When You Rescue Your Celebrity Crush: A Sweet Romantic Comedy by Huni Lia

Author:Huni, Lia
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: IPH Media
Published: 2023-12-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

NICA

Early Friday morning, I drive to the Ranch again. The car’s magic opens the gates like before, and I drive to the pool closest to Dad’s house. Leaving the Porsche in a back row spot, I hurry across the parking lot, the sun already warming the pavement.

Stepping onto the shaded walking path is like stepping into a walk-in fridge. I pull my sweater closer and pick up my speed. A car noses out of Dad’s driveway, and I jump behind a huge pine, hoping the driver didn’t spot me. The little car rattles past, and I catch a glimpse of an older woman with spiky gray hair and tired-looking eyes. She must be the night nurse.

The realization that Dad still needs twenty-four-hour care brings me up short. Is he that incapacitated? And where is Destiny? Probably with her friends, moaning that she didn’t sign up for this. Did no one warn her that seventy-year-old men sometimes develop health issues?

Back it up, Nica. You have no idea what Destiny is thinking. Just because she’s not here in his time of need doesn’t mean—oh, who am I trying to fool? That’s exactly what it means. She was here for the good times, the fame, the money. But when it gets tough, she’s gone.

I pull up Instagram as I walk, checking Destiny’s recent posts. As I expected, there’s no mention of my dad. She’s apparently been in Las Vegas drinking and gambling away her sorrows since she left Dad here with the hired help.

I step into the shadows cast by the huge garage and text Justin. After a moment, one of the garage doors ratchets up and I duck inside. The vast space is empty except for the Mercedes. I have the classic Porsche, of course, and Destiny drove away in the red one. The racing car is in the second garage at the back of the two-acre property. And the last stall holds a dilapidated Nissan. That must be Justin’s—my dad certainly doesn’t own it.

Justin opens the inside door, and I hurry up the steps to the back hall. “Where’s the Land Rover?”

He sticks his head into the garage, as if I might have overlooked the vehicle, then shrugs. “I dunno. There’s only been the one car since I got here. There should be more?”

“Last time I visited, he had a big gray Range Rover. That was in April. Maybe he got rid of it.” I follow him into the house, trying to remember if it was here when I took the Porsche, but I got nothing. We pass the closed door to the laundry room and cross the huge kitchen.

He stops at the bottom of the stairs and turns around. “I should warn you—he doesn’t look like he does in the movies.”

I half-smile. “He hasn’t looked like that guy most of my life. He still fakes it pretty well in public, but much as he’d like to deny it, he’s getting older.”

He puts a hand on my arm. “That’s not what I meant.

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