Page 23 of The Best Thing He Never Wanted

“You did it!” Meg let out a little squeal. “I’m so proud of you. You’ve always hated that case Simon foisted on you. Did you buy something wonderful? Something you absolutely love?”

“I did. It’s perfect.” Bea looked toward the stage as the lights began to dim. “Oh, listen, Meg. I’m going to have to go. The lights are dimming. The music’s about to start in a minute, and I won’t be able to hear you.”

“Okay, my love. I’ll let you go. And thanks for telling me. I was a little worried after we spoke earlier.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so cagey. I was just a little thrown by everything.”

“Well, if this Blane turns up later, let him throw you over his shoulder and carry you away into the night.”

She laughed. “I hardly think so. I was never that wild, even before Simon.”

“Exactly. So you’d better start making up for lost time now. We’ll talk soon?”

“I’ll call you when I get to Crete.”

“Call me tomorrow if there are any developments.”

“All right, I will. Bye for now.”

“Bye, Bea. Love you.”

She slipped her phone back into her purse and glanced at the space behind her. She might not be wild enough to let a man she barely knew throw her over his shoulder and carry her off into the night—even if he wanted to—but she had promised herself she’d dance tonight. There was no reason not to.

She smiled at her neighbors when they arrived to take their seats just before the first act came out onstage. They were good, and by the second song she was dancing in her seat. When the band left the stage, her neighbors turned to chat with her, sharing stories about the line-dancing sessions they’d been to that afternoon. They were nice, fun people; she enjoyed them. Though it still didn’t stop her from checking Blane’s dark corner every now and then.

She hoped he’d appear soon. But even if he didn’t, he’d already been the highlight of her weekend, and the weekend wasn’t over yet. She was determined to enjoy the rest of it, for herself. She didn’t need to make it about an enormous, grumpy American.

As she’d told herself on the first night, the good times and the good music were guaranteed.

Good company wasn’t.

Chapter Six

By the time Blane left the team, he was equally grateful to Cash for nagging him into it and pissed at him for costing him the start of the evening with Bea.

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw as he marched down the concourse. It wasn’t fair to be mad at Cash, and he knew it. He’d blown things with Bea all by himself before Cash ever called. But that wasn’t the point. He could maybe have salvaged it. Could have gone to reception, asked them to get a message to her about …

What the hell was he even thinking? It didn’t matter. He hadn’t done it. But he was here now.

As he pushed through the doors and headed toward his usual spot, he realized he was assuming she’d be here. Taking it for granted. But she’d told him herself that she was here all three nights, so it wasn’t an unreasonable expectation. The moment he was through the doors, he looked over—and something settled inside him when he spotted her. She was dancing in her seat again, looking as though she’d pretty much forgotten she was here alone. But that was the way it went. A single night was an anomaly. Over three nights, she’d had the chance to settle into it, get familiar with her surroundings and … Why the hell was he running an assessment on her?

He didn’t need to do that. In fact, he glanced back at the dark corner behind him. He didn’t even need to do this. The team knew he was here now. They’d given him shit—in the best way—for not letting them know sooner but they were glad he’d come. And …

He looked over at Bea again.

Why the hell not? He only had the next couple of hours to make the most of her company. He wouldn’t even get to ride the tube back to the hotel with her afterward, thanks to Cash.

So he straightened his hat and stepped out of the shadows.

He was going up there. He’d just have to trust that she wouldn’t mind him taking that empty seat beside her. Maybe with him there for company, she’d feel brave enough to get up and dance the way she obviously wanted to. He could stand in the corner and watch over her, guard her drink, do what those guys up there were already doing while their women danced.

But as he made his way toward her section, his stride faltered. She was getting down from her barstool. He waited. Maybe she was heading for the ladies’ room—he could catch her out on the concourse.

But no. The band had just launched into one of their biggest hits, an upbeat number even he knew, and Bea joined the little group of women in the space behind her seat.

She was dancing.

He could feel the smile spread across his face and let it stay. He was proud of her. She’d found the courage all on her own. He marched on. She hadn’t needed him for it—but he could still stand in the corner and watch. He slowed as he approached. It was easy to see that she was having a great time, dancing uninhibited, laughing, and singing with the women around her. He almost turned away, not wanting to interrupt. But she spotted him, and the way her eyes lit up pulled him forward.