Page 276 of The Maxwell Brothers
"Oh my God, you're here.”
“In the flesh."
I blinked, feeling flushed as he came up to me. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming here?"
"Because I wanted to surprise you."
"Oh, wow." I put my hand on my chest. It was rising and falling rapidly. “I didn’t see you. I was too focused on Bob. He was super drunk. I wasn't sure he would be able to make it to the Uber on his own, so I came with him."
"That was very thoughtful of you," Declan said, coming even closer. He had a dangerous sort of stride, like he was a creature of the night on the prowl and I was his prey.
"On a scale of one to ten, how tired are you?" he asked, looking at me intently.
"Hmm, not at all. Why?"
He smirked. "You have to be at least a bit tired."
"No, I have adrenaline after I work the late shift, remember? That's why I terrorize you with my music."
"Right.” He winked, then stated, “Then we're going out."
"We are?" How exciting was this? I’d been in Chicago a bit but really hadn’t gotten out and about, especially in the evening.
"Yes."
He gently touched the back of his fingers to my cheek. "I told you I'm good at finding solutions. You said you have shifts every evening, so here I am, taking you outaftera shift."
My stomach cartwheeled. "Declan…." I couldn't believe he was doing this. I remembered him saying how he needed his peace and quiet at night, but he was doing this for me. My entire body was buzzing, because he was close and touching me and looking at me with those impossibly sinful eyes. His lips were so near, and yet he wasn't kissing me.
"Where are we going?" I muttered.
"To a festival."
"At this time of night?"
"Yes,” he said with a chuckle. “Chicago is very much alive, and we’re going out on the town."
We ended up at an art festival close to the water.
“How is this still open at this time?” I asked. “I thought most festivals closed this late in the evening.”
“They do, but this one is so popular that they extended it until two o’clock in the morning twice a week.”
“This is so great. Kind of reminds me of my hometown. We have festivals for everything.”
He winked at me, putting a hand on the small of my back. “Thought you’d like it.”
Besides art, there were booths with cheese, wine, and finger foods everywhere, as well as the odd stand selling jewelry. There weren’t a lot of visitors—I guessed closing time was soon—but I liked it. It was intimate.
“Chicago has lots of these events,” he said.
“You go often?”
He leaned closer. “Confession: it’s my first time.”
I gasped. “Why?”
“I don’t know.”
