Page 47 of The Best Thing He Never Wanted

“How soon can it be ready?”

Chapter Ten

Bea watched the hotel disappear through the rear window until there was nothing left to see. Then she turned around and settled into the seat, and one fat tear escaped from beneath her lashes before she could do anything about it. Her hand came up to cover her mouth. She wasn’t even going to tell herself off for being ridiculous. She might only have known Blane for a handful of hours scattered across a few days, but that man had touched her heart, even if she still couldn’t have said exactly what it was about him. She dabbed at the tears that followed the first and thought about the list she’d given Meg.

American. Enormous. Security. Grumpy. Former Navy SEAL.

She could see now why the list had intrigued her friend so much. But not one of those words came anywhere close to doing justice to the wonderful, kind, if decidedly dour man she’d said goodbye to last night.

Her darling. She closed her eyes; he wasn’t hers. But for a few precious hours, she’d been allowed to call him that.

By the time the car reached Heathrow, she had herself mostly under control again. She was tired, her eyes probably looked dreadful, and her heart still hurt, but none of that changed what she was doing. Crete was right. That was what mattered. She could miss Blane and still know that. She could wish things had been different and still get on the plane. The life waiting for her was the one she’d chosen, and she wasn’t going to let sadness make her doubt it now.

By the time she joined the bag-drop queue, she’d settled back into the practicalities. She had her passport, boarding pass, and luggage. All she still needed to do was drop her bag, head through security, then get a coffee, preferably an enormous one. Then she’d be on the flight, and on the other end of it was her new house, her new garden—her new life.

She was three from the front when she heard him.

Just one word, low behind her in the queue of strangers, in a voice she’d spent the night trying not to hear in her head.

“Darlin’.”

She closed her eyes as the word went straight down her spine. His voice. That ridiculous missing g. The low, rough way he had of saying the word as though it belonged somewhere deep inside him before he let it out.

Her knees actually weakened. The sensation carried right through her, all the way to the soles of her feet, and for one absurd second, she was grateful she had hold of the handle of her suitcase.

She didn’t turn around. Not yet. Because the voice was one thing. Turning around would make the rest of it real. It would mean he’d come. It would mean the thing they’d sensibly ended only hours ago was refusing to stay ended.

“That’s not fair either,” she said to the departures board. “You said we were saying goodbye.”

“Changed my mind.” A pause. “Turns out I’m no good at it—the goodbye part. And besides, I wasn’t ready to lose the only person who says the whole word.”

She turned around, and there he was, big and grim and looking like a man who hadn’t slept, even though he was clean-shaven and dressed for the day. His hands were in his pockets, his hat was pulled low, and his expression was as unreadable as ever. Except she could read him now, at least a little. Her heart did something so undignified she was grateful it couldn’t be seen.

“You—” She stopped and tried again. “What are you doing here? I’m about to check in. I’m three from the front.”

“Yeah. Saw that.”

“What if I’d already gone through security?”

“Then I’d have come after you.”

She blinked. “They wouldn’t have let you through. Not without a ticket.”

“Would’ve bought one.”

Something turned over in her chest. “You’d have bought a ticket? You’d have got on the plane? Come with me?”

“Nope.”

The answer came so easily that she stared at him.

“Don’t fly commercial.”

“Then why would you buy a ticket?”

“To get through security.”

“And then?”