. He stares a little too long at Eliana, and I clear my throat. He’s a kid, and he’s listening to what the adults are telling him.

“Hey Charley, this is what I need from the lumberyard,” I tell him, sliding my list across the table.

His shaking hand takes the paper, and he enters it into the old computer before printing it out and handing me the yard receipt. “Thanks, Charley, have a good day,” I tell him and force a smile.

Charley takes a step away from the desk and dips his chin stiffly.

With my hand at the small of Eliana’s back, I urge her forward, down another hall with paint. She pauses for a moment, looking at the paint chips, then keeps walking. “Wait, do you want to paint it?” I ask her.

“No, I was thinking of my room at home,” she says.

“What about your room at my house?” I ask her.

“It’s not my room though,” she says.

I grin. “Pick a color, little witch.”

Her eyes widen, and a smile grows on her face. “You’re pushing it by calling me that in public,” she says.

I chuckle and bump her with my shoulder. “I’m an outlaw, darlin’, I don’t know what you expected.”

She nibbles on her lower lip and rolls her eyes before plucking out a few paint chips.

“Which one?” she asks.

I look at them, and they are all green, and look virtually identical. “Um … green.”

She giggles. “They’re different greens.”

“What green do you like?” I ask her.

She considered each of them, tilting her head and pursing those pretty lips.

I point to the one on the right. It complements her eyes.

“I like that one too,” she says and puts the other paint chips back.

We go to the paint desk, and Helen, an older woman, hardly blinks at us as she gets a gallon of green paint ready.

After gathering paint supplies, we head to the checkout, and the stares are getting more blatant. It’s time to go. I spot Caroline and her daughter Lucille, pointing at Eliana. A flash of anger rolls through me, and I wrap my arm around her shoulder protectively.

She looks up at me, blinking furiously. I can’t tell if the Spirits were talking to her, or she’s trying to keep from crying. “Ignore them,” she says thickly.

I drop the basket of supplies on the old counter.

Old Man Winters glares between us, but I don’t know if it’s because of gossip, or his normal face. He’s usually just a grump.

He scans everything and stares at me, waiting for me to pay. Eliana pulls a couple of twenties out of her pocket, and I push her hand away before handing over a hundred-dollar bill to the old man.

He grumbles and hands me my change.

“I told you I’d pay for this,” Eliana says as we walk out the door.

“You’re buying all the feed. I don’t mind.”

“Well, thank you,” she says.

“You don’t have to thank me, darlin’,” I tell her.

Her seatbelt clicks, and she levels me with a stare. “Yes, I do.”

“In that case, I can think of a few ways.” I joke.

Her jaw drops, and then she covers her mouth, laughing.

I should bottle the sound because I think it could heal anyone who hears it. This is the first time I’ve heard her laugh so freely, and I want to hear it more.

I’d beg for it.

She slaps my shoulder, and I back out of the spot. “You are really playing into the bad cowboy thing aren’t you?”

“I can be good,” I rasp.

“I thought you were a gentleman,” she says, with extra twang.

“Who said I can’t be both? I’m pretty sure you’ve seen me dirty more often than clean since I met you.”

“You know what I mean,” Eliana whispers.

I swallow the groan in my throat.

“Yes, I do, and I’d give you a new definition of dirty cowboy.”

She inhales sharply, and I keep my eyes on the road before making the quick turn into the lumberyard. I hand the attendant my receipt, and he waves me in.

“Stay here. I’ll get the wood.” I hop out before she can respond and on counting my two by fours because I need to think about anything else other than dirtying up Eliana. Anything else.