Page 42 of The Best Thing He Never Wanted

“Oh dear.”

He cut himself the smallest possible slice and took a bite, partly because he didn’t want to give up without trying it, mostly because he didn’t want Bea to think he was a miserable bastard. The taste confirmed everything he’d feared. The dough was wrong. The sauce was … he had no idea what the sauce was. He’d carefully avoided the so-called pepperoni this time, but whatever was happening with the cheese wasn’t helping.

He put the slice back down.

“No. Just no.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. We can order you something else.”

“It’s okay. I’ll pass.”

“Oh, come on. I understand that you don’t trust it after the pizza, but here.” She pushed her plate toward him. “Try one of my chips.”

“That’s okay. You need to eat.”

“I’ll never eat all of them. Go on, Blane. Try one.”

“I know what fries taste like.”

She gave him a stern look. “That is not a fry. That is a chip.”

“It’s fried potato.”

She shook her head. “You have so much to learn.”

A short laugh escaped him before he could stop it. The thing was, he had no desire to learn about bad British food. But he did want to learn everything he could about her.

“Go on,” she encouraged, apparently taking his laugh as a sign of weakness. “Try one. Please.”

So he took one, just for her. And he wasn’t about to admit it, but it was good.

Then Bea cut into her fish, took a piece from the thickest part in the middle, and put it on his plate.

“No, Bea. You eat it.”

“I don’t need all of it. Try it. You might be surprised.”

He was. It was good. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d demolished half her chips.

“Still don’t like them, then?” she asked.

He lifted a shoulder. “Still say fries are better.”

She reached across and slapped his hand. “You’re terrible. Do you know that?”

“Just honest.”

~ ~ ~

When they arrived back at the hotel, Blane kept hold of her hand as they walked up the steps. He even drew her closer to his side as they passed reception, where Lauren and Carla spotted them and waved.

Bea looked up at him with a knowing smile. “They flirt with you, don’t they?”

He didn’t answer, at least not with words, but the little grunt he gave told her everything.

“Honestly. You’re such a big, tough guy, but if any real baddies ever needed to defeat you, all they’d have to do is recruit a few flirty women.”

He turned a scowl on her. “That’s not true.”