Chapter Eleven #3
She laughed. “Those things. The skewers.”
His brows drew together. “Then why not just call them skewers?”
She slapped his arm. “Because these are Greek skewers, and their name is souvlaki. That’s why. They don’t speak American either.”
He let out a short laugh. “Fair enough. Wouldn’t want to be one of those foreigners, would I?”
“Exactly.”
They ate mostly in silence, taking in the view and, in Bea’s case at least, enjoying the food. When she glanced over at him, Blane seemed to be enjoying it too.
He caught her gaze and nodded. “This is damn good. I don’t know about insane, I’d say it was pretty smart to move somewhere you can eat like this and get away from all that bad British food.”
“Blane.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m allowed to have an opinion.”
“You most certainly are. And I think I only mind so much because you’re probably right.”
“Don’t want to push the point, but it’s one of the things you Brits are known for.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Bad food? Really?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. You guys are notorious for it.”
“Oh, I had no idea.”
He caught hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Probably because most people don’t push the point. Apart from the food, you guys are all right.”
That made her laugh. “Well, thank you. Now I feel special.”
His expression changed. He leaned back in his chair and reached across to touch her cheek. “I’m only teasing, Bea. You are special. To me. Hope you know that.”
She covered his hand with her own. “It seems strange to say it after such a short time, but I do know it.” She held his gaze. “And you’re special to me too, Blane.”
Something in his expression shifted.
“Four days ago, I didn’t even know you existed,” she said softly. “And somehow that doesn’t seem to matter.”
They sat there for a long moment, looking at each other. Then he pulled his hand away, cleared his throat, and pushed his chair back. When he stood, he took his phone out of his pocket. “I should get going.”
“Going?”
He looked at her.
“Going where?”
For one awful moment, she thought he meant back to the airport. That he was going to get back on the jet and disappear again. She was on her feet before she knew what she was doing.
“To the place Cash got me.”
She stared at him. “I’m sorry. Say that again.”
“The place Cash got me.” His eyebrows rose. “It’s not far from here.”
“You have somewhere else to stay?”
“Course I do.”
Of course he did. The thought should have been obvious, but somehow it hadn’t been. She’d spent the afternoon showing him around, then they’d gone shopping together and brought dinner home. Somewhere along the way, she’d simply stopped thinking about what happened next.
Apparently, Blane hadn’t. “I asked him to get me some place simple nearby. This is what he came up with.”
He tapped at his phone and held it out to her. She took it and then blinked. The photograph on the screen showed a huge white villa spilling down the side of a hill toward an infinity pool, with the sea stretched out beyond it. She swiped to the next one. Then the next.
“Blane.”
“Yeah?”
“This is what Cash considers simple?”
“No. This is what Cash considers ignoring instructions.”
“It has an infinity pool.”
“Saw that.”
“And…” She swiped again. “How many bedrooms does this place have?”
“Too many.”
“Four?”
“Yeah.”
“Three terraces.”
“Apparently.”
“And is that an outdoor kitchen?”
“Looks like it.”
She looked up at him. “You asked him for this?”
“I asked for somewhere nearby. Nothing fancy.”
“Blane, that pool is bigger than my entire garden.”
“Cash is an asshole.”
She laughed.
He took the phone back and slipped it into his pocket.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll be very comfortable.”
“Probably.”
She followed him back inside, and when he reached for his duffel, something inside her dropped.
That was ridiculous. Of course he had somewhere else to stay.
He’d come to Crete because she’d let him, not because she’d invited him to move into her house.
They hadn’t even kissed. And perhaps that was exactly why she hadn’t thought this part through.
He slung the bag over his shoulder. “I’ll come by in the morning.”
“You will?”
His mouth twitched. “Extra set of hands.”
She smiled, but the feeling in her chest didn’t ease. He was really leaving. Not leaving Crete. Not disappearing back to Montana. He was going to a ridiculously luxurious villa a few minutes away. That shouldn’t matter, but it did.
“Blane?”
He stopped and looked back at her.
“You could stay here.”
He went still. Not dramatically. He simply stopped moving, one hand still curled around the strap of his bag.
“You want me to?”
There it was. Not, Do you need me to? Not, Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own? But, You want me to?
“Yes.”
His gaze stayed on hers.
She swallowed. “There are three bedrooms. I’m not suggesting anything else. I only mean…” She stopped herself. She didn’t need an excuse. “I’d like you to stay.”
For a second, he didn’t say anything. Then he nodded. “Okay.” He took the duffel from his shoulder and set it back down.
And something inside Bea settled with it.