Page 82 of Sweet Trouble
“Okay,” Jillian said. “Let’s go undercover.”
Tripp took her hand again and led her onto the dance floor, just as the song melted from a popular pop tune into Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love.”
“Oh, this is a good one,” Tripp murmured, pulling her into his arms.
He held her so close that she was sure he could feel her heart thundering. But he was a total gentleman, which Jillian appreciated, especially in front of the kids.
He was still Tripp Lawrence, though, so she wasn’t really surprised when he started crooning the lyrics in her ear, just loud enough for the kids around them to hear and start giggling.
“Tripp,” she murmured. She was blushing, but she couldn’t stop smiling anyway. He was a romantic man—a big, beautiful, silly man who was going to pull her out of her organized life and help her to finally have somefun.
By the end of the song, she was giggling and he was singing in full voice, completely unembarrassed to serenade her in front of the kids.
As Jillian caught her breath, she spotted two boys running to the back of the gymnasium, where they joined two more. All of them were carrying huge, bulging trash bags.
“Oh dear,” she said to Tripp. “Duty calls.”
“Can I help?” he offered.
“Sure,” she told him. “Let’s see what’s going on with these four.”
He scanned the gymnasium as he followed her.
“Oh wow,” Tripp said as the boys ducked out into the hall. “You have a good eye for trouble.”
“Let’s see what they’re up to,” she said.
She pushed open the doors between the gym and the hallway, blinking at the harsh light, and then followed the sound of laughter toward the main offices.
Tripp moved along beside her, staying quiet without her asking. He was probably thinking the same thing she was—that the kids would scatter if they realized the adults were watching.
“I know what this is,” he murmured as they rounded the next corner. “And I know what’s in the bags.”
She nodded to him, glad that at least he knew what was going on. But it was a prank, and he’d been a prankster, so that tracked.
Not when it came to asking me to the formal. I managed to prank myself on that one.
She put the thought out of her mind and focused on the kids.
They were in the main office now—she could see them through the glass. And they had brought their bags right to the principal’s door, where a half-dozen other bags waited. This clearly hadn’t been their first trip.
They might have been done and slipped away already, but they were having trouble with the door.
“Seen enough?” Tripp asked her.
“Yes,” she said. “We’d better stop them before they get into any real trouble.”
Tripp marched into the office, his brisk footsteps causing the four boys to freeze in place.
One by one, they looked up athim, eyes wide.
“We’re not doing anything, Coach,” the leader of the little crew said, swiping his hair from his forehead and narrowing his brown eyes.
“I know exactly what you’re doing, Kowalski,” Tripp said. “You’re standing outside the principal’s office with a hundred balloons.”
Balloons?
“It wasn’t going to hurt anything,” a smaller boy protested. “It’s just super funny.”
