Page 160 of A Curse On Black Lake
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 therestaurantis 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’tdoanything but … I want him to do it again.
