Page 87 of The Best Thing He Never Wanted

“Why the hell not?”

She studied him closely for a moment, wondering if she’d misread him completely or if he was somehow teasing her.

“Bea.”

That only made her laugh again.

“What? What’s the problem? Brooke loves that movie. I’ve seen the damn thing at least a dozen times.”

“Clearly,” was all she could manage to say.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Whatever. My point is, Richard Gere in the movie—Edward, whatever his name was. He buys companies, breaks ’em apart, sells off the pieces, learns his lesson, ends up climbing a fire escape with flowers.”

Bea’s composure cracked completely. “Yes. That. Exactly that.”

Blane shrugged, completely unbothered. “So you’re saying that’s what Simon did?”

Her smile faded. “Well, the buying and breaking things apart part, at least. I’m afraid there were no fire escapes or flowers. Simon wasn’t the lesson-learning sort.”

“No?”

“No. In the movie, Edward felt a pang of conscience and saved the shipyard. Simon, on the other hand, would have sold the shipyard, sold the land it sat on, made three hundred men redundant and been home in time for dinner without a flicker. He was very good at knowing what a thing was worth in pieces.”

Blane said nothing, just watched her the way he did.

She cut into her fish and stared down at her plate for a moment before adding, “I don’t think it ever occurred to him that something might be worth more whole.”

Chapter Fifteen

Spring was fast turning into early summer. The sun beat down on Blane’s back as he took his morning run. It wasn’t hot yet, it was still too early in the day and in the year for that, but the temperature was picking up by the day. Another couple of weeks and it’d make more sense to run at dawn than leave it this late.

The way his heart pounded at that thought had nothing to do with his pace. He wouldn’t be here in another couple of weeks.

It was hard to believe he’d been here for a week already. In some respects, the time had flown; in others, it felt like he’d already been here for a lifetime—already been with Bea for a lifetime. And as his feet thudded against the blacktop, step after step, he couldn’t help wondering what a lifetime with Bea might have been like. What had she been like as a young woman, eighteen years old when she met that Simon asshole? He wished he could have known her then.

She’d told him so much about the dreams she’d had back then, usually when they were lying in bed talking in the dark. He’d disliked Simon from the little he knew about him before, but after what Bea had told him on the beach the other day, that feeling had edged closer to hatred.

Not that she’d made Simon out to be a bad guy. She hadn’t. She didn’t see him that way, and even if she had, she’d have made excuses for him. Blane knew her that well.

But what he understood now, and he still wasn’t sure Bea understood at all, was that Simon had stolen her dreams from her. Yeah, walking on the beach holding hands was one thing, and after doing it with Bea, he could admit it meant a whole lot more than he ever would have guessed before. But in his mind, it still didn’t compare with the other dreams she’d had as a girl. She didn’t just love gardening. She’d thought it was going to be her career. But Simon had decided his career was more important, and that Bea’s role was to support him. Blane didn’t give a shit how reasonable the man had been about it. He hated that Bea had somehow ended up believing her dreams mattered less.

He looked up, surprised to find himself approaching the main road again after completing his loop around the lanes behind the house. He checked his watch. His pace had been faster than usual, and he didn’t want to go back too early.

He enjoyed these morning runs, and he had a feeling Bea enjoyed them too. He knew she liked having him around, but this was her new home, and he wanted her to have some time in it by herself too. Time to work with her plants, drink her coffee, or do whatever the hell she felt like doing without him there beside her every minute of the day. He smiled when he spotted the bakery ahead. She loved those little baklava things. And he wouldn’t lie, he did too. Stopping would give her a few more minutes to herself, and he could take her something sweet when he got back.

The older woman behind the counter grinned and waved as soon as he stepped through the door. Her gray hair was swept back from her face, and there was something about the way she stood there, completely at home behind her counter, that made Blane suspect she’d been running the place—and everyone who came into it—for a very long time.

“Kalimera,” he greeted her.

She nodded happily and immediately started talking at him. She did that every time he and Bea came in. Bea had a few words she could use in return but, so far, all Blane had mastered was good morning and thank you. That didn’t seem to deter the woman as she chattered away to him as though he understood every word and if he didn’t, he really should by now.

He smiled and nodded, hoping he wasn’t agreeing to anything he’d regret later.

After a while, she laughed, and the sound was so contagious that he joined in even though he still didn’t have a damn clue what she was saying. For all he knew, she could be telling him he was a big dumb fool who didn’t understand a word coming out of her mouth, and here he was laughing and nodding along in agreement.

If that was the case, at least he’d amused her for a while. Didn’t cost him a damn thing.

When he pointed to the baklava, she started filling a paper bag. He figured she must make a fortune off tourists who didn’t know how to tell her how many they wanted. She just kept loading up the bag and apparently sold them however many she felt like.