Tripp tensed, and I hurriedly whispered, “Want me to deal with her?”
He shook his head, his pleasant mask falling into place.
Well,pleasantmight’ve been an overstatement.
He turned as the attractive woman reached us.
Her grin was so big, it had to hurt. “Hi. I’m a big fan. Like, such a big fan. I would’ve regretted it if I didn’t say hi.”
Maybe I should’ve told her to kick bricks. Her long legs could probably launch them across the parking lot.
“And my boyfriend is an even bigger fan,” she continued, making me regret my inner bitchiness. “He always says you’re the only action hero who seems to enjoy the movies.”
“He’s right, I do,” he said. “What’s your name?”
I tried to inch backward toward my door so they could talk, but Tripp hooked a finger in my front belt loop without missing a beat in his conversation.
I…
That’s…
Huuhhnnn.
My brain started working enough to register how intimate that hold probably looked. I discreetly extricated myself but remained close. Still holding his phone, I scanned the influx of notifications on his freshly shared video to make sure there wasn’t another tag. While I looked, another thought hit me, and I brought up an app in the store. I started to lower the phone so I could talk to him about it first.
And say what?
‘Hey, can I install a tracker on your phone?’
He’ll think I’m deranged.
It wasn’t like I was trying to stalk him. Not really. I used the app with Maddie and Wren for emergencies. But it would be handyto have access to his location if I got lost again, and he was too busy to perform a search and rescue.
Placing it on there was just me doing my job.
In the name of efficiency.
Better to ask forgiveness than permission.
Heart hammering in my chest, I clicked install and punched in his passcode, hoping like hell it downloaded fast.
And then I let out a guilty yelp when he rumbled, “Greer.”
My attention snapped to him as I pressed the screen against my chest. “Hmm?”
“Do you have a pen and paper for an autograph?” he asked, his too sharp gaze studying me.
“Do I have a pen and paper?” I scoffed with too much forced humor. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
Juggling his phone because I wasnotabout to hand that over yet, I grabbed paper and a pen from my bag.
Tripp ripped the paper in two before graciously signing one piece to her and one to her boyfriend. When she eagerly thrust her phone at me, I took a handful of pictures of them together, plus a quick video of Tripp saying hi to her boyfriend.
The woman looked ready to perish of pure joy, and, shockingly, so did Tripp. He might’ve started out annoyed, but the negativity had quickly disappeared.
Maybe her relationship status isn’t a dealbreaker for him…
After handing back her phone—and visually confirming a thousand times that I hadn’t mixed them up—I turned his on to see the app was on the homescreen. I moved it into a folder with his calendar and socials apps, hoping he wouldn’t bother to look inside.
