I’m going to need him to hurry up and be a jerk.
That I can handle.
“See you,” I said, working hard to keep my voice even.
Working hard yet failing miserably since it came out as barely an airy whisper.
I hurriedly climbed into the driver’s seat and closed the door. He backed away but didn’t go far as he watched me leave.
Maybe it’s better that I’m not seeing him until Sunday.
That gives me time to get my head on straight when it comes to Tripp Carter.
Tripp
‘Ineed toknow when you need me.’
I waited until Greer’s SUV was out of view before discreetly adjusting the hard-on that threatened to break through the zipper of my jeans. I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard a sexier sentence in my damn life, but she hadn’t meant it in the way my dick and me had taken it.
That wouldn’t stop me from using those words on repeat as a soundtrack while I stroked myself when I got home. If it weren’t for the overkill of security and cameras in the garage and lurking paparazzi outside of it, I might not have made it home. But the last thing I needed was viral pictures or videos of me jerking off like a pathetic perv.
Though I was one when it came to her.
Hiring Greer might’ve been the smartest business decision I’d made in a long time.
But it was also the stupidest damn thing I’d ever done.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ANOTHER WEEKEND, ANOTHER SET OF TAGGED PHOTOS OF THE NEPO BABY
GREER
Imight not have beenseeing Tripp until Sunday, but I’d heard from him.
And a lot more frequently than I’d expected to.
Mostly, his texts were about things I needed to know—like his address, security system code, and schedule changes he didn’t want to forget to tell me. But he also texted random check-ins, asking about my day, what I was up to, if I had plans.
And every day, including right then, he texted the same thing.
TC: Come to dinner with me.
And every day, I texted him the same thing.
Me: I can’t.
That wasn’t the truth. I could’ve. But I knew it would be a mistake.
TC: Exciting plans?
I held in a snort that would’ve echoed in the nearly empty room.
That emptiness was exactly why Friday nights were bestie laundry time. And although Wren and Maddie were shockingly both there and not off with their men, neither were doing any washing.
They got their clothes cleaned elsewhere now.
Those laundry philanderers.
