any neighbors she remembered. “Well, that didn’t help. Where’d you meet him?” She bit off the tip of chocolate.
“He knocked on your door because he was worried that his backyard had slid into yours.”
“Did it?” Her pulse bumped up. If the hill had slid into her yard, she was making Troy turn around now.
“No, no slide. Your place is fine. Relax. Don’t freak out. He said he was a neighbor. Maybe you just don’t remember him.”
She had to admit a tendency to forget names and faces because she met so many people all of the time. “I guess. Just don’t let anyone into—”
“Into your house. I got it already. Look, he was nice and nothing happened so don’t stress. How’s your leg?” she asked, probably to change the subject. Cal was good at deflecting the conversation when she wanted to.
“It’s better. Cal, be careful okay. I don’t want this nutjob going after you because you’re checking my house.”
Carrie Ann laughed. “Not going to happen. Trust me.”
“One other thing,” Julie said. “Tell Abbey there’s a stack of headshots on my entry table that need to be mailed out. I put the addresses with them.” It was the last bit of work she’d done before her mother had driven up the day of the car bomb.
“You’re way nicer than me,” Cal said. “I can’t believe you’re still signing headshots and mailing them out for anyone who asks. That’s crazy.”
“It’s called keeping my fans happy,” Julie said, popping the rest of the Kiss in her mouth.
“And it’s all about the fans, isn’t it? Hey,” she said, before Julie could comment. “I have to go. I have an audition. Call me when you get there. I hate worrying about you.”
“Then don’t.”
“Then don’t,” Call mocked her, a real sense of anger in her tone. “Sometimes I just want to smack you.”
Julie snorted. The conversation made it hard to enjoy the chocolate. “Gee, Cal. I love you too. Break a leg. I’ll talk to you later. Don’t be pissed,” she added before disconnecting the call.
“What was that all about?” Troy’s suspicious macho tone would have made her smile if the situation wasn’t so serious.
“Just a neighbor up the block who thought his backyard might’ve had a slide. Cal said everything’s fine. I trust her.”
“From the sound of it, she’s mad?” Troy asked. He looked in the rearview mirror.
Julie heard the roar of an engine and turned as a Porsche zoomed past them in the fast lane. “Apparently I can’t do anything right, and not telling where I am is at the top of the list.”
“Is she always so possessive?”
They’d known each other for over thirteen years and Cal had stuck close to her through thick and thin. Granted, the thin parts had mostly belonged to Cal because Julie’s star had been constantly rising, but Cal’d been there during both of Julie’s high-profile breakups and helped her pick up the pieces.
Julie exhaled in a rush. “Mostly. It’s not that she’s possessive per se. More like protective. She doesn’t want to see me get hurt.”
“I don’t either, you know. That’s why we’re taking this trip.”
She watched his profile, his intense focus as he concentrated on the road, the way his big hand gripped the wheel easily. She remembered how his hands felt stroking over her skin. How gentle they could be, how he made her shudder with a light touch or moan from an intimate caress. She’d never felt safer. “I know.”
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“Sure.” The sun disappeared behind scattered dark clouds and Julie eased the window down a few inches. The fresh scent of rain filled her head.
“Will you tell me about your dad?”
Well, she sure as hell hadn’t seen that coming. Nothing like the mention of her father to bring her back to reality. Most people were curious about him, but she’d made sure to keep that topic off-limits in her interviews. “If you really feel the need to know. Ask away.” This required more chocolate. She reached for a handful of Kisses, put the window back up, then shifted in the seat and got comfortable.
“Obviously your parents are divorced.”
She nodded. “Obviously.”
“For how long?”
She took a second to think about it as she unwrapped chocolate. “About twenty years.”
His eyes widened. “Wow. So he left when you were really little.”
Drops of rain spotted the windshield. “I was eight. And we left. I don’t think my mom felt right about throwing him out of the house. As it was he lost the house, but he