Page 38 of A Curse On Black Lake (Black Lake Gothic Cowboys #1)

Chapter thirty

Killian

Another day flew past us, and after we finished dinner and cleaned the kitchen together, Eliana went upstairs and surprised me when she came back down freshly showered, with her sketchbook and a pencil.

“Do you want to sit out on the porch?” I ask her.

“Yeah,” she says, and I hold the screen door for her.

I sip my beer while I listen to her pencil rasp against the paper.

She flicks her eyes at me before going back to her page.

The sun continues its descent behind the horizon, and a nice breeze picks up. I take a deep breath, smelling the ether.

“There’s a storm coming,” Eliana says.

I take a swig and hum, watching her hair move with the wind, and what I wouldn’t do to wrap it around my fist, and tug.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers.

I blink and look away. “Sorry,” I grunt.

Her pencil stops, and she rubs her pert lips together. “No, I’m sorry, that was rude.”

Chuckling, I take another sip and sit the bottle on the deck. “No, little witch, it wasn’t because I was staring. It’s hard for me not to.” I rush out.

Her top teeth nibble her bottom lip, and I reach over, pulling it out. “I’m me, Killian. You’re … you.”

I huff. “And the sky is blue. What of it?” I ask her.

“You don’t want me,” she says so quietly it’s like the wind took the words out of her mouth.

“You don’t know what I want,” I state.

Her blue eyes darken, and I break our eye contact. I can’t stand the tension between us because I want to rip it apart with my bare hands.

“I may not know the words, but I can feel it,” she says. “And I don’t know if feeling it is a good thing.”

Unable to take it anymore, I ignore my baser instincts to grab her and show her she’s wrong, and force myself to stand. “I’m going to hit the hay.”

Eliana snaps her sketchbook closed and follows behind me. “I need to tell you something,” she blurts.

I lock the door and face her. I’ve never had to lock the door, but lately I feel like I have to, especially because we know someone is out there, and I know I’d need the time to get in front of her if necessary.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

She shifts on her feet nervously. “Please don’t be mad,” she says.

“What would I have to be mad about?” I ask her, ignoring the rolling in my gut.

“When you took some of the animals to the ranch, Wyatt showed up,” she blurts.

She won’t make eye contact with me, and I’m not sure how to take that. I’m not sure how to handle a lot of things. Living with a woman and having feelings for her, and not being able to act on any of it is confusing, and a little aggravating, if I’m honest. I’m not mad at her, but at the situation.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” I ask.

She puffs out a breath. “He basically asked me the same questions from the first time, but then he kept asking about us.”

“What did you say?” My stomach churns again.

“He asked how long we’ve been a thing. I didn’t give him a straight answer, though I hinted it was a while, and my answer seemed to bother him. Maybe it’s because he’s family and didn’t know.”

I huff. “I wouldn’t have told him even if it were true. My business is no one else’s.”

“That’s what I said.” She purses her lips.

“Did he make you uncomfortable?” I ask her because if he did I will hop in the truck now, and go beat his face in. No excuses. He knows better. We were raised better.

“It’s not because it made me uncomfortable. It’s because it gave me a gross feeling, like he was hoping I’d slip up. I think he was looking for a way to discredit your alibi.”

“Do you think he can?” I ask her, tensing for the answer.

“No, of course not. I told him we were basically in love. But it confirms that he’s fishing.” She stares at her feet and I fist my hands, digging my nails into my palm. Does she think Wyatt could be right about me?

“I know the newspaper was bullshit, but you don’t think I—”

“What? Oh Lord no, never. I know you would never do that. I’m …I’m scared of other things, but definitely not you,” she whispers.

My shoulders sag in relief. “Did the Spirits say anything about this?”

“They told me to be careful. But that’s all I know. Are you mad? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have waited so long to tell you.”

I shake my head and almost reach to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. “No, I’m not mad. I wish you had told me sooner, but…”

A large gust of wind rattles through the house. It’s going to be a nasty one.

“I’m glad we put the goats in the barn,” she says.

Okay then.

“I’m going to bed,” she says, already making her way upstairs.

I was going to say; I wish I knew what Wyatt was up to, and mention that he could be responsible for all of this, but I keep coming back to one thing — motivation. And I don’t have it.

Grabbing a glass of water before I head upstairs, I spot Eliana’s sketchbook sitting on the coffee table with the pencil between the pages.

She’s already upstairs. I can hear her walking around.

My finger slides between the pages, and I flip the cover open to stare at myself.

It’s a rough sketch, but its rugged style is beautiful to me.

It’s not delicately detailed, it’s like she did it as fast as she could, only including the finer details she felt important, like my eyes, and the set of my mouth.

I might be jumping the gun, but this confirms what she’s feeling too.

There is something there, but both of us are hesitant to pursue it.

I understand why, and I can’t disagree with it, but the more that happens, and the closer we get to each other, the more I believe we’re inescapable.

It doesn’t matter how much we refuse and fight ourselves.

It’s nothing we can change because it’s already written in stone.