Page 52 of The Kiss that Captured a Billionaire
Second: he had a low, easy drawl that could probably sell furniture to a cat.
Third: he was developing more than a passing interest in her.
And while she appreciated him—and adored his sister—her heart was still a smoking crater thanks to Theo Kallistratos. Which meant she had exactly zero emotional bandwidth for another man—even one as nice as Robby Evans.
That was why she’d been scrolling on her phone earlier, searching for a way to let him down gently, when it appeared.
The ad.
The glorious, destiny-altering,‘I’m about to live in a van down by the river,’ad.
Now, they were standing in front of a cheerful little house in Fort Smith, Arkansas, arguing about it like an old married couple—minus the ring, the romance, and the shared Netflix password.
“I’m not saying it’s not a good deal,” Robby argued, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m saying… why the rush? Why not just come to Omaha, stay with me for a while? Let me help you get settled before you—” he gestured at the driveway like it was a crime scene, “—buy a tiny hippy van and go live God knows where.”
Rose pressed her lips together to keep from grinning. “It’s not a hippie van.”
“It’s got daisies, peace signs, and paw prints on it, Rose,” he replied in a dry voice.
“That’s called personality.”
“It’s called ‘arrested at the border for suspicious floral activity’—not to mention you’ll get pulled over at every county line to see if you are smoking weed.”
She crossed her arms. “You just don’t understand. This isn’t just any van—it’s a 1990 VW Westfalia. Low miles. Rebuilt engine—by a certified mechanic for hisdaughter—plus a gorgeous paint job. It’s basically a unicorn with a carburetor.”
Robby gave her a look. “It’s a magnet for trouble. If you want a car, I can help you find one when we get to Omaha. There’s noreason for you to worry about needing to find a place right away. Mom and Dad’s house is huge. You can stay in Kerry’s room.”
Rose bit her lip. She could hear theor minethat he wanted to add but didn’t.
“I’ll come—for a few days. I mean… it might be nice to have a place to outfit the van and… get better at driving, from someone who knows what they’re doing.”
His eyebrows rose. “Get better at driving?”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I have my license.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Her voice went small. “There was no reason to drive back home. Okay… I’ve only driven once—to pass my test.”
His blink was slow. “Once? That’s it?”
“I lived in the city! You don’t need a car there. You just need comfortable shoes, a decent sense of direction, and public transit.”
Robby groaned like a man picturing his own funeral arrangements. “Great. I hope you know that Kerry’s going to skin me alive.”
Rose grinned. “She’ll boil you in oil first to make it easier.”
A short while later, the deal was done, the keys were in her hand, and she was floating somewhere between terror and giddy triumph. She had a home and transportation. All she needed now was a job… and maybe a magician who could wipe out the last month of her memory.
The van was unapologetically ridiculous—flowers, peace signs, and paw prints scattered like confetti. The seller had explained it was a refurbished college graduation gift for his oldest daughter. Three months ago, she had married a doctor and moved to California, leaving the van behind like a perfectly painted orphan.
Now it was Rose’s.
Two hours later, she was following Robby’s big truck down the highway, gripping the steering wheel like it was a lifeline and giving herself pep talks out loud.
“You’re fine. Totally fine. The lane lines are your friends. The semi next to you is not trying to eat you.”
The van hummed beneath her, smelling faintly of old leather, new vinyl, and maybe… optimism?
