Page 27 of The Best Thing He Never Wanted

He slung an arm around her shoulders as they joined the crowd filing out of the arena. The whole way, he was conscious of the clock ticking. The team would be waiting for him. Cash had asked him to check in. He should be thinking about that.

He wasn’t.

All he could think about was the woman tucked against his side and the fact that every step they took brought them closer to the place where he’d have to let her go. When they reached the pickup point, Bea checked the message on her phone and read out the registration number.

Blane spotted the car first. “That one.”

“Of course you found it before I did.”

He ignored that and walked her over, checking the registration himself before opening the rear door.

Bea didn’t get in. Instead, she turned to face him.

“Well.” She smiled up at him. “I guess this is it, Mr. Blane Wilder.”

He had to clear his throat. “Yeah. I guess it is, Bea.” There had to be something he could say. Something better than that. “It’s been great. Thank you.” He swallowed. “I wish I was better with words, but … I’m not.”

Her hands came up to rest on his biceps. “You don’t need to be better with words.” Her fingers tightened slightly before she rolled up onto her toes.

For one suspended moment, he stopped breathing. Then her lips brushed his cheek.

“You’re perfect just the way you are, Blane. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

His throat tightened.

She lowered herself back onto her heels but didn’t step away.

“This might sound silly to you, but it’s true; I’ll always remember you.”

He stared down into those hazel eyes, desperately searching for something—anything—to say that would tell her she wasn’t going to be easy for him to forget either.

Nothing came. And apparently Bea didn’t expect it to. She gave his arms one last squeeze before stepping back.

“Goodbye, Blane.”

“Goodbye, Bea.”

She slid into the back seat, but before the driver could pull away, Blane went around to the window and held out two fifty-pound notes.

The man stared at them. “Mate, that’s—”

“Get her back to the hotel safe.”

“I was planning to.”

Blane held his gaze.

The driver took the money. “Yeah. All right.”

Blane nodded and stepped back.

Through the window, Bea was giving him a look that told him she’d seen the whole thing. He lifted one shoulder. She shook her head, but she was smiling.

Then the cab pulled away.

Bea twisted around in the back seat and raised her hand through the rear window.

Blane raised his, then stood there watching until the cab disappeared from sight. Only then did he become aware of the crowd milling around him again.