Chapter 22
There were many earthly things that Eloise could say were supremely unjust. And one of those was that not every nice, kind, handsome man that takes you on a lovely date where the conversation flowed easily and laughter was shared is meant for you.
Eloise Willow had, like most women her age, many bad dates in her life.
Leaving those bad dates knowing you did not want to see them again was obvious and easy enough.
But after a date like the one she just had with Graham Bledsoe, who had been nothing short of wonderful, to have him walk her up the steps of The Lost Souls House knowing she would not want another date, it felt unfair.
He held her hand and kissed her cheek and she felt nothing but a simple warmth.
It didn't spread throughout her body and tangle into her thoughts like fingers tangling in hair during a passionate kiss.
And his smell, clean and warm, didn't confiscate her senses.
In fact, she swore that another man's smell was weaving around like a ribbon inside of her throughout her date as if he had pressed it inside of her as a reminder.
It wasn't fair that when Graham looked sweetly at her like he'd had the best time, she was looking at him knowing she wasn't the woman for him.
That maybe, she wasn't the woman for anyone.
And maybe that would have been alright in an independant, strong woman kind of way where she knew she didn't need a man to make her feel whole.
But there was a man, who she could feel inside of this very house, who made her feel things she'd never felt before.
Without him she would be whole, of course.
But there was an inkling in her core that knew she'd never feel that from anyone else; cursed or not.
The world was cruel. So many earthly, supremely unjust things.
She closed the old wood door behind her and took in a breath slowly, holding it in her lungs and counting to five before she walked down the floral wallpapered hallway to find Jenson, Ursula, Bess and Taylor sitting around the island playing cards.
Empty plates with pie crumbs littered the island.
A few flickering candles passed their vanilla smell throughout the room.
Bess's face looked brighter than it had in a while as she made a move in their game that pulled a groan from Jenson and a high-five from Ursula.
And Taylor White sat smiling and at ease with cards in his large hand and a sleeping pregnant raccoon in his lap.
A wave of sadness rolled through her.
"Hey you," Ursula's voice touched her and she smiled.
"Hey, guys."
Taylor looked up at her and that sadness pulsed and filled her.
"How was your date?" Ursula asked and she did not miss her dear friend's eyes shift to watch Taylor.
"Yeah, you guys make out?"
Ursula lightly smacked Bess's arm and Jenson said, "Don't answer that," with a narrowed look at his niece, who laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. The relief of Bess joking with her rather than spearing her with her impressively deadly glare was wonderful.
"I will not," she agreed as she sat with them. Taylor's eyes did not waver from her, their piercing blue lighting her up, slowly taking over that sadness that had bloomed like moonflowers inside of her.
"Who's winning?" She asked.
They finished their game as Eloise ate decadent bourbon pecan pie, watching and laughing with them. She joined the trash talking, firmly supporting team Bess and Ursula and throughout it all, she would catch Taylor's smell. It had wrapped around her like it meant to stay, embedded in her skin.
How could something so comforting cause so much sadness?
"Ursula said you need help with refinishing furniture for the cafe?" Jenson asked as they were cleaning up.
"Yeah, I found extra tables and chairs to make a space outside, but they need weatherproofing."
"I have stuff in my truck and some more at one of my sites. Happy to help."
"Thanks. That would be great."
The brushing of Taylor's hand as he handed her a plate made her breath catch. He was washing, she was drying, and her insides thought they were doing something far more than that. She needed to get a handle on herself.
"So did you?," he whispered, his voice low and tickling against her skin.
"Did I what?"
"What Bess asked." The look in his eyes, not teasing, dared her to say yes.
She wondered what he'd do if she did.
She shook her head with a little smile and a shrug, not answering.
His eyes narrowed on her as she refused to answer and then she wiped her hands on the towel before throwing it to Taylor and announcing, "You know what?
I'm not tired. Too much sugar. And excitement.
" Her lips twitched, his eyes narrowed further.
"I'm going to head to the cafe and do some organizing. "
Ursula looked at her surprised. "Right now? It's eleven."
She shrugged. "I need to get out some of this energy." And then she walked out of the kitchen, leaving behind a smirking best friend and a man who went from joking to smoldering quickly enough to give her whiplash.
She did need to burn off this energy and she needed distance from the detective who couldn't have her, but looked at her like he wanted to throw her over his shoulder at the thought of someone else taking her.
So, she scooped up a happy Lady Macbeth who chittered as she put her inside of her large leather tote bag, her masked face peeking out, and left The Lost Souls House as some of that energy, and possibly perimenopausal heat, burned off of her.
An hour later, Eloise was at The Black Cat, the doors locked as she was sorting through inventory with just the lights on behind the bar and lovely instrumental music playing.
Lady Macbeth was asleep under the desk after having eaten three leftover blueberry muffins like any adorable pregnant creature should.
Bess had told her that the crowd issue was still affecting the cafe and they'd had to start turning people away from staying with their coffees and teas and hope for better luck next time.
Tess had even made customers leave their tables once they had been there for over an hour, which made Eloise laugh as she imagined the intense young woman standing next to a table making people uncomfortable until they left.
Sure enough, the numbers were staggering and she needed to figure out how to fix it.
At this point, Shellee had handed over the reigns with peaceful resignation so that she could be fully present with family where she was, so Eloise was prepared to tackle this problem.
A great problem it may be, it was still a problem.
She'd found the silver key a few weeks ago in a small lemon-shaped dish with the nearly rubbed-off words, store room.
After finding a light she frowned as she saw multiple, round wood tables and stacked chairs.
There had been various other odds and ends, a small toolbox and a couple of cans of paint with supplies.
When she pulled one of the tables out and ran a hand over the dust, she'd gotten the idea.
She got to work pulling all of them out of storage, setting them up and getting a visual of how they could fit outside.
She was dusting them off with music guiding her strokes with the white rag when she heard the delivery bell at the back ring.
She frowned and felt suspicion trickle in as no one would be delivering anything this late.
She grabbed her phone ready to call for help and grabbed a hammer out of the toolbox then got onto her tip-toes to look out of the peephole.
Relief along with something else filled her chest.
She opened the metal door and held up the hammer. "I was prepared to use this as a weapon had you been someone else."
Taylor took in the sight of Eloise holding a hammer in one hand and her phone in the other, her auburn hair up in a twisty pile with a polkadot bandanna and overalls with a white tank top.
"I know Carol Weatherby is a nuisance, but violence is never the answer," he said with a smirk.
She waved him inside with a roll of her eyes. "I would never physically harm her," she said setting down the tool. "And as a woman, sometimes violence is the answer."
He turned and all joking was pushed aside when she saw the look on his face.
There was nothing light in the way his blue eyes were staring at her.
It felt physical and she got a whiff of his smell that hadn't ever left her but was now stronger.
She suddenly felt nervous, a heat building up inside of her that came from him, as if she caught it by him looking at her in this way. Why was he looking at her like this?
Then he stepped toward her, his eyes never leaving hers and that heat was getting hotter and suddenly her breathing didn't feel natural. Were her lungs moving unevenly? Was she going to have another hot flash episode?
"Why wouldn't you answer my question earlier?" he asked, his voice low, his eyes pinning her. "And don't ask which one. You know."
"Because it's none of your business, is it?" she said lifting her head and squaring her shoulders, feeling a defiance that he deserved.
He continued advancing on her and she wasn't sure why, but she responded by stepping backwards for each of his steps. Her fight or flight was kicking in and was taking no recommendations from her and then her back was against the tall metal shelves holding bags of coffee and raw sugar.
"Did he kiss you?"
"Would that bother you?"
The look he gave her said it was a silly question.
"Tell me," he said in that low voice that was so soft she could feel it against her skin, as his hand reached up to tuck a wavy strand of her hair behind her ear.
The touch made her knees feel wobbly and her hand gripped the shelf behind her.
The rich smell of dark oily coffee beans penetrated her senses.
"No," she finally whispered back.
"No, you won't tell me or no, he didn't kiss you?"