Page 19 of Your Play to Call

And then this man does the unthinkable—he opens my door. My face must give me away.

“What? Is this weird?” he asks, still holding the door open.

“No. Just caught me off guard.” His hand lightly touches my lower back before I sink into the leather seat. It’s hard not to fixate on those strong hands.

I can’t remember the last time Dexter, or any of my dates did something like this. I’m used to a mad dash to get in the car, trying to minimize the number of people who would see. If they weren’t rushing, they’d be waving to whoever was trying to get our photo. When was the last time someone drove me that wasn’t my security detail?

“You still with me?” Tripp clicks his seatbelt in.

“Sorry. Yes. Still here.” I smile, trying to hide the embarrassment of taking a somewhat depressing, short trip down memory lane.

“No need to apologize. Thought we could do dinner somewhere low-key. I’m sure you already know that Seth—my new best friend—and all his security buds, will be a few cars back.”

He starts the car, a quick message about Bluetooth being connected flashes on the display, and loud music starts to play. My music. Notonly my music but a decently obscure live version of one of my earliest albums.

I press my lips together and look down at my hands in my lap. Tripp tries to turn the music down and off at the same time. It takes him a few seconds, and when the music stops, the tips of his ears are pink. He stares ahead.

“That is not ideal,” he says too quickly as he puts the car in drive. “Let’s pretend that didn’t happen.” He smirks at me, his face crimson. I nod in agreement even though I know this is something I won’t forget.

When he realizes I’m not going to say anything about it, he says, “It sounds like no one knows you’re staying here… I’m guessing from the lack of activity.” He quickly glances at me before we’re out of the security gate and on the road.

I must look at him with just a teeny bit of panic.

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” His smile reassures me. “I only brought it up because I’m thinking we’ll be able to fly under the radar tonight. Not that I don’t want to be seen with you. It’s just...” Tripp is rambling at this point. I press my lips together and look at him. “If you can’t tell, I’m nervous. Like really fucking nervous.” He chuckles alongside his confession.

“The big bad football player, who asked me out in one of those most public ways possible, is nervous?” I jab him in a way that lets him know I’m joking.

“I’m a fraud. I used all my confidence in that moment and then anything that was left went to Seth and the security check and now I’m—"

“Nervous,” I interrupt him, hopefully to give the poor guy a break. There’s a little sweat on his forehead.

“Did you hate that I did that? The thing with the paparazzi? I don’t know what came over me and I thought, hell, take your shot,but—"

“Definitely didn’t hate it,” I interrupt again, trying to help him chill out. With everything up to this point, Tripp has been nothing but cool, calm, and collected.

To be honest, I like that he’s nervous because that makes two of us.

We’re in a neighborhoodthirty minutes outside the city. Tripp pulls into a pretty sketchy-looking driveway. It looks like it’s meant for deliveries but there’s no discernible business nearby.

He opens my car door and says, “Promise. I cleared this with your security entourage.”

Tripp offers his hand, and I instinctively take it. What is it about a man wanting to hold your hand? As our fingers intertwine, I'm reminded of how strong he is. I mean, I know he's a professional athlete, but you don't really think about how powerful someone's hands can be.

Once I'm out of the car, he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leads me to an odd-looking side door. It’s locked, but he enters a numerical code and the door pops open. We step in, and I still can’t tell where we are.

“This way,” Tripp says while leading me up some stairs. It’s clear he knows his way around.

We reach another door which opens to the roof. It takes just a few steps to see the table, set for two, with candles, twinkly lights, and complete seclusion.

Swoon.

“What’s all this?” I ask as we walk towards the table.

“I know the owner and when he saw my little stint with the press, he offered a place for us to get away.”

He’s thought this out.

Tripp pulls my chair out, grinning while he does it. “Hope you’re hungry. This place has some of the best Italian food in the city.”