Chapter 10 #2
Traffic was never light in LA, but I’d seen the sports car outside of his house. It was an easy bet that thing could swerve in and out of the constant backup of cars in ways my Rover could only dream of.
I risked another glance at him just as he looked down to catch my eyes. His mouth curved. “I can feel you staring at me.” He gave a flourished gesture to his face. “Is it not my color?”
“No, no, the color match is good. You just might need a little bit of blending.”
Stopping to face me, he raised his index and middle fingers to touch a spot of foundation or concealer or whatever makeup magic they used.
“Here?” He spread it across his forehead, ruining the precise layout.
“Or here?” Another spot, another smear that went toward his jaw, lightening a patch of stubble.
“Or maybe here…” he said slowly before launching his surprise attack.
Grabbing my arm with his clean hand, he ran his makeupy fingers across my cheek.
With a startled squeak and a burst of laughter, I tried to jolt back, but his hold tightened as he gripped my upper arm and palmed my cheek.
My laughter cut off at the burst of wildly inappropriate fire that shot through me. Like the previous times he’d held me like that, the surge of desire was shocking.
And unfamiliar.
Even in the hottest, most intimate moments with Josh, I’d never felt that kind of intensity.
I need to research if arms are an erogenous zone.
And maybe wear a big puffy coat to dampen the sensation in the meantime.
Tripp’s own smile faltered as his hand cupping my cheek reflexively squeezed. After a long moment that seemed to stretch until I forgot how to speak, he released my face to show me the clean ring and pinky fingers he’d touched me with. “Don’t worry, your pretty face is safe.”
It took me a second to realize that he’d misconstrued my abrupt mood change and thought I was concerned with the mess. Since that was easier than explaining a reaction I didn’t even understand, I let him think that.
Rolling my eyes at his phrasing, I stepped back as I scrambled for something to say before landing on, “Anything I need to know before we get in there?”
It was a valid question since I was flying blind.
“Nah. They’ll boss me around, get the recordings they need, then we’ll wrap. It’ll be boring as shit for you.”
I somehow doubt that.
I followed as he resumed walking and immediately saw the error of my ways. “The guy at the gate told me to turn right.”
That bastard.
“Impressive that you still ended up so close then,” he said, and I couldn’t tell if he was placating me. Or maybe mocking me. It didn’t seem like it, though. “We’ll ride together in the future.”
While you work through light traffic in a speed machine?
No thanks.
I kept that to myself since I didn’t need to add insulting his driving to my long list of faux pas I continued making despite my good intentions.
Even if I wanted to say anything, I lost the ability to when he opened the doors to chaos.
Chaos that ground to a halt at our appearance.
Okay, that was a little dramatic. Most of it continued as people messed with lights, cameras, and backgrounds. But there was a small group of people who stood nearby, clearly waiting for the star to return from his rescue mission.
I tried to fall back, but like at Hullywod, Tripp didn’t allow it. With a large hand on my lower back, he propelled me forward as he introduced me to the team. They likely had no interest in meeting a random assistant, but they were polite enough to fake it.
Tripp was guided to a long vanity with multiple mirrors and lights so bright, they were giving me a headache even from a distance. The makeup artist kept a smile on his face until he turned away from Tripp, then let it fall to show his annoyance at the mess that’d been made.
Oops.
He grabbed wipes before pasting his fake pleasantry back on as he cleaned the handsome slate to start over.
To be fair, Tripp probably shouldn’t have ruined the work that’d been started.
But also… It was dots. Maybe some primer under them, but not more than that.
It wasn’t like the man had spent hours crafting a full-face glam look just for Tripp to swan dive into a vat of makeup remover the second he was done.
It made me wonder how many people smiled to Tripp’s face while glaring behind his back. I also wondered if he was aware of it.
I bet he was. I got the feeling there was little he missed.
That has to get exhausting for Tripp.
I positioned myself out of the way and listened as one of the people in charge went through the plan for the day.
Since dragging out my portfolio would be a cumbersome pain—not to mention, a visceral, emotional one, all things considered—I made notes on my phone as she spoke.
Once she was done, I looked over to see if Tripp had any questions, notes, or needs. Instead, I saw his eyes were locked on me in the reflection, watching as if people weren’t fussing around him and waiting for his response. Or an expression change. Anything but the zoned-out way he was staring.
When the silence stretched, the woman tacked on, “Unless you have an objection to any of that.”
Tripp started to speak before the makeup artist let out a panicked noise. He carefully gave a thumbs up instead.
It took a lot longer and a lot more makeup than I expected for Tripp to look… basically the same. The same, but with an airbrushed finish. He stood and should’ve gone to the waiting team, but he moved to stand in front of me instead.
“Better job with the blending this time,” I joked, expecting him to laugh.
He didn’t. With his jaw clenched, his head tipped toward my phone in my hand. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“In the future, keep the texting to a minimum while you’re working.”
“I… Uhh…”
His rumbled words and the strictness of his tone caught me off guard, leaving me a stammering dummy. He wasn’t being a dick. If I had been texting on the clock, his warning was completely valid.
But after all I’d heard about Alex, I was surprised that Tripp had any limits as a boss. Especially one as frivolous as being on the phone when there was little else happening.
His authoritativeness also showed he was treating me like an employee and not a party buddy, though. It was what I wanted, and it made a little buzz of excitement swirl in my stomach.
“Say you understand, Greer,” he ordered, and that didn’t cause a little buzz of excitement.
It was a tremoring earthquake.
What the hell?
As scrambled as I felt, the need to not be in trouble in any way, shape, or form overrode everything else. I quickly turned my phone so he could see the screen that displayed the schedule for the afternoon.
“You were taking notes,” he muttered.
“It’s my job.” I wasn’t sure whether he would ever ask what was next or how long was left of the day, but I’d wanted to have the info available in case.
He opened his mouth to say something, but the woman in charge called, “We’re ready whenever you are, Tripp.”
With him standing so close, I could see and somehow feel the way his large body tensed even as he nodded to her.
Before he could move, I automatically reached out and touched his forearm. His eyes dropped to the connection.
Why do I keep doing this?
I started to yank my hand back, but he bit out, “Greer.”
I froze—hand still in place and everything—as my wide eyes shot to him.
He scanned my face before prompting, “What did you need?”
“Oh. Uh, I was just going to ask if you need anything before you get started. Water? Coffee?”
“Just to get this the fuck over with.”
Right.
Yup, that makes sense.
I should probably move my hand so he can go do that.
Why am I not moving my hand?
My body and my brain finally synced up enough to move it away. “Good luck then.”
He tugged his cell and keys from his pockets. “Do you mind? Last time, I was photographed with something in my pockets, it was a week of deep analysis about the bulge size. He held up the oversized phone before placing it in my outstretched hand. “I didn’t appreciate the downgrade.”
That joke—or maybe not joke— was enough to make my brain fritz out again.
Leaving me staring down at a phone that was much bigger than my hand.