Page 61 of The Best Thing He Never Wanted

He pulled forward, taking it a little slower this time. Cash had said something about goats all over the road when they talked last night. Blane had thought he was joking. Turned out, not so much.

The road continued to climb, and when he rounded the next corner, the view opened up in front of them.

Bea pointed higher into the foothills.

“There. That’s my village.”

Blane looked where she was pointing. Then he looked at her. My village. He liked the sound of that coming from her. She’d already claimed this little place on the hillside.

A few minutes later, she was confidently directing him up a steep road past the church and little taverna, between a couple of small stone houses, until they emerged above the village.

“There it is.” The words came out softly, almost a whisper.

Blane followed her gaze.

At first, the place didn’t look much different from some of the other houses they’d passed. It was old stone, with blue shutters and a roof that looked like it had been there a long damn time. From this high up, he figured the view would be something else. Then he frowned when he saw that one of the shutters was hanging loose. That would need fixing. His gaze moved to what Bea had referred to as the garden. From where he was sitting, it looked more like a yard filled with rubble, weeds, and a few wild shrubs.

When he looked back at her, something in her face had changed. She wasn’t bouncing with excitement or talking a mile a minute. She was simply staring at the house, her lips parted slightly, as though she was trying to take in the fact that it was really there. That she was really here. And that was enough to make him smile.

Her phone beeped, and she fished it out of her bag. “Katerina’s on her way over with the keys.”

He frowned. “That’s pretty good timing.”

“She saw us drive past her sister’s house back down the hill.” She laughed. “The one just after the goat.”

He smiled through pursed lips. She wasn’t going to let him forget about the goat—he already knew that. By the time he had their bags out of the back, a dusty white Fiat pulled up beside them. An older woman with gray hair climbed out. Blane hung back as she went straight to Bea, smiling broadly. She wrapped her in an embrace, then stepped back with both hands on Bea’s shoulders and looked her over before nodding as if she approved of what she saw.

“Welcome.”

Bea’s smile was different again. “Thank you. I’m so glad to be here.” She turned toward him. “Katerina, this is my friend, Blane.”

Blane gave her a nod. There was that word—friend—again. Damn. He still didn’t like that. Katerina gave him a long, assessing look. It wasn’t unfriendly, but it was nothing like the warm welcome she’d given Bea.

Finally, she nodded back before turning to Bea. “Here’s your key.” She pressed it into Bea’s hand.

Bea looked down at it for a moment, and Blane could only imagine what she was thinking. Katerina went back to her car and pulled out a basket. “I brought what you need until tomorrow. Milk, bread, cheese, oil, and of course, coffee.”

“Oh, that’s so kind of you. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I didn’t know how late you would arrive.” She glanced at Blane again. “But you’re here now, so I’ll go. You know where I am if you need me.” She touched Bea’s arm, nodded once more to Blane, then climbed back into her Fiat and drove down the hill.

Bea held up the key. “Come on. I want to show you inside.”

He stood behind her as she unlocked the front door. She turned to smile at him over her shoulder as she pushed it open. “I can’t believe I’m finally here.”

“Want me to wait here while you get reacquainted with the place?”

“Oh, that’s sweet of you. But no.” She reached for his hand. “I want to show you.”

She led him down a short hallway and opened a door. As soon as Blane stepped into the room behind her, he understood a whole lot more about why she’d chosen the place. That was a hell of a view. The foothills, covered in olive groves and dotted with villages, stretched away toward the mountains.

In some ways, it reminded him of Montana, but he didn’t say that. This was Bea’s place; he wasn’t about to start comparing it to his. He watched her take in the view, a huge smile on her face.

“Isn’t it fabulous?”

“It is.”

She searched his face, and he nodded. “I might not have the words for it, Bea, but yeah. It’s…” He looked out again. “Breathtaking.”