Page 148 of The Best Thing He Never Wanted

Tanya peered into the truck. “Are you staying for lunch?”

Blane opened the back door just far enough for her to see the pizza boxes.

Her eyes widened. “Mama Bear!”

“Don’t you dare get me in trouble,” Blane warned, already laughing as she took off toward the house.

It was almost two by the time he left, promising he’d be back again soon. He climbed into the truck and glanced at the second pizza on the back seat. These days every time he ate pizza, he thought about Bea and that poor excuse for food he’d been served in London under the name of pizza. Before he started the engine, he took out his phone. She hadn’t answered his last text yet, but he didn’t see any harm in sending another.

Blane: Hey, darlin’. How was your day?

He hit send and waited for a moment, but nothing came back. It was Saturday night in Crete by now. She could be doing anything. He hoped she was doing something fun—getting out and about, building the life she’d gone there to build. He started the engine and headed back down the valley.

~ ~ ~

By the time Bea started closing up for the night, she’d almost managed to convince herself that she’d made too much of the man she’d seen earlier. The trouble with having a boundary line halfway across a field was that anyone working on the other half might not know exactly where it was, and just because she’d seen the same man out in the lane more than once didn’t mean anything at all.

She smiled to herself. She had almost convinced herself to bring Sifis home with her too, though. She didn’t have to officially adopt him. They could give each other a trial run, call it more of a foster situation. But he really was such a dear little thing, and he did seem far less grumpy these days. With her, at least. She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a sigh. Perhaps that was why Sifis had chosen Blane the instant he saw him. They were both a little grumpy, but they mellowed and became rather sweet in the right company. She forced herself back to the moment and went to double-check that the doors were locked, the way she did every night. She paused at the dining room window before closing the curtains. Her garden was starting to come together now. Of course, it would take years to get it exactly how she wanted it, but she was laying the foundations, creating the shapes, doing the parts she could do. The rest was up to the plants.

Upstairs, she went to close the curtains before turning on the bedroom light. It was a silly habit, really. It wasn’t as though she had neighbors across the road who might see her undress. Her mother had ingrained it in her as a child, though, and some habits had apparently survived intact for fifty years. Here, there were only cicadas outside, and she doubted they had any interest in becoming Peeping Toms. Especially not on her.

She let out a short laugh. Rosalind had tried to convince her she’d be lonely here in Crete. But then Rosalind didn’t know how easily Bea entertained herself with all the thoughts that flitted through her mind.

As she reached for the curtain, she stilled when she saw movement down in the courtyard. Her hand tightened around the fabric. It was him. She was sure of it.

She held her breath and watched as he moved slowly across the courtyard. Then her phone beeped on the bedside table, startling a little gasp out of her.

She snatched it up.

Blane: Hey, darlin’. How was your day?

She swallowed. If he’d asked five minutes ago, she would have said fine. Now the man was walking toward her car. Should she call the police? She looked down at the phone again. She should have answered Blane earlier, but the day had got away from her, and she really didn’t want to leave him without a reply until tomorrow. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him about the man. He was thousands of miles away; all that would achieve was worrying him.

So she typed quickly.

Bea: Hi, Blane. I’m fine. Sorry, I got distracted earlier. Hope everything’s going well there.

She hit send and looked back outside. The man was walking around her car now. Her heart hammered harder. Why was he looking at it? Looking inside? Part of her wanted to step onto the balcony and shout at him, let him know she’d seen him and scare him off. But the sensible part of her—the part that had stopped her going out to confront him earlier—warned her not to. She was here alone. Her phone rang in her hand. She jumped badly enough that she almost dropped it, but relief rushed through her when she saw Blane’s name.

She answered quickly, keeping her voice low. “Hello, darling.”

His deep, gravelly voice came down the line. “There it is.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Darling.” There was a smile in his voice, but it disappeared almost immediately. “Your text said Hi, Blane. I thought there was maybe something wrong—” He stopped. “Bea, is there something wrong?”

The man had turned away from the car. He was coming back toward the house now.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

He was quiet for a moment, then his voice changed completely. “Why are you whispering?”

She swallowed.

“Bea. What’s wrong?”

“Remember the man I told you about? The one in the lane?”