Page 146 of The Best Thing He Never Wanted

Blane shook his head.

“And listen,” Cash went on, his expression turning more serious. “I’ve been thinking—Crete might be a better place than we realized for the training.”

Blane scowled at him. “Leave it, Cash. I know you care, and I appreciate what you’re doing, but sending me back there isn’t going to magically persuade Bea to come back here with me.”

Instead of laughing it off, Cash held his gaze. “I know, bud. I get that.” He paused. “But I hate seeing you miserable.”

Blane frowned. He wasn’t miserable. He enjoyed being around Cash and the others.

Cash must have read that in his face, because he sighed. “All right. I take it back. Maybe not miserable.”

“You mean, no more than usual.”

That earned him a laugh.

“I don’t see why you should have a problem with it anyway,” Blane went on. “You don’t call me and Mav Grumpy and Grumpier for no reason.”

“No, but I’m not joking this time, bud.” Cash leaned forward. “I think you should go back and see if that terrain is going to work for what we need.”

Blane turned to look out the window, but the bakery was so crowded he couldn’t see much beyond the people moving past it. He dropped his gaze instead.

Cash grasped his shoulder. “I’m serious about the terrain. But I’m more serious about you.” His grip tightened briefly. “You left unfinished business over there. I think you should go back and either finish it or figure out how to keep it going.”

Blane could only nod. He didn’t know what else to do.

He hung around for a while after that, following the conversations around him even if he didn’t join in much. Everyone seemed to be doing well. They were all getting together for lunch at the MacFarland place on Sunday, and he made an excuse when Deacon asked if he was coming.

Before he could leave, Harper came around to have a word with him. She told him that Tanya and Alana had been complaining that they hadn’t seen Uncle Blane in a while and they missed him. He promised he’d stop in to see the girls soon, even if he didn’t make it to lunch on Sunday.

By the time he left the bakery, he was ready to go home. And as he climbed into his truck, it hit him that Cash was right—he didn’t have a home here. He had his rooms down at Mav’s ranch, where they’d moved the security teams. And granted, they were bigger than most of the others, and comfortable enough. But they were still far from a home.

He could go up to the house in town, the place that had been home when he was a kid, but that was Brooke’s place now. No matter how often she told him she wanted him there, it wouldn’t work. He could visit. He’d always be her big brother, and she was right—they were their own little family. But that house hadn’t been his home since he was eighteen. And that was the difference, he realized. He belonged here. He belonged to these people. But the place he thought of when he thought of home now was a little stone house on a hillside in Crete, with a garden taking shape around it and an Englishwoman inside who talked too much.

He smiled despite himself. Then he took out his phone.

Blane: Hey, darlin’. I miss you.

He stared at the words for several seconds, and then deleted them.

Blane: Hey, darlin’. Saw Brooke this afternoon. Is it okay if I give her your address? She wants to send you a thank you card for the baklava.

It’d be the middle of the night in Crete, but he still watched the screen for a while, hoping that the dots might appear. They didn’t. And when the screen eventually went dark in his hand, he started the engine. Hopefully he’d hear from her tomorrow.

~ ~ ~

When she arrived back from her visit to the shelter on Saturday morning, Bea was feeling rather pleased with herself. She was helping out and making herself useful on her visits there, and she was doing a lot of the dirty work. She didn’t mind cleaning out the pens, unlike some of the other volunteers. But if she were honest, little Sifis was the reason she’d been going back so often. And this morning, he’d been out in the big yard with all the other dogs when she arrived.

She smiled as she parked the car. The little mite had come running to her, wagging his tail. Sabine and the woman who worked in reception had both smiled and given her meaningful looks. Sabine had even told Bea that she was his person now.

As she closed up the car and went to unlock the front door, she was debating with herself again. Sabine had already told her that if she wanted to adopt him, it would be the best outcome Sifis could hope for. And over the last few visits, she’d already talked Bea through most of the practical concerns that had made her hesitate. The biggest was that she wouldn’t be here all the time. She’d have to go back to the UK sometimes. But Sabine had said Sifis could come and stay at the shelter for free whenever Bea had to travel. And honestly, that had been her only real obstacle. He was such a dear little thing.

She set her bag on the counter and took out the small bag of baklava she’d bought that morning. She planned to go back for another, much larger bag on Monday, which she would post to Blane and Brooke again. She still needed to answer his text and send him her address for Brooke. He’d sent a photo of the two of them together the other day, and she now felt as though she knew Brooke in some small way, too. It was silly really, but she’d started replying to his messages only when she thought there was a possibility he might see it and reply there and then.

The rest of her day was set aside for a little housework. She wanted to wash the covers from all the outdoor cushions, so she ran upstairs to get the ones from the bench on the balcony. When she stepped out through the French doors, she hesitated. There was a figure out by the shepherd’s hut. It wasn’t Pericles. No. It was definitely a person. She peered out, as though that would somehow give her a better view. If she had to guess—and she probably shouldn’t, since it could just be her imagination—the man out there really did look like the same one she’d seen standing in the lane a few times now. She frowned, her indignation rising before caution had a chance to catch up with it.

If he was the man claiming an interest in the land, why on earth hadn’t he simply come and spoken to her in the first place? Even if he’d chosen to go through lawyers, he could have arranged to meet with them present. It wasn’t right to keep lurking around like this. And if he thought he could intimidate her by frightening her, well, she wasn’t going to let him. It was unnerving. She wouldn’t deny that. But she went back inside and hurried down the stairs. Perhaps he’d be perfectly open to talking like a rational human being if she gave him the chance.

She made it as far as the gate and stopped. By then, some of the indignation had drained away, leaving enough room for caution to return. She didn’t actually know that he was the man involved in the land dispute—he could be anyone.