Page 47 of The Rocker

“Greer caught us coming out of my room.” They both frowned, looking toward Walker, instantly understanding why he was in the mood he was. “Yeah, it didn’t go the best, and he made it seem like he’d known about us.”

“Why do you say that?” Cross asked.

“Because he said something like we weren’t even trying to hide it anymore.”

“Well,” Kenton drew out. “You’re not as careful as you could be.”

“He hasn’t said anything to us,” Cross added. “Do you think he’ll go to Cristiano with the news?”

I started to gnaw on my bottom lip at the thought. We should have been more careful. It would kill me to be fired and for Crimson Heat to get another manager.

Cross tried to put his arm around my shoulders, but Walker wasn’t having it. He stopped dead in his tracks as if he could sense Cross’s intentions and glared at him.

“We won’t let anything happen to you,” Walker vowed, leaning down until our eyes met. “Do you hear me?”

“Yeah, I know you won’t. I can still worry about, it though.”

Sometimes it scared me with how much conviction he had in his words. Like tonight. I couldn’t let my fuckups cost him what he loved most.

“I thought we were going to order an Uber to take us to that restaurant?” Kenton asked.

Shit, I’d totally forgotten about the Uber I’d ordered. Pulling out my phone, it looked like our driver hadn’t made it to the hotel yet. “We need to head back to the hotel where he’s supposed to pick us up.”

We walked single file down the sidewalk back to our hotel to wait for our ride. I was happy Greer had previously said he was going to eat with some of the crew; otherwise, our dinner would have been more than awkward. Ever since Greer left our lunch in Greece, he’d been spending more and more time away from us, which was fine by me.

Thirty minutes later, we were being seated in a small restaurant up on North Bondi hill overlooking the ocean. I already felt more relaxed just seeing the ocean out the windows.

“Do you think we could go surfing tomorrow?” Kenton asked as he watched a bunch of surfers packing up their gear into their trucks.

He knew the answer to his question before he asked. “The answer to that would be a resounding no. It’s in your contract that you can’t do anything that would get you hurt, and surfing is one of those things.”

“What if I promised not to get hurt,” he looked at me, his big brown eyes giving me his best puppy dog eyes.

“I wish I could, but not unless you can convince Cristiano to give you a waiver that you’ll pay back all the money the tour would lose if you got hurt.”

“Fuck that,” Kenton huffed out.

That’s what I thought.

I’d barely picked up my menu to decide what I was having when my phone rang. Greer’s name lit up the screen, and a pit of doom settled in my stomach. I wasn’t sure why he was calling me, but whatever it was couldn’t be good. I showed Walker my phone before I took the call.

“Hello?” I asked innocently—like he hadn’t just seen Walker and me together only an hour ago.

“Pen?” He was quiet for a long moment before he cleared his throat. “Um, I need your help.” The words sounded strangled on his tongue. It was probably difficult for him to ask for my help, and as much as I didn’t want to help him. It was my job.

“Okay, where are you?” I pushed up from the table.

“I’m not sure. I’ll figure out how to send you my location from my phone.” Before I could say anything else, Greer hung up the phone.

I wasn’t sure how easily I’d be able to figure out his location from what he sent me. I didn’t have people sending me their locations often, but I would find him and then kick his ass.

Walker stood up, ready to follow me to the end of the Earth if I asked it of him. “What’s up?”

“He’s in trouble and asked for my help. You guys enjoy dinner, and I’ll see you at the hotel.” I turned to Kenton and gave him my best don’t do anything stupid stare. “Don’t go surfing.”

He held his hands up. “I won’t. You’ve got enough problems.”

“Thanks.” I gave him a grateful smile. Walker moved around the table and grabbed my hip. Looking up at him, I took in his concerned face. “What are you doing?”

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