Page 18 of The Best Thing He Never Wanted

The stricken look that crossed her face hit him harder than it had any right to.

“Oh, Blane. I’m ever so sorry. I didn’t mean—” was all she managed before his hand came down on her shoulder.

He couldn’t help it. He wanted to reassure her and didn’t know another way to do it. “I’m joking, Bea. Teasing. You’re gonna have to get the hang of the way I do that.”

She froze, and he knew why almost as soon as the words were out. Stupid thing to say. There was no need for her to get the hang of anything. A couple more hours this afternoon; then he’d already decided he’d spend what time he could with her at the concert tonight. But after that… That would be it. Once Cash figured out whatever the hell he was doing with the jet, he’d fly home—and Bea would be leaving in the morning, whether she was going straight to Crete or heading home first.

He gave her shoulder a gentle shake. “You’ll never make it through the afternoon if you take me seriously.”

The tension went out of her shoulders under his hand. He should probably take the hand back, but he didn’t want to.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to get used to it.”

He held her gaze, wondering which way she meant it. The smile playing around her lips told him she had more than enough sense of humor to get the hang of his teasing. Maybe it was only wishful thinking on his part that he heard something else underneath the words. That she was sorry she wouldn’t have the chance to get used to him.

Chapter Five

Blane shoved his hands into his pockets as they walked back to the hotel. He kept sneaking glances at Bea while she chattered about her friend Meg and the new baby, whose arrival was the reason Bea had come alone this weekend.

Before they left the museum, she’d had him stand guard outside the gift shop while she went in to look for a couple of gifts for Meg and the baby. The strange thing was that if she hadn’t jokingly told him to stand guard while she shopped, he would have gone in with her. She’d read him right. Under normal circumstances, he’d sooner chop his hand off than wander around a gift shop.

His jaw tightened. Why did this feel so far from normal? He knew the easy answer. It was because of Bea. He snuck another sideways glance at her, but she caught him and slapped his arm.

“I’m rambling again, aren’t I? I’m sorry. But, oh—you know what? I’m going to do it now. Hopefully, it’ll make up for me chattering away at you.”

“Do what?”

She stopped walking and dug through the bag she’d been carrying since she came out of the gift shop. She fished out a small paper bag with the museum logo on the front and held it out to him.

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Come on. Take it.” She waved it at him.

“What’s this?”

“A present.”

His brows drew together. “You got this for me?”

“No, Blane. I regularly hand complete strangers tiny replicas of ancient artifacts.”

He took the bag and peered inside. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to.”

He pulled out the little keychain and looked down at the tiny Rosetta Stone hanging from it.

“It’s the Rosetta thing.”

“Stone, Blane.”

His lips twitched. His mouth had suddenly gone inexplicably dry.

“I thought having one on a keyring might help you remember. Stone.”

He looked up at her. “But why? Why’d you get me a gift?”

She shrugged. “Because I saw it and thought of you. And besides, every granite cliff should have a little stone to keep it company.”