Chapter Nineteen #3
He was tempted to make a joke, to get past the moment, but he had nothing.
“I imagine she’s thrilled to have you living back in Montana after all this time.”
“Yeah. She’s glad I’m around, but she has her own life. She always has something going on with work and friends and…” He shrugged.
Bea smiled. “Anyone special?”
He scowled. “Better not be Brody.” He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
Bea’s eyebrows rose.
“Long story. He’s a good guy. We’ve known him forever. She had a thing for him when she was seventeen.”
“And?”
“And he was twenty-eight.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah.” He jerked his chin toward the horizon. “Don’t want to miss the last of the sun.”
~ ~ ~
Driving back to the house, Blane understood why Bea had wanted to get home before dark.
There were no streetlights, few road markings, and plenty of places where steep drop-offs ran close beside the road.
Even the last stretch, through the village and up the narrow, winding lane to the house, wasn’t difficult, but he hated the thought of her driving it alone.
When he pulled through the gateway, he decided once and for all that he was going to get a damn gate hung there.
It didn’t seem right to him that the opening stood empty like that.
Once he’d parked, Bea turned to him, looking a little concerned.
“What?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing. You’re obviously not happy about something, but I don’t want to joke in case this time it’s something serious.”
He deliberately drew his eyebrows together into a deep scowl.
She laughed and swatted at his arm. “Oh, good. I know that’s not a real scowl—so, it’s nothing serious, is it?”
“Matter of fact, it is.”
Her smile disappeared. “Oh no. What?”
“Just thinking about you driving these roads in the dark by yourself.”
There it went, that flash of sadness in her eyes again. He hadn’t meant to cause it, but there was no avoiding the fact that in a few more days he’d be gone and she’d still be here, driving these roads by herself.
He reached over and rested his hand on her shoulder. “I know, Bea. I hate it too. But I have to go.”
“I know. I’m sorry, and I didn’t say anything.”
“I know you didn’t. I didn’t mean to either, but…”
“It’s okay. You’re right. And honestly, Blane, you don’t need to worry about me driving in the dark, because I simply won’t.”
He nodded.
“I thought you’d be pleased.”
“I want to be, but I hate that it means you won’t be able to sit somewhere and watch the sunset.”
“I will. I’ll be able to watch it from right here.” She reached for the door handle. “Come on. Let’s go and get a drink, shall we? I wouldn’t mind another glass of wine, and I think you’ve more than earned yourself a glass of whiskey tonight, don’t you?”
“I don’t know about earned it, but I’ll take one, yeah.”
As soon as they got out of the SUV, something snagged at Blane’s attention. He stopped and looked around the courtyard. He couldn’t have said what was different, only that something was. Bea seemed to pick up on the change in him and came to his side.
“Do you think everything’s all right?”
“Probably.”
He didn’t want to scare her, and he had no concrete reason to think anything was wrong. Still, he took her hand, and when they reached the door, he took the key from her and let them in, keeping her behind him as he moved through the house, turning on lights.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong,” she said once they were inside.
“Let’s just check upstairs.”
“Okay. Do you want me to get you that whiskey?”
“No. I want you to come with me.”
She laughed softly. “Is this a new way to get me upstairs?”
For once he didn’t laugh with her. “Not this time, darlin’. Come on.”
She followed him upstairs, and by the time he’d checked all three bedrooms, both bathrooms and the balcony, he was starting to wonder if he’d overreacted. But no. He knew the answer to that one. When something felt off, it always paid to investigate.
They stood together on the balcony in the warm darkness, the sound of cicadas and the scent of flowers filling the air. He put his arm around Bea’s shoulders and hugged her to his side.
“Sorry if I scared you. I just needed to be sure.”
“Blane.”
“What?”
She pointed toward the washing line.
“Shit.”
The tablecloth was gone.
She looked up at him with a worried smile. “After all the awful things I was imagining while you made sure the house was safe, I don’t know whether to be concerned that the tablecloth is gone or laugh because it’s probably blown away or something.”
Blane stared at the empty washing line. There’d barely been a breeze all day.
“You’re doing the thing,” she said.
“What thing?”
“You’re absolutely still.” She tightened her arm around his waist. “You even feel like a granite cliff. There’s no movement whatsoever.”
“Sorry, darlin’.” He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it was the wind.”
She looked up at him again. “But you don’t believe that, do you?”
“No. But that’s because I’m a suspicious bastard. Says more about me than it does about what happened to your tablecloth.”