Page 37 of The Best Thing He Never Wanted

She smiled.

“That’s all it takes.”

Her gaze dropped briefly before coming back to his. “Then perhaps you’ll understand that I’d like to know that you’re enjoying yourself too.”

He didn’t know what made him do it. He held out his hand.

Bea looked down at it, then back up at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Her smile started as she placed her hand in his.

Blane closed his fingers around hers. That was better. He’d been working his way through shoulder touches, a hand at her back, an arm around her shoulders. Seemed he’d finally figured out what he’d been trying to get to.

She looked almost as pleased about it as he was. Which made her look a little embarrassed.

He gave her hand a squeeze and rescued both of them. “So tell me about this house. You bought it, right?”

“I did. It’s wonderful. It’s quite old.”

His brows drew together. “How old?”

“The house?”

“Yeah. What kind of condition is it in? You don’t have to renovate the whole thing, do you?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that. It’s beautiful. Just a little run-down in places. There’s work I can do myself.” Her face brightened. “And I told you about the garden, didn’t I? Well, it isn’t a garden yet, but it will be.”

“You used to be a gardener?”

Her smile faded. “No. It was what I hoped to be, but my life took a different turn.”

Blane wanted to ask if the turn her life had taken instead had been marrying a man he already didn’t much like the sound of. But he let it go, and that surprised him. He wasn’t normally in the habit of letting people off the hook, and Bea was obviously glossing over things. But it was her call. As much as he kept saying it, he meant it—he wanted her to enjoy today.

Not out of some self-sacrificing bullshit, either. He’d already figured out that his enjoyment seemed to come from seeing hers.

“Okay. Garden’s the fun part covered. Roll with me a minute.”

She eyed him warily. “Why do I feel as though I’m about to be interrogated?”

“Just want to know more about the place.”

“Such as?”

“What are the doors and windows like?”

She stared at him before letting out a short laugh. “I didn’t have you down as someone who cared about architectural details.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Bea. I’m not talking about architecture.”

“Oh.” Her smile widened. “Security.”

“Yeah. What kind of locks are there? Who has keys?”

“I have one.”