Page 90 of The Best Thing He Never Wanted

He could see her point, but it still didn’t sit right.

“Honestly, Blane, there’s nothing to worry about. You know that; I’m perfectly capable.”

He tightened his arm around her waist. “I’m not saying you’re not, darlin’. Just wanted to know if there’s something I need to worry about.”

“Well, then I can reassure you that, as far as I know, there’s absolutely nothing.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “And I can honestly reassure you that I don’t need you here for anything.”

He stiffened at that, until she looked up at him with a smile. “And there’s something rather liberating about that for me. I don’t need you in the least, but that doesn’t mean I’m not rather glad that you’re here.”

That made him smile. “You always have to sneak it in sideways like that.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, doing her best to look innocent.

“You know damn well what I mean, Bea. Rather glad. What the hell does that mean?”

He poked her in the side, and she laughed as she wriggled away from him. But when she looked up again, her expression was much more serious.

“I think you know exactly what it means, Blane. But there’s really no point in me saying it out loud.” Her smile returned. “And besides, I’m not as blunt as you are. I tend to sneak things in sideways, as you call it. It must be a British thing.”

“Yeah, that must be it.”

Even as he said it, the joke didn’t work for him. He knew damn well why she didn’t just come right out and say how much she liked having him around. He figured it was the same reason that kept him from saying anything about how much he enjoyed being here with her.

It was going to end all too soon. Admitting how much it meant would only make losing it that much harder. He already knew that.

Chapter Sixteen

Bea sat at the kitchen table with her laptop open in front of her, staring out the window instead of at the screen. She should be working. She’d fallen into the habit of doing a good portion of her client work on Wednesdays, for no particular reason other than that it was the middle of the week.

This morning, she didn’t want to do any of it. Blane’s question kept playing on her mind. Why didn’t she simply give it up? Yes, her clients relied on her, but they could just as easily come to rely on someone else. She didn’t owe them anything, and—

She smiled and pushed to her feet when she heard a car door close outside. Blane had been very mysterious about where he was going this morning, and she couldn’t wait to see what he was up to. He was terrible at disguising his intentions. He’d tried to make out that he had some business of his own to attend to—and she would have understood perfectly if he did—but the way he’d insisted on being so vague about it had made it completely obvious that whatever he was doing, he was doing it for her.

It really didn’t matter what it was. She didn’t need him to do anything. But the fact that he wanted to… Her hand came up to cover her heart. She didn’t have words for how much that meant to her. She hurried outside, eager to greet him, but the little white SUV wasn’t there.

She went to the gate and peered out. He hadn’t parked outside either. She would have sworn she’d heard a car door close, though. Glancing up and down the lane, she saw no one. She looked again, just to be sure. But there wasn’t a soul around. She turned back toward the house and carefully closed the gate behind her. The little shiver of unease that slid down her spine was completely unreasonable, but she couldn’t seem to make the feeling go away. She forced herself not to stop and check on the plants as she crossed the courtyard. She needed to get her work done.

Although the moment she sat back down at the kitchen table, her phone rang. It was Meg. She’d been meaning to call her for a couple of days. Of course, she’d checked in when she and Blane first arrived, just as she’d promised she would, but since then she’d only made time for texts here and there.

“Morning, Meggie love.”

“Good morning yourself. How are things going?”

“They couldn’t be better,” Bea said with a smile.

“You know, at some point, Beatrice Hartley, you’re going to have to tell me more about this Blane of yours. If you don’t, I might have to jump on a plane and come and meet him for myself.”

“I haven’t deliberately been holding out on you. It’s just that…”

Meg laughed. “From the sound of your voice, I can practically see little cartoon hearts floating above your head. Bea, you like him, don’t you?”

She turned to look out the window again. “Like is such a little word for such a big man.”

“Oh my God, Bea. Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Are you saying that you…” Meg stopped herself. “But how can you? You’ve only known the man just over a week and— Actually, forget that. It doesn’t matter, not if you think you’ve fallen in love with him.”

Bea shot to her feet, pressing the phone closer to her ear. “I said nothing of the kind.”

“No, of course you didn’t. I know you didn’t, but I can hear it in your voice. And if like is too small a word, what other word is there? Bea, tell me what’s going on. Tell me all about him.”