Page 64 of The Kiss that Captured a Billionaire
He was the danger—and the shelter. And that contradiction terrified her most.
“There are things I want to see and do,” she said, watching a small bird hop across the ground on the other side of the table, its head tilting as if hoping she’d toss it a crumb.
“Like what?” he asked, leaning forward, genuinely curious.
She took a long breath. “I want to see if things can work out between us.”
“They will.” His answer was instant, certain.
She scoffed, shaking her head with a wry smile. “You say that as if it’s a done deal. But you and I both know things haven’t exactly been smooth sailing.”
He reached up and caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, his touch so gentle it made her breath catch. “They haven’t been so bad either.”
She laughed softly, but her gaze searched his. “Theo, I want to take my time with this. I want to… really know you. Not the man who can crook his little finger and have a bouncer ask a woman to the VIP lounge in the club he owns. Not the billionaire who can buy his way into—or out of—anything. I want to know the man who makes me laugh, the man who would travel halfway across the country to chase a woman… because he wasn’t ready to let me go.”
His thumb lingered along her jaw. “Doesn’t that tell you who he is—and what he’s willing to do for her?”
She released a breath. “Three weeks. My road trip—exactly the way I planned it.” She watched his eyebrows lift, then added, “If you want to know me, then travel with me. Live like I live. See the things I want to see. Talk to me, spend time with me. Do all the crazy stuff that I’ve dreamed of, but have never done. And by the end of it… we’ll both know if this can work. Plus…” She let the sentence hang.
“Plus?”
“By then we’ll know if I’m pregnant or not.”
That earned her a long, unreadable look before his gaze drifted toward the van parked under the cottonwoods. His voice wascarefully even, but there was an almost comical inflection in it when he asked, “Does this journey of yours include… us traveling and sleeping inthatvan?”
Rose’s grin widened. She didn’t even try to hide her amusement. “It absolutely does.”
He glanced down at his rumpled suit and designer wool coat, then back at her with the air of a man mentally calculating the number of showers he could tolerate missing. “I might need a different wardrobe if that’s the case.”
She laughed outright. “We’ll stop at a thrift store. I’ll help you pick something—don’t worry, I have an eye for style.”
His smile tugged into something quieter, more serious. “And what happens when our journey is over?”
Her expression softened. She hesitated, the question hanging between them like mist over the river, before she reached up and caressed his cheek.
“I don’t know… not yet. But I do know I want to reach out to my grandparents first. Talk to them. Get to know them before I see them face-to-face.” Her throat tightened. “And I’m still… grieving Pop. I don’t want to rush that.”
He kissed her—slow, deep, sure—then rested his forehead against hers. “I understand.” His voice dropped to a whisper meant only for her. “This will be one adventure I’ll never forget. And I wouldn’t miss it for all the money in the world. I have only one request.”
“What?”
“Can I please drive?”
Her laugh bubbled out, joyous and free, as she leaned back. “Yes, you can drive, because our next stop is—” She launched into an excited explanation, her hands painting the route in the air.
And as she spoke, she felt her heart swell at the sight of him—rumpled, determined, and sitting in the chill morning air just to be near her. She realized then that Theo had never needed a sword to cut through the wall of thorns she’d built around her heart.
He’d only needed a tender caress—and the way his thumb brushed over her knuckles now proved it.
For the first time, the road ahead didn’t feel like escape. It felt like the beginning of something she might finally call home.
Sixteen
Three weeks and nearly five thousand miles later, Theo stretched out in the sable leather seat of his jet, feeling the hum of the engines’ purr beneath him. It was a familiar sound, one that usually blended into the background of endless business flights. But today, his entire body seemed attuned to it—relaxed, satisfied, and humming with contentment.
Against all odds—and despite his very vocal reservations at the start—he’d driven Rose’s kaleidoscope-on-wheels van across more than half the United States. Somewhere between the Badlands, Big Bend, and the long road back to New York, he’d discovered something unexpected: exhilaration.
They had laughed over terrible diner pie, marveled at what life must have been like for early indigenous people, and fallen asleep to the sound of wind rattling the van’s pop-top. The last time he’d felt that free—this unbound—was when he and Alexandros had been teenagers, before life had come calling with its responsibilities, expectations, and inherited titles.
