Page 161 of A Curse On Black Lake
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 isgood.
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.
