Page 105 of The Best Thing He Never Wanted

“Might be too small for me. Might be old, dusty and dented, but…”

“But what?”

He was quiet for another moment. “Shit. Your sentimentality must be rubbing off on me.” He reached out and patted the dashboard. “If you think about it, we’ve had some good times in this beat-up little thing. Guess it’s kind of become our car.”

Her eyes prickled so suddenly that for once she was grateful she had to keep them on the road. When she risked a glance at him, he was looking at her. Neither of them said anything. They were getting rather good at that. They both knew the end was coming; neither of them wanted to address it.

~ ~ ~

Blane enjoyed trailing Bea around the little tourist shops in Plakias. She couldn’t remember which one had candles she liked. He knew damn well which one it was, but he didn’t want to spoil her fun as they wandered in and out of the stores along the seafront.

She picked up some thyme-flavored honey in the first one and a couple of tins of olive oil in the second. When she got deep into a conversation about lace in the next store, he wandered away and left her to it. It amazed him that enough people bought all these trinkets to keep so many stores in business. He tended to buy what he needed and leave it at that. He was heading toward the door, where he could stand and take in the view of the sea while he waited, when a circular display of keychains caught his eye and made him smile.

He hadn’t had his own keys out since he’d been here. Hadn’t needed them. But the little Rosetta Stone Bea had bought him was still attached to them, and he already knew that seeing it when he got back home would be like carrying a piece of this—a piece of her—with him.

He turned the display slowly. Most of the keychains were cheap bits of plastic that meant nothing to him. Then he spotted one and grinned. A little metal bee. That was it. Bea would love it. He knew she would. He checked, but she was still deep in conversation with the woman who was trying to sell her lace. A lace tablecloth, by the look of it, which made no sense to him considering Katerina had just given her one. She’d finally remembered to hang that one on the line before they left the house. She’d completely forgotten about it when they got back yesterday, though Blane figured he had to take some responsibility for that. He’d managed to distract her pretty damn well with the extra set of hands he’d brought to Crete.

He smiled to himself, snagged the bee keychain from the display and managed to pay for it without her noticing. The kid behind the cash register slipped it into a plain white paper bag. Blane looked down at it for a second, remembering the little British Museum bag Bea had handed him in London, the museum logo printed across the front. Then she turned around, and he shoved the bag into his pocket.

He was impressed when Bea pulled off the road beside the fish taverna she’d been talking about. She was right; it was much quieter than the places down in town. There was nothing else around, only the small white building with a handful of cars parked outside and a few tables on a terrace overlooking the water.

He took her hand as they walked out onto the terrace.

“What do you think? Is it too warm, or should we sit out here?”

Normally, he was the kind of guy who’d sit inside in the shade, but he knew she loved a view of the water and, if he wanted to be honest about it, the view affected him too. The turquoise sea, the little fishing boats bobbing below and the barren hillsides descending steeply around them, hiding the rest of civilization from sight, made this feel like somewhere he wanted to make the most of. As he led her toward a table beside the balustrade over the water, he admitted to himself that what he really wanted to make the most of was these last few days with her. He hadn’t lied when he told her that seeing her happy made him happy.

As soon as they were seated, a waiter appeared, and it struck Blane again that people here were genuinely warm and friendly. The guy joked with them about ordering a bottle of wine and staying long enough to enjoy the sunset and the romantic view. Even as Blane laughed with him, he snuck a glance at Bea and figured they might just do that. It was late in the afternoon already, and he knew damn well she’d enjoy it.

She ordered their usual bottle of sparkling water for the table, and they sipped it while they waited for their food. Down in the little cove below, a family was playing at the water’s edge, the kids running in and out of the shallows.

Bea laughed as she watched them. “It’s always lovely to see families like that, don’t you think?”

“I guess.”

She turned to meet his gaze. “Family for you is just you and your sister?”

“That’s right. I should give Brooke a call at some point soon.” He looked back at the family below. “And you? There’s just you and your sister, right?”

For the first time, it occurred to him that he probably should have asked more about Bea’s family but it hadn’t felt necessary. He felt as though he knew who she was; he didn’t need to place her inside a family tree to know she was a special lady.

“That’s right.”

“And she’s older than you. Rosalind, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

He frowned. “But you’re not close.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because if you were, you would’ve told me all about her.”

She laughed and swatted at his arm. “Are you saying I talk too much about the things I like?”

He caught her hand and held on to it. “All I was saying was that you would’ve told me more about your sister if the two of you were close. But now that you mention it…” He smiled. “Yeah. You talk too much.”

Her eyes widened, and he tightened his grip on her hand.