Page 65 of A Curse On Black Lake (Black Lake Gothic Cowboys #1)

Chapter fifty

Eliana

Killian didn’t give me a choice, placing me in the truck and driving into town. He doesn’t want to leave me alone, which I can understand. I’m a little afraid to be by myself, purely out of fear I’ll go into a trance again, walk into the lake, and drown without knowing it. So I didn’t fight him.

We did the bare minimum of our chores today since we were so late.

He kept checking on me as if I’d been sick with the flu.

I kept reassuring him, but he still doesn’t believe me.

Luckily, we worked quickly, and the rest can be pushed later.

I don’t even want to think about the apothecary.

I already hate myself enough as it is. I feel like a human punching bag at this point.

The vision, or dream, whatever it was, keeps replaying in my head on repeat, making my stomach churn.

Killian keeps his eyes on the road, and I reach across the armrest for his hand. He’s the only thing that calms my soul. My heart remembers what it’s supposed to do around him.

He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles, and puts it on his thigh with his hand resting on top.

I wish I knew the timing of all of this, but I don’t. So I have to look at every minute with him as my last. I have to treat it like the gift it is and hold it close.

We get to Delilah’s, and I drop off the soap I’ve had since Hazel was murdered in my backyard and find Killian in one of the aisles grabbing potatoes, and other odds and ends for our dinner.

He carries the basket to the register, and I don’t bother noticing if people are looking at me. None of it matters.

When we get home, Killian sets the bags in the kitchen and turns around with a grin on his face.

“What?” I ask, shifting on my feet.

“So … I want to treat this like a proper date, like we don’t already live together,” he says.

“Okay…” I trail off as a smile builds on my face. “I’ve never been on a date before,” I tell him, biting down on my lower lip.

He chuckles. “I don’t know why I like that so much, but I do.”

My face feels hot. “Should I go get ready?”

He nods. “Yeah,” he says, out of breath, like he’s been running.

I grin and run up the stairs. I’m going to wear one of my best dresses.

I don’t wear makeup, but I had a little blush I made, along with some mascara. I line my lips with some lavender oil mixed with jojoba and take a deep breath, wiping my sweaty hands on my dress.

My first date. And my last, but we won’t think about that right now.

I chose my lavender slip dress. I saw it at the Cricket’s, one of the few times I would go out with Grams, and I had to have it.

Grams about had a cow when I bought it because of the lace on the top and the slit that reaches my mid-thigh because I’m so short.

I don’t care. I feel beautiful in it, so it’s worth it.

I’ve been waiting to wear it for something special.

My hair is half up, half down to keep it out of my face, and I put in a pair of turquoise earrings that used to be my mother’s.

I didn’t bother with shoes since the restaurant is downstairs. But I’m so nervous I hesitate to take the first step.

You can do this, Eliana.

You know he likes you. No, he loves you. He wants to treat you. You should let him. Don’t run the other way.

You really shouldn’t. The Spirits say.

“No one asked you,” I mutter.

Very well. The Spirits sigh.

Taking another breath because I can’t seem to inhale and exhale like a normal human being, I lift my chin and go down the stairs.

As I hit the bottom step, I find a mason jar full of wildflowers and candles lit on the coffee table. When I turn the corner, the dinner table is covered with a tablecloth and a little vase with daisies sticking out of it, and the smell of dinner wafts into my nose.

Heat blooms in my chest like warm honey spreading through every inch of my body.

Killian stands there with his hands in his pockets and his hair pushed back out of his face, still a little wet from his shower.

He’s wearing starched dark jeans, and a freshly pressed, white pearl snap button shirt with a little paisley pattern on it.

“You look really nice,” I rasp, trailing my eyes up and down his tall figure. Am I obsessed? Yes, no, yes I absolutely am.

“You look beautiful, darlin’,” he rasps.

I smile shyly and look down at my feet.

Killian steps up to me, and lifts my chin, and all I can do is melt into those chocolate pools.

“Stunning,” he whispers as if to himself. He grabs my hands and takes a step back, trailing his eyes up and down my body like he’s trying to note every detail. Then he spins me around and pulls me into his chest.

I inhale a stuttered breath, too speechless.

He smiles so brightly I wish I had a camera to capture it.

“Those are for you,” he says, pointing to the mason jar on the coffee table.

“They’re beautiful, thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” He puffs out a breath and guides me to the dinner table. “Uh, okay, sit here while I finish dinner,” he says with a tinge of nervousness.

He pulls the chair out for me, then he goes back to the stove to check on what he’s cooking. I watch him slip on an old pink frilly apron and tie it at his waist.

He goes out the side door of the kitchen a couple of times, checking the steaks on the grill. Leaning back in my chair, I watch him move back and forth with practiced efficiency, checking on the pots and the oven.

“For the first course, we’re having cheese and crackers. I saw a picture that included fruit like blackberries and grapes, so I put that in here too.”

I nibble on my nail to keep from laughing, and he sits in front of me with the frills on his chest, watching me pick up a couple slices of cheese and some of the blackberries.

“Are you going to have any?” I ask him, still trying not to laugh.

He reaches for a slice of cheese and tosses it into his mouth. There is absolutely no reason my blood should turn to syrup with the action. But my laughter is gone, replaced with longing. He didn’t do anything but … I want him to do it again.

Killian tosses his chin, encouraging me to eat. So I take a bite of the cheese with the berry and sigh as the burst of sweetness accompanies the savory taste of the cheese. I moan a little, and he swallows thickly.

“Good?” he asks.

“Yes,” I rasp. My stomach groans. “I didn’t know I was so hungry.”

He licks his lips and stands. “Dinner is almost ready. But for now, would you like a glass of wine?” he asks.

“Please,” I tell him.

He brushes a hand through his hair and rubs his chin. “So I don’t have any wine glasses because I don’t drink wine.”

I giggle and shake my head. “Killian, just put it in a glass.”

He puffs out a breath. “I know it’s supposed to be in a wine glass because it supposedly makes it taste better.”

“I don’t care,” I say, smiling up at him.

He pours some wine into a short glass and hands it to me.

I take a long drink, hoping it calms my nerves.

“Good?”

He watches me take another sip, and his eyes drop to my lips as I lick the drip of wine from them.

“I like your apron too.”

Killian chuckles and smooths it down. “It was my mom’s. It works like any other apron, so why buy another? I had to protect this white shirt,” he says.

“Makes sense to me,” I rasp.

He goes back to the stove, flips off the burners and then hurries out of the kitchen to the grill.

Returning with two massive steaks on a plate, he takes them to the kitchen counter and puts each on a plate with what looks like a pile of fresh salad, roasted carrots, and potatoes.

He turns with both plates in his hand and sets mine in front of me before placing his own on the tablecloth.

“Wow.”

“Mama did teach me how to cook, but I usually keep it pretty simple.”

I grab my fork and knife, going straight for the steak, and cut a small piece. The moment it hits my tongue, I hum, this is good.

I open my eyes, and Killian is staring at me with his heated ones.

“That good, huh?” he asks with the corner of his mouth tipped up.

“That good. You should try it,” I say, gesturing to his plate.

As odd as it sounds, we can’t stop smiling at each other as we eat, and our feet keep bumping. This is the best date I’ve ever had.

“So what’s your favorite color?” I ask him.

He chuckles and takes a bite. “The one you’re wearing,” he says.

I look down at the lavender dress. “Really?” I ask him.

Killian lifts a shoulder, regarding me like he wants to eat me. “If it were yellow, my favorite color would be yellow,” he says.

“Black?” I offer with a smile.

“Even black,” he grins.

“What’s your favorite color? Wait, no, let me guess,” he says.

I close my mouth, waiting for him to throw a color out there. I don’t think he’ll guess it because I don’t wear it a ton, but I love it.

He rubs his chin, and his lips purse while he thinks. “Pink?”

My eyes widen. “Wow, um, yeah.”

He leans back in his chair with a huge smile on his face. “I thought so.”

“How did you know?” I ask him. Heat pools in my belly, and my skin tingles. Is it hot in here? Did the AC stop working?

“I notice everything about you, little witch,” he says, like it’s a well-known fact that I love the color pink, even though the only time I’ve worn it in front of him was the dress with the flowers on it.

“What’s your favorite food?” I ask him.

He chuckles. “I feel like that’s fairly obvious.”

“Steak?” I guess.

He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. His shirt stretches across his broad chest with the movement, and I watch the buttons struggle to stay together.

“Can I try to guess yours?” Killian asks.

“You can certainly try,” I tell him. There is no way he’ll guess.

“Peaches?” he throws out.

Too shocked to respond, I take another bite of dinner, but realize it’s my last one.

“Am I right?” he asks.

“How did you know that?” I ask him.

“Well, you had a whole bowl of them in your kitchen and then brought them here,” he says, throwing a thumb towards the countertop with my last one sitting on the counter next to the tomatoes.

“And you and your Grams planted peach trees, I assume, to feed your obsession.”

“Yeah, she told me we spent too much money on them, so we might as well grow and sell them.”

He smiles widely and wipes his face with a napkin, dropping it on his plate. “Done?” he asks, reaching for my plate.

I nod, still stupefied that he’s paid this much attention to me.

Killian stands, taking both of our plates to the sink. The tension in the air is so thick I could cut it with a butter knife.

My stomach flutters, and my hands ache to touch him, to feel the heat of his skin against mine. I don’t want to know where he starts and I begin.

“So for dessert, I thought you might like these,” he says on a chuckle, flipping open the freezer and pulls out a box.

My feet move slower than my heart, and I meet him next to the fridge. He got peach popsicles.

“No popsicles.”

“Oh, did I buy the wrong ones?” he asks.

I shake my head and rest my hands on his chest, leaning into him. His pupils blow wide, and the freezer hangs open, wafting cool air over us, making goosebumps rise on my skin in stark contrast to the heat coursing through my body.

I nip his chin and rise to my tiptoes, eagerly pressing my lips on his. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hear the popsicle box drop on the floor. Killian squeezes my ribs and turns us so my back is against the counter.

The freezer door slams, and he lifts me onto the top. My dress bunches up as he pushes his hips between my knees, grabbing the front of my neck and pulling me to his mouth.

Killian groans as I slip my tongue against his, and I tremble with the sound.

“You look like a dream come true,” he grunts, kissing my cheek.

“How is that?” I ask, breathless.

“With my hand around your neck,” he says darkly.

I lean into his hand, and our lips brush. “I want you,” I whisper across his lips.

His eyes flare, and he leans into me, pushing between my legs. “Are you sure? That’s not why I wanted to do this date thing,” he says.

“I know, and yes, I’m sure.”

His mouth meets mine again as if we’re starving for each other.

I moan as the tip of his tongue tickles the roof of my mouth, sending shudders over my skin. My nails dig into his shirt, and he grunts, hips jerking against mine.

My skin feels like it’s burning. There’s too much clothing between us, and he seems to notice the same thing.

“Upstairs?” he asks, skimming his lips down my neck.

“Yes,” I murmur, enthralled with the way his mere touch brings pleasure.

He pulls me off the counter, and our mouths fuse as he carries me up the stairs with his belt buckle pressing into my inner thigh.