Page 62 of The Best Thing He Never Wanted

Her smile softened, and she rested a hand on his arm. “I’m glad you can see it.”

“Not just see it. Appreciate it.”

He followed her through another door into the kitchen. It was functional, had everything it needed. He was a little surprised by how enamored Bea seemed with it. The place was rustic, to put it mildly.

She laughed when she caught him looking around. “Everything works, don’t worry; I did check. At some point, perhaps I’ll upgrade, but for now…” She shrugged. “Like I said, everything works.”

He tried to ignore the exposed wire running across the ceiling to the light fixture in the middle.

“So anyway,” she continued brightly, “this is the kitchen. You’ve seen the living room. We came past the dining room, but I’m not sure I’ll use it as that. Maybe a reading room. I don’t know.” She was already heading for the stairs. “And then upstairs… Come on, I’ll show you. It’s only three bedrooms and two bathrooms. I’m sure you’re not terribly interested in those, but the balcony, Blane. You have to see the balcony.”

He smiled to himself as he followed her upstairs. She pushed doors open on the landing, and he poked his head inside. Two small bedrooms and a bathroom, then she led him into the primary bedroom. At least this part of the house looked as though it had been modernized, and the ensuite bathroom was new.

When Bea pulled the curtains back, he understood why she was so excited about the balcony. She opened the French doors, and they stepped outside. It was a decent-sized space, with a long stone bench built against the wall. The view was even better from up here.

She stood for a moment, seeming to breathe it in, and Blane could understand that too. Cicadas filled the air with their steady hum. The sun was warm, but a breeze moved over the hillside, carrying the scent of something sweet. Flowers, probably. Hell if he knew which ones.

She turned to look up at him. “What do you think?”

He slung an arm around her shoulders. “I think it’s great, Bea. Really great.” He looked out over the hills again. “Think you found yourself a good place here.”

She nodded. “Thank you. I do too.” She gestured toward the bench. “The first time I stayed here, I spent most of my time sitting there, taking in this view.”

“You stayed here before?”

“Yes. It was on the rental market. That’s how I discovered it. Katerina managed it for the owners. Meg and I stayed here a few times.” Her eyes widened. “Oh—wait.”

She disappeared back into the bedroom and came out carrying cushions—a long cream one that covered the stone seat and several more that she propped against the wall until the whole thing looked more like a sofa.

When she caught his expression, she shrugged. “The bench might look very authentic, but you can’t sit there for long without cushions.”

As they made their way back downstairs, he noticed the loose handrail.

“Now for the garden,” she announced when they reached the bottom.

She stepped outside into the sunshine and looked around at what, to Blane, still looked like little more than scrubland with rocks, weeds, overgrown shrubs, olive trees, and God knew what else. But there was no mistaking that this was what she’d really been waiting to show him—she lit up. She started talking about the little fountain she wanted and where different plants might go, pointing out terraces he hadn’t even noticed and explaining what she wanted to keep, what she might move, and what she wouldn’t know until she’d lived with the place for a while.

Her eyes looked greener than he’d ever seen them, and he understood it now. Earlier, she’d pointed toward the hillside and said, That’s my village. Then Katerina had put the key to her own house into her hand. But it was standing out here, in the middle of what would become her garden, that Bea finally looked like she’d come home.

~ ~ ~

The sun was sinking lower in the sky by the time they made it back from the little grocery store at the bottom of the hill. Katerina had stocked them up with the basics, but Bea had really wanted a bottle of wine. She’d thought about champagne, but Blane hadn’t looked particularly interested, and she wasn’t all that keen on the stuff herself. Still, she didn’t want to let the first night in her new home go by without celebrating.

Even apart from that, she would have done fine with bread and cheese for dinner, but it didn’t seem right not to feed Blane something more substantial. Especially after the way British food had failed him so spectacularly last night.

He looked over at her as he brought the SUV to a stop in front of the house. “What are you smirking to yourself about?”

She laughed. “Not smirking. Just hoping to feed you a better dinner tonight than you had last night.” Then it hit her. “Blane, that was only twenty-four hours ago.”

He nodded. “Twenty-four hours and a couple thousand miles.”

She looked up at the house. “And a whole different lifetime.”

He held her gaze for a moment. “I think this place is gonna suit you, Bea.”

“Oh, that’s a lovely thing to say.”

He shrugged. “Just the truth. Come on. Let’s get this stuff inside.”