Page 3 of Starry Night Kisses

Almost there.

After collecting my keys and purse, I shrug into my black shearling jacket before pulling on my knee-high black boots.

Did I have a sense of style pre-divorce? Yes.

Did that sense of style turn trash-panda chic afterward? Also, yes.

And after spending so much time in Europe, where I wore the same five outfits made of basics I could mix and match, I felt liketravel Evie’ssense of style was going to follow me forever. However, since arriving in Chicago and hanging around Kendall again, the urge to put myself together and dress a little cuter has hit me full force.

Sure, it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re attracted to Eric and want him to think you’re capable of dressing yourself without looking like a toddler who found clothes in the dark.

Eric is waiting by a white Chevy Silverado when I reach ground level. He’s all smiles as he leans against his truck, looking positively edible in dark blue jeans and a tight black Henley beneath a charcoal peacoat. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Shivers dance down my spine, and it’s not because of the slight breeze in the air today. “Hi.”

Well, that came out more timid than I meant it. Come on, Evie. You’re not a shy girl. Get it together!

His perfect pearly whites gleam as his smile widens. “Hi.”

He reaches for the bouquet in my hand, grabs the other to bring to his lips, and presses a soft kiss against the back of it. My cheeks grow warm. Eric’s eyes never leave mine as he steps into me. “How are you, Evelyn?”

Oh, we’re using my full name now? Excuse me while I melt into a puddle.

“I’m good.”There, my voice has returned with its usual confidence.“How are you? Didn’t you just get back today?”

“Yeah,” he turns to open the passenger door and helps me in, “I have to leave again soon, too.” He gives me an apologetic glance as he hands me the bouquet. “This is pretty. Did you make it?”

Ignoring the sting of disappointment at hearing that he’s leaving again, I focus on my creation andsmile with a shrug. “Yeah. I thought it would be nice for the nursery. I think I’m going to try and make a career out of it.”

“Definitely planning on sticking around, then?” He grins up at me since I’m a little higher than him sitting in his truck. He’s still in the open doorway of the passenger side, barely any space between us as he gives me his undivided attention. His light eyes sparkle, and I notice tiny flecks of green spotted throughout the blue of his irises.

“Was the renting of a condo not evidence enough?” I smirk at him impishly.

His eyebrows shoot into his hairline and he bites his bottom lip, something I’ve never seen a man do, but now all I can think of is what those teeth would feel like biting into my thighs.

“Don’t be a smartass,” he gently, but playfully, scolds as he buckles me in like a child. It’s a considerate gesture, making me think Eric has a caring tendency, and I remember how he was with Daphne on New Year’s Eve before her husband arrived.

The simple act sets my insides aflame and has me wishing that the giant bouquet wasn’t in the way, because as he leans over my body, all I want to do is attack him with my lips.

Down girl! Geesh, you really need to get laid.

As if my pussy agrees, it clenches around air when I inhale Eric’s woodchip scent. The air thickens between us as he pulls back, eyes dropping to my lips, which are parted slightly. His throat bobs as his gaze flickers back up.

A shrill blare like a nuclear warning snaps us both out of the moment, and he winces, shutting my door as he pulls his phone from his pocket. He answers it as he walks around the truck, pausing near the front to argue with whoever called.

I can barely make out what he’s saying, but it sounds like it has to do with work. Dropping my eyes to the bouquet, I let out a sigh. My ex-husband, Steven, was always working long hours and traveling for his job. Maybe it wouldn’t have been such a big deal if I had worked as well, but Steven hadn’t wanted me to. He’d wanted me home all day, cleaning and having dinner ready for him on the table when he got home when hewasin town.

It was a lonely life—for both of us, obviously, since he impregnated his secretary and moved her into our home before I even had my bags packed.

Is that something I want to go through again? Always waiting at home for my man to be available?

No, Evie. No, you do not.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Eric says as he climbs into his truck. “Work is never-ending, unfortunately.”

A noncommittal hum vibrates in my throat as I stare out the window, watching the busy streets as we head across the city toward South Loop, where Daphne and Henry’s penthouse is. They have two homes—one here and one about thirty or so minutes away in the suburbs, not far from Kendall’s home.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, pulling my attention across the truck.

---