Chapter Eight #2
Something about the smile she gave Blane sat wrong. It was like she was trying to bring him in on a joke at Bea’s expense. Like she understood what a pain in the ass this must be for him, even if Bea didn’t.
He stepped closer and put his arm around Bea’s shoulders, took the little ceramic thing from her, and studied it again.
“It’s okay, I guess, but I saw some of these back there. We should check those before you buy this one.”
Bea’s eyes widened.
He caught it immediately. “But if this is the one you want, get this one.”
She studied him for a second, then the woman, then set the grater down. “No. Let’s look at the others.”
As she allowed Blane to steer her back into the crowd, she asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
He knew he’d seen the things somewhere farther back, and for some reason he really didn’t want Bea buying one from that woman. He kept his arm around her shoulders, taking the risk that she might object.
“Just had a feeling she might be trying to rip you off.”
Bea laughed and slapped his arm. “You mean you were uncomfortable because she was flirting with you?”
Damn. So she’d noticed. He stopped dead, ignoring the people who had to change course around them.
“Wasn’t uncomfortable for me. Didn’t like that she was talking to me over your head.”
“Oh.” Her smile softened. “You’re very sweet, aren’t you?”
“Never been accused of that before.”
“Then I suppose you haven’t spent enough time around people who understand you.”
He wasn’t about to tell her that he did his best not to spend much time around people at all.
They found the stall where he’d spotted those little ridged dishes earlier. Bea picked one up and immediately started comparing it with another, apparently having forgotten that five minutes ago she hadn’t even known she needed one.
Blane took the one she seemed to like best from her hand.
“Is this the one? I’ll get it.”
“You most certainly will not.”
“Why?”
“Because I can buy my own garlic grater.”
“I know.”
“Then give it back.”
“No.”
“Blane.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
“I don’t need you buying things for me.”
“I know that too.” He looked down at the little painted dish. “I want to.”
That stopped her.
“Something for the new house,” he added.
The expression on her face changed, and for a second, he wondered if he’d screwed up.
Then she smiled. “Well. In that case, thank you.”
“Welcome.”
The older guy running the stall wrapped the grater carefully in tissue paper, and unlike the woman at the other place, gave Bea his full attention while she asked him a couple of questions about his work.
Blane liked him better.
Once it was packed safely away, Bea wandered on, and Blane was content to let her. After a while, she led him toward a coffee shop, where they found a table outside.
As he sat there watching her settle into her chair, it struck him again just how easy this was: hanging out with her, doing nothing in particular, talking about nothing much, just … being. It wasn’t something he could remember experiencing with a woman before.
He liked it.
“Is this terribly boring?” she asked after he’d taken his first sip of coffee.
“No.”
“Honestly?”
“I’m enjoying it.”
She stared at him for a moment. “Well, I don’t quite know what to say to that, other than I’m very pleased that you are.”
“I can see that.”
She smiled.
“That’s all it takes.”
Her gaze dropped briefly before coming back to his. “Then perhaps you’ll understand that I’d like to know that you’re enjoying yourself too.”
He didn’t know what made him do it. He held out his hand.
Bea looked down at it, then back up at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Her smile started as she placed her hand in his.
Blane closed his fingers around hers. That was better. He’d been working his way through shoulder touches, a hand at her back, an arm around her shoulders. Seemed he’d finally figured out what he’d been trying to get to.
She looked almost as pleased about it as he was. Which made her look a little embarrassed.
He gave her hand a squeeze and rescued both of them. “So tell me about this house. You bought it, right?”
“I did. It’s wonderful. It’s quite old.”
His brows drew together. “How old?”
“The house?”
“Yeah. What kind of condition is it in? You don’t have to renovate the whole thing, do you?”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. It’s beautiful. Just a little run-down in places. There’s work I can do myself.” Her face brightened. “And I told you about the garden, didn’t I? Well, it isn’t a garden yet, but it will be.”
“You used to be a gardener?”
Her smile faded. “No. It was what I hoped to be, but my life took a different turn.”
Blane wanted to ask if the turn her life had taken instead had been marrying a man he already didn’t much like the sound of.
But he let it go, and that surprised him.
He wasn’t normally in the habit of letting people off the hook, and Bea was obviously glossing over things.
But it was her call. As much as he kept saying it, he meant it—he wanted her to enjoy today.
Not out of some self-sacrificing bullshit, either. He’d already figured out that his enjoyment seemed to come from seeing hers.
“Okay. Garden’s the fun part covered. Roll with me a minute.”
She eyed him warily. “Why do I feel as though I’m about to be interrogated?”
“Just want to know more about the place.”
“Such as?”
“What are the doors and windows like?”
She stared at him before letting out a short laugh. “I didn’t have you down as someone who cared about architectural details.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Bea. I’m not talking about architecture.”
“Oh.” Her smile widened. “Security.”
“Yeah. What kind of locks are there? Who has keys?”
“I have one.”
He gave her one slow blink.
She laughed. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s a perfectly lovely little village. It’s safe. Everyone’s very friendly.”
“You know your neighbors?”
“I’ve waved to them.”
“Bea.”
“What? I’ll get to know them. There are community things that go on in the village, and the shopkeepers are lovely. I chat to them whenever I’m there.”
“How far away is it—the village?”
“About a ten-minute walk.”
“Walk?”
“Yes, Blane. I have legs. And feet. I use them.”
His brows drew together.
She laughed. “I know your friend Cash would approve.”
It took him a second to remember Cash’s voicemail telling him to get his ass out of the hotel and use his feet.
“That’s not the same thing. What kind of transportation do you have? Tell me you have a car.”
“I’ll get one.”
“You don’t have one?”
“I’m not entirely sure about driving on that side of the road yet. Besides, as I said, it’s only a ten-minute walk to the village. I can get everything I need there.”
He let out a breath through his nose.
“Honestly, Blane, I’ll be fine. You don’t need to conduct a security assessment on my entire new life. I’ve had this arranged for ages. Everything’s going to be wonderful.”
“That sounds more like a prayer than a plan. Do you even speak Greek?”
She tried to hide her smile and failed.
Blane found himself smiling back despite the fact that he disliked pretty much every answer she’d given him so far.
“I’ll pick it up quickly. I know the basics. Hello, goodbye, thank you. And I used to be good at languages when I was younger.”
“That’s supposed to be reassuring?”
“It is, actually. And most people seem to speak English anyway. I’ll get by.” She frowned. “Although I don’t want to be one of those dreadful foreigners.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know. The ones who move to another country and expect everyone there to speak English for them. And if they aren’t understood, their solution is simply to say the same thing again, only louder.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be one of those.”
He could see that. Bea would want to learn the language. She’d want to know her neighbors, talk to the people in the stores, figure out how things were done instead of arriving and deciding how she thought they ought to be done.
He knew the other kind. There were plenty of them in Montana these days. People who moved there because they loved what it was, then started complaining about the very things that made it that way. They brought their own ideas with them and expected the people who’d always lived there to adapt.
Bea wouldn’t do that. She noticed the people around her. More than that, she cared about them. That’d serve her well wherever she landed. It’d definitely serve her well in Montana.
~ ~ ~
It was a beautiful day as they wandered away from the coffee shop. The sun warmed Bea’s back whenever it slipped out from behind the clouds. She tended to think of London as a gray city, but there was nothing dreary about it today.
“Is there anything at all you’d like to see?” she asked Blane as they left Covent Garden.
He lifted one shoulder. “I’m good. I meant what I said—that’s not the point of today for me.”
She smiled. “Nor for me, if I’m honest. I just hate for you to miss your chance to see London while you’re here.”
“I’m seeing it while we walk.” He pointed ahead. “Isn’t Soho that way? I’ve heard of that.”
“It is. We can just wander, if you like. There’s plenty to look at.”
He met her gaze and held it. “That’s the way I see it.”
“I imagine London’s very different from where you live.” She moved closer to him as they walked to avoid being bumped by people who all seemed determined to go in the opposite direction.
His arm came around her shoulders, and she immediately felt as though she was back in the lee of the large granite cliff he claimed to be, sheltered from everything moving around them.
“You’d be surprised. A lot of the work we do takes us to big cities. But if you mean Montana, yeah. Couldn’t be more different from this. The number of people walking down this street would populate a whole town back home.”
She smiled. “I can’t imagine that. I believe Montana’s beautiful. I’d have thought more people would want to live there.”
“Seems like more and more do these days. Not all of them survive the winters.” His mouth twitched. “We get a lot because I’m right by Yellowstone National Park. You heard of that?”