I shrug.

“I’m itching to bolt.”

Since my dad can read me without effort, no point in beating around the bush.

He shakes his head slowly, not in a gesture of no, you can’t go, but more in an I shouldn’t let you do this kind of way.

Damn.

“You said,” I remind heatedly before Alan can formulate a response, “that if I did exactly what you told me to the entire four months on the road, that I didn’t have to stay in lockdown until the end of my six months’ probation. I did everything you asked. You said that I could have my freedom back when we reached LA. You promised. I want to take off for a while after we land.”

Alan rakes his messy black waves from his face as his eyes fix on me in an odd blend of amusement, exasperation and apprehension. “Do you want some advice?”

Oh crap.

“Not really, Pop.”

My dad’s lips pucker as if he’s beating back laughter. “Well, I’m going to give it to you anyway. Run after a guy and he’ll run your life forever.”

I let loose an aggravated shake of my head. “That’s not even close to true and definitely not Bobby. And I’m not running after anyone.”

“Then there is no reason why you can’t come home with us, play it cool, and see what happens,” Alan counters quickly. “It’s what Chrissie wants. It’s what I want. To go home together as a family. It’s important to us, Kaley.”

I exhale loudly in frustration. “I have to go home with you. How do you think I’m going to get my car? I just want to leave after I get there. It’s been four months. I just want to see him. Talk to him. Apologize. I’ve got a lot to apologize for. Come on, Pop. Can’t you be cool just once?”

He studies me for a moment, unmoved. “Send it in a letter. No wait, an e-mail. But, please, don’t do it by posting a video online.”

He starts to laugh and I give him a light shove in the leg. “Don’t make jokes. This is important.”

“No, Alan’s right,” Chrissie pipes in quietly.

I shift my gaze to find my mom’s eyes wide open and watching us.

Damn, she’s been awake and listening.

Now I’ve got to battle two of them.

“Please. I promise I’ll be home by curfew. Even though I’ve never had one and I am over eighteen, you can set one if you let me go. Please…”

“Don’t wheedle, Kaley. It’s beneath you,” he teases. We square off with our eyes, but it’s my dad who closes his first. “You can go if you want to. It was our agreement and I always keep my word, but you shouldn’t do it, sweetheart.”

Even with the last jibe, I’m so happy I lunge into my dad and give him a fast hug and kiss.

When I pull back, Alan rolls his eyes and groans. “Can you do one thing for me, so I’ll worry less about you taking off? Can you try to be less obvious than you just were with me when you see Bobby?”

My cheeks burn but I nod.

My dad makes an aggravated groan, but I spring from the bed before he can say another word, and go back to my seat, more than ready to reach LA now.

The plane tilts, levels off and then I feel a series of bumps—landing gear touching earth—followed by the loud whoosh of slowing engines. We taxi and then stop. The steps are pulled down.

The doors open, and a burst of sunshine floods the cabin with the warm August air. Everyone starts moving, gathering things. Lourdes ticks off a rapid stream of commands—half in English, half in Spanish—to my brothers and sisters.

My parents emerge from their private cave, and my dad lifts Khloe from the housekeeper’s arms.

I pause at the top step of the open cabin door. Nothing but private aviation personnel, ground crew, the waiting car and driver to take us home, and the two remaining members of my dad’s security team, Trey and Graham, who made the last leg of the journey home with us. There’s not even press here. Just normal airport activity and us.

My mood dips.

I didn’t really expect to see Bobby waiting for me.

Why did I look to see if he was there?

Stupid, Kaley. Bobby dumped you.

Graham looks up at me, waves, and smiles. I trot down the steps and cross the tarmac toward him.

“I’m glad my dad picked you to stay with us this flight.” I make a face. “Don’t take this the wrong way. It doesn’t mean I’m not happy to be done with having you as my bodyguard everywhere I go, but I’m going to miss you.”

Graham laughs. “Believe it or not, I’m going to miss you, too, Kaley.”

“Thank you for everything. You’ve been a really good friend to me.”

He drops a kiss on top of my head. “Everything is going to be all right. I’m not worried about you anymore. Things look like they’re going well with you and your dad. Just—”

He pauses.

I shouldn’t ask.

Fuck, I’m asking.

“Just what?” I demand pointedly. “Spit it out, Graham. No need to stop being overbearing now.”

I can tell by the gleam in his eyes that I shouldn’t have stepped into this.

He taps my nose. “Try listening to your dad. He won’t steer you wrong. He’s a good man and he loves you.”

I groan. “And here we were, doing so well, and you had to get one last one in, didn’t you?”

He grins. “I had to try.”

I almost walk away, then I slip my arms around him and give him a firm hug.

“Kaley…” he chides in a slow, exaggerated way.

“Graham…”

“I’ve already told you. Never do that. Drop your arms. Step back. We’re in the US. This time your fingers really are on my gun.”

Crap.

Grimacing, I do as ordered.

His eyes sparkle at me.

Oh fudge.

“Very funny. Ha, ha, ha. You don’t carry a gun. You’re only for show. All looks. No heat.”

He arches a brow. “Really? You think no heat?”

“Then show me your gun,” I challenge.

Full dimples this time. “I’m not showing you my gun, sweetie. I’ve already told you, you’re not my type.”

I explode into laughter.

“You are so obnoxious. I really am going to miss you.”

Smiling, he juts his chin. “You’re not going to have time to miss me. I think you’re about to have something better going on real soon. Definitely hot. Damn. I don’t think he’s here for me.”

I turn in the direction Graham is staring.

My heart jumps.

Parked just beyond the gate of the private aviation entrance, leaning back against the hood of his Aston Martin.

Bobby.

He did come.

He’s here.

Green eyes lock on me.

“Kaley, let’s roll,” I hear my dad call out.

I tear my gaze away from Bobby.

Crap. The bags are loaded and everyone’s in the car except my dad. He’s standing in the space behind the open door, impatient and ready to go.

“Steady, solider,” Graham whispers. “Try not to run. Go talk to your dad first. Take your time. Play it cool. Don’t make it too easy for Bobby. He did break up with you, remember?”

Same advice my dad gave me.

If Graham says it, it’s got to be right.

I wonder if they coordinate via text my daily doses of male guidance.

I sigh heavily. “I won’t run. I’ll talk to my dad first. Happy? Jeez, you’re as big of a pain as my dad is sometimes.”

Graham’s laughter follows me as I move toward the car. I rummage through my bag for my phone and keys, then hand my carry tote to the driver.

I turn to Alan. “Bobby’s here.”

My dad frowns. He scans the airport. His face changes; he’s spotted Bobby.

“Well, can I go?”

Shit, Alan’s expression isn’t encouraging.

“Are you going to remember what I said?”

I nod.

“I want you back at the house no later than ten.”

Crap.

Ten?

The curfew nonsense just blew up in my face.

I didn’t mean it.

I’m eighteen.

This is stupid.

“Fine. Ten. Can I go?”

Waiting.

Waiting.

“Please?”

Come on, Alan, come through for me.

“You can go,” he says slowly, then winks and smiles.

Jeez.

“God, why do you have to be that way? You were going to let me go all along and dragged it out. Do you always have to be so—so—?”