Page 19 of The Kiss that Captured a Billionaire (Heart & Soul #2)

Twelve

Rose could tell from the tight set of Robby’s jaw that she’d officially driven him to the brink of his patience.

Well… parked herself at the brink, technically, since the van she wanted wasn’t hers yet.

But it will be!

Over the last two days on the road, she’d learned a few things about Kerry’s older brother:

First: he treated speed limit signs like vague suggestions from a friend he didn’t trust.

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 his daughter— 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 no reason 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 the or mine that 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?

But as the road stretched out ahead, her mind circled back to Theo and Nikos’s conversation, the words still cutting like glass. Her chest ached, but she focused on the ridiculous fact that she was piloting a psychedelic van toward Nebraska like some heartbroken Scooby-Doo extra.

This wasn’t running. This was moving forward—one psychedelic mile at a time.

Theo’s jaw ached from grinding his teeth.

They’d been in Nebraska for all of two hours, and in that time, the GPS had tried to murder them twice— once down a cow path, and again at an abandoned grain silo with rusted tracks. Both times with a cheerful ‘You have arrived’ .

Now, finally, the correct mailbox loomed into view, the numbers painted in neat black script. Theo exhaled a long, slow breath, the kind meant to purge a man’s frustration before it turned homicidal.

“Turn here,” he said.

Nikos swung the rental SUV onto the winding drive, the tires crunching over gravel. A box truck sat in front of a sprawling white farmhouse with a wraparound porch, Evans Classic Furniture stenciled across its side in old-fashioned lettering.

Theo’s eyes tracked past it to the red barn beyond—picturesque, if you were into rustic postcards.

Then Nikos leaned forward, squinting. “What the hell is that?”

Theo followed his gaze—and nearly choked.

Parked beside the box truck was a van. Not just any van. A psychedelic, multicolored monstrosity—it looked as if the cast of Scooby-Doo had dropped acid and gone wild with a paint roller.

Nikos tilted his head. “Do you think they sell drugs along with their furniture?”

Theo didn’t laugh. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. His brain was too busy short-circuiting at the sight of the woman stepping out of said van.

Rose.

Her name whispered through his mind even as she turned at the sound of their tires against the gravel. Their eyes met. For a brief, hopeful moment, he thought maybe—just maybe…

But, no. He grimaced at the scowl of displeasure on her face. She shifted her weight, one hip cocked, arms folding slowly across her chest. Her chin lifted, her expression pure disdain—daring him to try her.

Nikos gave a low whistle. “Well… time and distance clearly didn’t make her heart grow fonder.”

Theo shot him a glare. “Stay in the car.”

“Not a chance. I’ve got to have a peek inside the Mystery Machine. Maybe it has a minibar,” Nikos murmured with a grin, already unbuckling his seatbelt.

“You’re no help,” Theo growled.

Nikos shot him a look of disgust. “No help! I’ll remind you that I had to agree to a blind date to get us here. I think that is a tremendous sacrifice on my part. I’ve heard my share of horror stories about them.”

“You might enjoy it,” he defended.

Nikos shot him a pained expression. “She does walking ghost tours of New York, Theo—during the daytime. Do you really think she’s going to be my type?”

“Probably not,” he agreed, shooting Nikos an apologetic glance before he slid out of the SUV.

He stared at Rose in silence, afraid she might disappear. His gaze ran over the van when she turned to place a box inside.

If she does run, and she does it in that van, at least it will be a hell of a lot easier to find her—even from outer space, he mused.

He released a deep sigh and walked toward her. Once he was a couple of feet away, he stopped.

“Rose.”

She arched one eyebrow and spoke in a voice sweet as vinegar. “Theo.”

His gaze ran over the ridiculous van again. “That’s an interesting vehicle.”

“Thank you. I like it,” she said.

He frowned, his gaze sweeping over her face. “You bought this… thing?” he asked, waving his hand at it.

She glanced over her shoulder at the van as if it was a beloved pet. “I did. Isn’t she beautiful?”

“Beautiful?” He stared at her like she’d just announced she’d joined a traveling circus. “It looks like it was painted by a kindergarten class high on drugs.”

“I said it looked like the Mystery Machine,” Nikos piped up. “Hi, Rose.”

“Nikos. Still shopping for friends under a rock, I see,” she said with a fake smile before the smile faded and she looked back at him. “She has character, and she’s mine—bought and paid for. No one can write a check and leave me homeless again. ”

“It’s not what you think,” he muttered.

“Oh? Did I misunderstand when you said you were going to call Mimi and quote ‘tell her if the theatre wants a charitable donation, she’ll have to terminate Rose’s living and working arrangements.

Immediately.’ Or, what else did you say, Theo?

That it was inevitable? You’re right—it is.

It was inevitable that I would be leaving you when I found out what a toad you are. ”

“I can explain,” he growled in frustration.

Rose’s eyes flicked to Nikos when he muttered, “I can’t wait to hear this train wreck.”

“Go take a walk, Nikos,” she snapped at the same time as Theo scowled at his friend and said, “You’re not helping!”

Nikos raised his hands and stepped toward the van. “I’ll just go check out Rose’s new home.”

Theo muttered another curse and ran both hands through his hair. “I can’t believe you gave up the chance to stay with me for—for that thing.”

Her eyes glittered. “That thing is better than trading my life for billionaire bullshit.”

Theo’s jaw tightened. “Billionaire…? You left without giving me a chance to?—”

“What? Explain? Manipulate me some more?” She took a deliberate step back, as if his very presence was something toxic. “No thanks. I’ve moved on. Greener pastures. Less… Greek tycoon drama.”

“Greener pastures?” He took a step forward. “What does that mean? With whom?”

As if summoned by the universe to answer the question, a tall, broad-shouldered man with shaggy brown hair appeared from the house carrying a box. Robby Evans. Theo recognized him from the blurry traffic cam photo.

Robby strolled over, his dark brown eyes cool, and without breaking stride, slipped the box under one beefy arm while wrapping the other around Rose’s shoulders where he pulled her close. It was casual, but the message in his glare was as subtle as a neon sign: She’s mine.

Theo’s pulse ticked up several notches.

“Who’s your friend?” Robby asked.

Rose’s lips pursed. “Just someone who took a wrong turn. He’s leaving.”

Nikos whistled and muttered under his breath, “This is gonna be good.”

Theo ignored him—and Robby. His focus was on Rose. “We’re not done.”

She tilted her head. “We are now.”

“You’re on private property, Kallistratos. You might want to take your SUV and head back to whatever marble palace you crawled out of. Rose doesn’t want you here,” Robby said, nodding his head towards the driveway.

Theo’s lips curved—not in humor, but in the smile that made grown men reconsider their life choices. “I didn’t come this far to turn around.”

Rose’s scowl deepened. “Then be prepared to be disappointed,” she snapped, twisting and walking away.

Theo balled his fists as Nikos stared with wide, amused eyes. Robby offered a nod filled with smugness. A soft curse escaped Theo as the broad-shouldered man put the box of treats he'd carried out into the van, then rushed after Rose.

She looked at him like he was poison. For a heartbeat, he believed it—before his pride smothered the doubt.

“Well, that went worse than I expected. What’s next—kidnapping? Murdering the furniture guy?” Nikos asked, coming to stand beside him.

A sharp, predatory smile curved Theo’s lips. He’d buy the entire damn farm if he had to—but he wouldn’t need to. His Rose had thorns… and he’d bleed gladly to reach her.

“She’ll run again,” he said with confidence.

Nikos frowned. “Okay—and when she does?”

Theo flashed him a smile. “The van has two seats. I plan on being in one of them.”