Or maybe he sold the place,” she said. “Then what will we do?” She chewed another fry.
“He didn’t sell it. He told me years ago that when I wanted the place, it was mine.”
“That’s nice, but life happens you know. Maybe he had to sell it or maybe it burned down.”
He paused with the fork halfway to his mouth and lifted a dark eyebrow. “Hello, Miss Sunshine and Light. I thought you were an optimist.”
She sighed. “I guess my cup is more half-empty these days. Sorry. What I meant to say was, ‘Gee, that’s nice to fall back on.’”
He laughed around the food in his mouth, but it sounded harsh around the edges. “Let’s see if you think that after you see the place.”
“Hey, I can rough it as good as the next gal.”
He cocked his head and gave her a flat stare.
“What?” she said, letting a hint of indignation creep into her voice. Just because she’d gotten used to the finer things in life didn’t make her a sissy or a wimp. “I’m tough. You don’t think I’m tough?”
His dark eyes watched her, his face turned as serious as she’d ever seen him. “I know you’re tough.” Maybe he was thinking about that day on the red carpet so many weeks ago or the fact that she’d lived through a car bomb yesterday. Or was it the day before? Time seemed to have gone haywire with her internal clock. “I just don’t love that I’m taking you to a place that I haven’t been to in decades. But it’s about keeping you und—”
“Under wraps. I know.” She sipped her drink. “Why don’t you cut yourself some slack where I’m concerned. I can take care of myself.”
He looked over her shoulder again, then glanced at the crutches leaning on the wall next to the table.
“Hey, don’t be looking at those stupid sticks of death. Just because I’m not great on them doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself.” She lifted her fork to snag a French fry, then set it down. She wasn’t even hungry anymore. She hated running and that’s what this was. Running far and fast and leaving everything she knew behind.
He reached out and covered her hand with his. “This is the right thing.”
Then why did she feel like such a chicken? Why did she think that no matter how much time she spent away from home, it wasn’t going to make a bit of difference to the man stalking her? Why would someone want to kill her in the first place? Was it a fan she’d let down or one of the crazies who asked her to marry them? She didn’t have enemies. She’d told that to the police. In a town that fed on gossip and rumors, she’d learned to keep her mouth shut and watch what she said like a hawk when it came to interviews and sound bites. She’d learned years ago that if she kept a positive or diplomatic spin on things, it was much harder to edit something out of context and make her look bad.
“It might be the right thing, but for how long?”
His understanding gaze said more than words. Once again it struck her that he had put his own life on hold for her. He might be a man of few words, but his actions spoke for themselves.
Julie picked up her burger if only to end the conversation so Troy would finish his dinner. She’d heard his stomach rumbling the past two hours of the drive and knew he was starving. He demolished his steak in minutes and pulled out his wallet.
“Let’s go,” he said, yanking a couple of bills from his money clip. “I don’t like how these two guys keep looking over here. You might’ve been made.” He tossed the cash on the table.
Julie’s pulse jumped and she set her napkin on her almost-empty plate. “I’ve got this ridiculous wig on. I can’t imagine they really recognized me.”
“I can.” He got up, reached for her crutches and they escaped out the side exit.
Hours later, Troy hauled their luggage into another hotel room outside of Denver, this one much like the last with the exception of one king-size bed. Julie made another call to the detectives and had to leave a message. She didn’t expect a call back in the near future. Troy used the bathroom first then crashed on the bed as she hobbled her way toward the toilet. By the time she came out