Chapter Twenty-Five
“Don’t suppose I can talk either of you miserable bastards into coming over to Deacon’s with everyone tonight, can I?”
Blane exchanged a look with Mav before they both turned to glare at Cash.
Cash held up his hands, laughing as he backed toward the door. “I know. Stupid of me to ask. But one of these days, I’m going to talk you both into it.”
Mav didn’t say a word, and Blane knew damn well why.
The guys only got together at Deacon’s on the nights their women all went out together.
It didn’t happen often, maybe once a month, but somehow over the last couple of years it had become a regular thing.
It still amazed Blane. Most of these guys had been single—or at least divorced—for years.
Now damn near all of them were settled down again.
Except him and Mav.
And nobody with any sense pushed Mav on that subject. He and Libby had been together most of their lives before the divorce, and Libby was still as much a part of this family as anyone. Cash might enjoy poking at the wound, but Blane had no intention of joining in.
Cash caught his gaze from the doorway. “If you’d bring your Bea back here to live, you could come hang out with everyone while she went off with the girls.”
Blane scowled at him. “What are you going for, anyway? You don’t have a woman to drop off wherever they’re meeting and pick up afterward.”
Cash shot a glance at Mav. “I have a friend I give a ride home afterward; make sure she gets back safe.”
Blane took a mental step backward even if his boots stayed where they were. There it was. Cash was always digging at Mav about Libby, and Blane didn’t need to get caught in the middle of it.
Apparently, Mav agreed, because he turned to Blane instead. “What’s going on with this woman of yours anyway? When’s she coming over?”
Blane narrowed his eyes at him. Mav knew damn well there were no plans for Bea to come here, but it was an effective way to get Cash off his own case.
Sure enough, Cash took a step back into the room. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Blane laughed. “Jesus, Cash. You fall for it every damn time.”
Cash shrugged. “That’s because I’m a hopeful romantic. But go on. You haven’t mentioned her for days. You’re still talking to her, right? Give me some hope.”
Before Crete, Blane would have told him there wasn’t any hope. Instead, he pulled his phone from his pocket.
“Looks like she’s found herself another guy already.”
Mav leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “You’re shitting me.”
Blane laughed. “Yeah, I am. Have a look at this. This is the little guy she’s been hanging out with since I left.” Even as he held out the phone, he knew they were both going to give him shit.
Brooke had been right—he was acting weird since he’d come back. Smiling more. Laughing more. And every damn time Bea’s name came up, apparently his face did something everybody else could see even if he couldn’t. Now here he was showing them pictures she’d sent him, like a lovesick kid.
He held up the photo of Sifis, the little dog who’d somehow decided to claim him when they visited the shelter.
Cash took the phone from him. “What the hell kind of dog is that?”
Mav shook his head. “And why do we care?”
“Because I met him when I was in Crete. Apparently, he’s antisocial and miserable, but he took a shine to me.”
Cash laughed. “We talking kindred spirits?”
Blane punched him in the arm. “Shut the fuck up.”
They all looked toward the door when someone knocked against the frame.
Emmett stepped inside. “Hey, guys. Didn’t know if you’d still be working, but I wanted to stick my head in before I leave.” He looked at Mav. “I’m all done with the herd.”
“Thanks.”
Blane exchanged a look with Cash. Emmett still hadn’t figured it out. As a veterinarian, he seemed to think that, now Mav was home on his ranch, he’d eventually remember he actually owned cattle and take some interest in them. So far, Mav remained focused only on the security work.
Cash held Blane’s phone up. “Hey, Emmett. You know any more about Bea and this little dog than we do? Seeing as you’re his best friend.”
Emmett met Blane’s gaze and held it. The two of them had managed to hang out a couple of times in the weeks since Blane had been home, and they’d talked some. Emmett understood as much as Blane did.
“Shit, forget I asked,” Cash said. “I can tell by that look—you know what’s going on and you’re not telling.”
Emmett shrugged. “If you want me to tell you anything, I’ll tell you the same thing I told him.”
Cash folded his arms.
Emmett nodded toward Blane. “I told him I think he should give all this up and go back there.”
Cash’s eyes widened.
Mav grunted.
“Don’t start feeding him shit like that,” Cash said. “I’m working on him bringing Bea here.”
“And besides,” Mav added, “he’d never leave us.” He scowled at Blane. “Would you?”
Blane looked around at the three of them. Cash, who’d spent years trying to drag him back into life. Mav, who worked beside him every day. Emmett, who’d been his best friend since before either of them could walk or talk. He had no idea what the hell to say to any one of them, let alone all three.
So he held his phone out toward Emmett. “Want to see a little Greek dog?”
Emmett took the phone with a laugh. “Sure.”
He studied the picture for a few seconds, then enlarged it with his fingers. “Hard to tell from a photo, but I’d guess there’s some Kokoni in him. Probably mixed with something else. They’re little Greek companion dogs. They’re supposed to be smart, loyal, and pretty social.”
Blane snorted. “This one missed the memo.”
“Maybe.” Emmett looked at the photo again. “You said he doesn’t like people?”
“Doesn’t trust them much. Especially men, apparently.”
“And he liked you?”
“Jumped right into my lap.”
Cash made a choking sound behind him.
Blane ignored him.
Emmett smiled as he handed the phone back. “Then he picked you. Dogs don’t care what kind of bullshit story a man tells himself about who he is. They just decide whether they trust him.”
Blane stared at him. “You get that out of a veterinary textbook?”
“Nope.” Emmett grinned. “That was best friend advice. Veterinary advice costs extra.”
Cash laughed. “I think it was his way of telling you you’re full of shit.”
Blane flipped him off, but he was smiling as he looked down at the picture again.
A minute later, while Cash and Mav went back to arguing about whatever the hell they’d been arguing about before, Blane opened his messages.
Blane: Hey, darlin’. Showed Emmett that picture of Sifis. He says the little guy might be part Kokoni. Says they’re supposed to be smart, loyal, and social. So apparently, yours is defective.
He hesitated, then added:
Says if the dog doesn’t trust anybody but climbed into my lap, he picked me.
He stared at that sentence for a second before adding one more.
How’s he doing?
~ ~ ~
When Bea got back from her Greek lesson with Yiannis, she slowed the car as she approached the house and saw that the gate was standing open.
She pulled through it slowly, half expecting to find a car in the driveway, but there was nothing.
She switched off the engine and sat there for a moment, looking around cautiously.
She’d deliberately closed the gate before she went out earlier.
She’d thought she saw that man again this morning, standing in the lane.
She might have imagined it—he’d been there one moment and gone by the time she looked again—but it had unsettled her enough that she’d made extra sure the front and back doors were locked before she left.
Then, even though she’d felt rather silly doing it, she’d climbed out of her little Ignis once she was out on the lane and deliberately closed the gate behind her.
It was only held by a latch. It wasn’t as though it would keep anyone out, but at the time it had made her feel better.
She let out an uneasy little laugh. Now it made her feel worse.
If she’d simply left the bloody thing open, she wouldn’t have to wonder why it wasn’t closed.
She made herself get out of the car. Perhaps the latch was loose.
It could be something as simple as that, although the excuse didn’t fool her for long.
Blane had hung that gate. He might have done it in the middle of the night, but she didn’t believe for one moment that he would have walked away without making sure the latch held properly.
The firm click when she closed it confirmed that.
She leaned out into the lane, but there was no sign of anyone.
Then she looked up at the house, hating the sudden feeling that someone might have been here while she was gone.
This was her home, her little sanctuary.
She didn’t want anyone turning it into a place where she had to wonder what had happened while her back was turned.
She checked around as she made her way to the front door and unlocked it.
She’d barely stepped inside when her phone buzzed sharply inside her bag, startling her badly enough that she actually jumped.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
She set her bag down on the counter, then hesitated and, on impulse, went back outside.
There he was—the same man, already some distance away, walking down the lane.
A shiver traveled over her skin. He didn’t appear to mean her any harm.
Surely, if he did, he’d be coming toward her rather than walking away.
Although that wasn’t especially reassuring, now she thought about it.
If he had been here while she was out, perhaps leaving was precisely what he would be doing.
She stopped herself. No. She was letting her imagination run away with her.