Page 80 of A Curse On Black Lake
It’s summer, so it won’t get cold, but when the temperatures drop, they’ll need it. If this goes on that long … I don’t know if I can handle that long.
Getting to my feet, I help him with the other pre-made wall and set it straight so he can screw the two together.
“Do you want me to build some garden beds so you can grow things here?” he asks.
My jaw drops, and he smiles a little, which only serves to make my heart pound and my stomach flip. I love when he smiles. It looks good on him.
“You would do that?” I ask him.
He shrugs and squeezes the trigger of the drill, driving the screw in. “If you want me to, sure.”
“Thank you, but even if I planted now, it wouldn’t produce enough for me to use,” I tell him.
“What about fall?” he asks.
“Anything coming for fall is already sprouting. I would have had to plant it a month ago. Plus, I have to be back at home almost every day anyway because of the apothecary.”
He puts a couple more screws in before tightening the others.
“Have you considered changing your hours?” he asks.
I puff out a breath and look over at Tiny. “Yeah, I’m going to have to,” I mutter. But part of me is relieved because then I don’t have to be there as often.
Our family has been in this town so long, many generations have contributed to a small nest egg, but it also requires that I put money into it too. If I use what’s in it without putting anything back in, I won’t last long. I’m still going to have to change the hours the apothecary is open, and somehow convincepeople that I’m almost as qualified as my Grams. I’ve been trained to be a midwife, but everyone probably thinks I’ll put a hex on their baby the moment they’re born.
“I need to go to the lumber store, get shingles, wood, and some screws,” Killian says, bringing me out of my thoughts.
He tilts his head, inspecting his handy work and I reach over to his shoulder.
“Thank you, Killian. For everything.”
He looks up from his position, and the way he gazes at me makes my knees weak and my body hot. “You’re welcome.”
He stands to his full height, and my hand drops from his shoulder. “I know the goats probably need some cover, so I can get lumber now. The other option is to get them into a stall for the night before I finish it tomorrow. They’re your goats, so you tell me.”
I sigh and hold my hat in one hand while I drag my other through my sweaty hair. I’m tired, and there’s no doubt Killian is too. “Let’s corral them into a stall or two tonight. They’ll be fine.”
After we get the goats bedded down, we get the horses back in their stalls,and walk up the hill to the house.
“I didn’t find anything, by the way. No camouflage or brushing out like someone was trying to cover their tracks,” he says.
“Well, that sucks,” I mumble.
“He’s skilled,” he says, opening the front door for me.
“I guess, but we're assuming he was here for me, and not you.”
Killian pauses. “I suppose so,” he says gruffly, and heads for the stairs without another word.
I watch him disappear from sight, his words rolling around in my head. That’s what scares me. Whoever is after me leaves tracks intentionally, in boot prints, or gifts, and there’s no telling what his next move is.
I look between the stairs and the kitchen. I’m dead on my feet, but my stomach is screaming for food. I could go get a shower, but that would prolong my hungry stomach.
Killian didn’t ask me to make dinner, nor do I think he expects me to. But I’m here. I’m used to cooking for two, so I might as well.
Trudging to the kitchen, I look at what he has in the fridge — some ground beef and venison. I can work with that.
By the time I get the meatloaf done, Killian comes down the stairs dressed in a t-shirt with low-hanging gym shorts. My mouth goes dry as my eyes trail up his muscular body. I’ve made a point not to stare as much as humanly possible, but it’s hard not to. From what I can tell, he doesn’t have a six pack, not that I care, but he’s stronger than an ox, and his cut arms make me all gooey inside, and thosehands. I’ve never been so deeply attracted tohandsin my entire life. What’s wrong with me?
