Chapter Seventeen #2
First there’d been the walk, which of course she’d enjoyed every moment of.
Then the climb back up the hill, which had proven far more strenuous than she remembered and had only made her more determined to get out and walk regularly.
That had been the plan, after all. She’d imagined herself walking down to the village until she got used to driving over here, until she got herself sorted out with a car.
But the exertion of climbing the hill had proven to be nothing compared with the shower afterward. Her cheeks warmed, and she glanced across from the passenger seat at Blane, who looked entirely too relaxed as he drove slowly around the village, searching for somewhere to park.
She really shouldn’t be the one feeling tired after their exertions in the shower—or the bed afterward.
He was the one who’d done most of the hard work.
She couldn’t help smiling at the memory.
By the time they were done, lying there panting and in need of another shower, she’d felt as though all the bones had gone out of her.
Relaxed, in other words. And happier than she could remember feeling in… goodness, who knew how long?
Blane glanced over and smiled. “I know what you’re thinking.”
She let out a short laugh. “What can I say? You have to remember, I haven’t had a love life in who knows how long, and now…” She smiled. “Let’s just say I’m very much enjoying my renewed interest.”
He chuckled. “Good to know. Especially since all I thought you were thinking was that I should park the damn SUV already and we can walk to the market from here.”
She laughed and slapped his arm. She wasn’t sure whether he was joking or had genuinely had no idea where her thoughts had gone, but either way, she loved him all the more for it.
Her breath caught. Loved him? It was simply an expression. That was all.
He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she nodded quickly, not wanting to explain what had just happened inside her own head. “I think you’re right. Oh, look—there’s a space over there.”
She pointed to an empty spot on the other side of the road, then looked at him suspiciously. “And would I also be right if I guessed you have something in mind? Some particular reason you were so keen to come to the market?”
He nodded but didn’t answer as he parked. Once they were out of the car, he came around to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. As they set off toward the market, he gave her a squeeze.
“I want to get you some cushions for that new bench.”
She tightened her arm around his waist. He was such a wonderful man.
They walked down the main street toward the area at the bottom of the village, where market stalls spilled across the side streets and alleyways. Blane waited patiently while she stopped to study some lacework displayed in the window of one of the shops.
When she finally tore herself away, she looked up at him with a smile. “Sorry. We should get down there, shouldn’t we? Let’s cross here.”
She checked for traffic and stepped off the pavement. Or at least, she started to. She didn’t get far before Blane’s enormous arm came down across her, catching her and hauling her back onto the pavement.
“Blane—”
A car shot past them, its horn blaring.
“Oh.” Her hand flew to her mouth. She’d almost stepped straight in front of it because she’d looked the wrong way.
Blane’s lips were pressed into a thin line, and the scowl on his face sent a chill through her.
“Oh my goodness, Blane. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be so stupid. I—”
When she dared look at him again, his expression had already gentled. He wrapped both arms around her and pulled her against his chest.
“Jesus, Bea. I’m not mad at you—you scared me.”
She pressed her face against him. “I’m sorry. I scared me too. That was such a stupid thing to do. I just didn’t…”
“You just haven’t trained your instincts yet. That’s all.” His hand moved slowly over her back. “You looked. I saw you look. You just looked the wrong damn way.”
She let out a shaky breath, and he eased back enough to look down at her. “We have to stop joking about the wrong side of the road and get you used to being on the right side.”
He kept his arm around her as they crossed the road and didn’t remove it while they wandered around the market.
Bea was mortified that she’d almost stepped straight in front of a car, mortified and more than a little shaken.
She knew she’d frightened him too; his face had gone white.
But she pulled herself together. It was behind them now, and she’d simply have to pay more attention until looking the right way became instinctive.
Blane gave her shoulders a little shake as they passed a stall covered with all kinds of ceramics. She smiled when she saw what had caught his attention—garlic graters.
He looked down at her, smiling. “Have you unpacked the one we bought in London yet?”
She frowned. “Do you know what? I don’t think I have. That’s awful. I must get it out when we get back.”
He chuckled. “Knew they weren’t really a thing. Not anything useful anyway.”
She slapped his arm. “Yes, they are. In fact, tomorrow night when we cook, I’ll show you how to use it. It’s really quite ingenious.” Something farther along the stall caught her eye. “Oh, look. There’s something else I’ve been after.”
Blane pursed his lips as she picked up a pestle and mortar. It was a beautiful bright blue glaze and a decent size too.
His eyebrows drew together. “You have a blender.”
She let out a breath. “It’s not remotely the same thing, Blane.”
He took it from her and weighed the mortar in his hand. “Could do some damage with this.”
“It’s for basil, Blane.”
“Still.” He held her gaze, his lips twitching in that familiar little war with a smile.
Except, she suddenly realized, she hadn’t seen him fighting the smiles nearly as much these last few days. They came more easily now. Even his laughter did.
“It’s a kitchen utensil,” she told him. “Not a weapon. Here, I’ll put it back if you think it’s silly.”
He pulled it out of reach before she could take it from him, then held it up to the woman behind the stall. “How much?”
“You don’t need to do that, Blane,” Bea protested.
“I know.” He looked down at her. “But you wanted it until I started joking about it; I’m not going to be the reason you don’t get something you want.”
That shut her up. She watched while he paid. The woman smiled at Bea as she wrapped the pestle and mortar and placed it carefully in a bag.
“Efcharistó,” Bea said.
“Parakaló.”
As they walked away, Bea noticed Blane was scowling again. “What’s the matter now?”
He chuckled. “Nothing. Trying to figure out that parakaló thing. Efcharistó is thank you, right?”
“That’s right.”
“And parakaló is…” His brows drew together. “Sometimes it sounds like you’re welcome, but you use it when you mean please.”
“That’s because I do.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “So, it means you’re welcome, but you use it when you mean please?”
“No, Blane. It means both.”
His frown deepened. “I don’t get it.”
“You don’t need to. You just have to learn it and use it. That’s the way language works, I think.”
“If you say so.” Something else caught his attention. He took her hand and led her toward another stall a little farther down.
She hadn’t expected they’d actually find cushions here, but within a few minutes she’d found the perfect ones for the little stone bench.
“Oh, there’s no need,” she said as Blane reached for his wallet again.
“I know there’s no need.”
She didn’t see it very often, but whenever he smirked like that, it was incredibly sexy.
“Someone much smarter than me told me recently that just because you don’t need something doesn’t mean you can’t want it.”
That fizzy feeling rippled through her chest again as he held her gaze.
She wanted to believe he meant what she thought he did.
But as he turned to pay for the cushions, she let out a little sigh.
Because it didn’t really matter what he meant.
Whatever he wanted or needed—and whatever she wanted or needed, for that matter—didn’t change the one thing neither of them seemed willing to talk about.
In just over a week, he’d be leaving.