Page 16

Stealin’ Love – Leigh-Anne

Addie

Nathalie: Hi, Addie! Just wanted to let you know the tooth fairy visited Nora last night and left two hundred dollars. So sorry.

Maren: I regret nothing. She deserves to be spoiled rotten.

Sawyer: We tried to tell her the tooth fairy makes mistakes, but she didn’t believe us. So we lied to her and told her you only get big money for the first tooth.

Nathalie: We think she bought it…She’s scary smart.

Maren: The indoctrination is going wonderfully.

Me: I’m sorry…what? You’re indoctrinating my child?

Maren: Into caring for the environment and protecting the ocean, yes. As I said, it is going splendidly.

Me: Got it. Carry on.

Nathalie: We’d love to have another sleepover with her, if you ever need alone time ;)

Sawyer: That is, if you don’t get a restraining order because Maren decided to indoctrinate your kid.

Me: Is she having fun?

A photo of Nora smiling at the table, chocolate chip pancakes stacked in front of her, appears on my screen. Her front tooth is missing, but the joy on her face is evident. A massive black dog sits on the floor beside her, its tongue sticking out.

I’ve never had anyone to help take care of Nora, or dote on her in a way I can’t as her parent, but Declan’s friends are filling a void they didn’t know existed. She’s going to talk about this sleepover for weeks, and selfishly, it’s freeing to have people to lean on and take time away from her without guilt or worry.

Sawyer: She might pester you for a puppy.

Me: Oh dear.

Maren: Ragnar is one cute pup. Can’t blame Nora for wanting one of her own.

Nathalie: Like I said, she’s having so much fun! Please don’t stop speaking to us, we love her.

I huff a laugh, and Declan stirs behind me, arm tightening around my waist. He drags me against his chest, and my heart flutters as he places a soft kiss on my shoulder.

“Morning,” he whispers, voice still thick with sleep.

He peppers kisses up the column of my neck, and I shiver when he nibbles at my earlobe. His erection digs into my back, and my hips shift on their own accord, pressing into him.

A low groan fills the room, and his hand tightens on my waist. “Adeline,” he admonishes.

He breathes deeply, the exhale tickling my neck before he releases me, and the bed shifts. A small light in the corner clicks on, and I choke on a laugh.

Declan’s hair sticks out at wild angles as he trudges around the room. I lean up on my elbow to watch him as he digs through his suitcase. My phone dings while I’m taking a sip of water.

Declan: Enjoying the view?

The water sputters out of my nose and all over the floor. Another ding.

Declan: I’ll take that as a yes.

“Why are you texting me?” I cough, expelling the last of the liquid.

He wears a smug smile. “More fun.” Declan walks over to the edge of the bed, leans down, and takes my lips in a searing kiss. “You’d better get ready for the day.”

“What time is it?!” I yell, launching from the bed.

Oh, god.

“Six-thirty.”

I sigh in relief. I don’t need to meet the chef in the kitchen until seven-thirty. He stops me when I’m at the door and drags me back for one more kiss. I fall into him, and revel in the airy feeling in my brain, like I’m floating on a cloud when he kisses me.

“See you later.” He shoves me out the door, and I stumble into the hallway. I spin around, jaw on the floor. He winks at me. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

Declan blows me a kiss, then slams the door shut.

A surprised smile tugs at my lips as I stand in the hallway and stare at his hotel door.

I start to walk away when I hear, “You were wearing those clothes last night.”

Deon smirks as he leans against the wall.

“Mind your business, Adams.”

“He is my business.” There’s an undertone to his statement that gives me pause. He looks me up and down, assessing. “Don’t break his heart.”

The truth tumbles out of my mouth immediately. “If anything, he would break mine.”

Last night made me realize something: Declan could obliterate me if I let him.

The wind whips my hair as the temperature dips on the field.

I hate night games in open stadiums.

Freezing my tits off is my base temperature, and as the sun drops below the horizon and the flood lights flash on, my teeth begin to chatter. The only reason I haven’t turned into a popsicle is from running up and down the sideline. Partially to keep players hydrated, but also to keep feeling in my fingers.

Not even the body heat radiating off the offensive line is enough to cool the bitter chill.

Nashville Cowboy fans cheer as their defense takes the field, chanting for a three-and-out. I steal a moment to find Declan, lined up at the line of scrimmage close to the home team sideline.

There’s something incredibly arousing about watching him run down the field, the thick, corded muscles of his thighs working to propel him forward.

It’s not as cold now that I’m turned on.

My time is split making sure players stay hydrated, offering sideline snacks, and drooling over Declan. You could say I am a professional multitasker.

The ball is snapped, and the sideline quiets as Deon scans the field, searching for the open player. The football spirals through the air and lands right in Declan’s awaiting hands. He slips a defender and sprints into the endzone.

Players roar with excitement, and I cheer alongside them, pride coursing through my veins as Declan celebrates in the end zone. He wiggles and shakes, then stops in front of the camera. He says something, waves, and then begins to run off the field.

Special teams take position for the extra point kick, and I hurry along to make sure the offensive players have water. I shove a handful of fruit snacks in my pocket for Henry and weave through the crowd of players, congratulating them.

A hand glides along my lower back, and I step forward to make way for whoever needs to move through, only the weight persists and slides down toward the globe of my ass. My body reacts before my brain and my elbow jams into the gut of the asshole who thinks they have the right to touch me.

The dickhead groans.

Oh god, I know that groan.

I whip around and Declan is leaning forward, hands on his knees as he catches his breath.

“That wasn’t my smartest decision,” he groans.

Jack and Deon give us odd looks, but his position covers the agony on his face, so it looks like he’s catching his breath, and not recovering from attack.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, “It was instinct. My brain wasn’t expecting to be touched like that at work.”

He raises a hand. “This makes me less concerned about your safety.”

“You’re concerned about my safety?”

My chest bursts.

“Well, now I’m concerned about mine. Any lower and my balls would have been in my stomach.” I snort, but hand him a water bottle once he’s standing upright. His eyes flicker along my body, and I shiver. His brows furrow. “Are you cold?”

He mistook the reaction, but also, yes. All the time.

“It’s a bit chilly.” Goosebumps pebble my flesh, as if to prove my point.

Declan frowns and spins, searching the sideline. He spots what he’s looking for and jogs over to the equipment manager. There’s a sweatshirt in his grip when he returns.

Before I can protest, he slides the massive hoodie over my head. When my head pokes out, he pauses, and his eyes burn with want . My knees wobble.

I drop my water bottles to slide my hands through the sleeves.

“Stay warm,” he says, backing away.

“Where are you going?” I call out.

The distance between us grows, and his smile grows. “Far away from you!” he yells, “You’re distracting me while I’m at work.”

He spends the rest of the game on the opposite end of the sideline, and we only interact when he needs water. I am the picture of professionalism, only ogling him when his back is turned. The seconds tick away at the end of the fourth quarter, and the players begin to celebrate the win.

I collect stray water bottles and snacks and put them back into bags to carry to the locker room when the equipment manager passes by.

“Brad!” he pauses, bags hanging over his shoulder. “Let me give you the sweatshirt back.”

I start to pull it over my head when his words stop me. “The sweatshirt belongs to Monroe. Made an intern get it from his bag in the locker room.”

He continues, but I stand rooted to the ground.

Declan’s small gesture shouldn’t mean as much as it does, but there’s something special about knowing he cares enough about me to send an intern on a mission to keep me warm.

I hear Nora far before I spot her.

Maren’s home sits on a large plot of land, and I work my way through the back gate like instructed to the greenhouse where she told me they would be all morning.

The backyard is massive with a back porch spanning the entirety of the ranch-style home. There’s a grill in one corner, and a rocking swing in the other, and hanging pots of flowers along the trim.

Flower beds full of bright purple and pink impatiens line the staircase, but the showstopper is the massive glass greenhouse in the left corner of the backyard. A bright yellow door calls invitingly, and the interior is shrouded by dozens of plants.

I crack the door open, and Nora’s giggles fill the air, followed by Maren’s laughter. On quiet feet, I slip inside with the hope of watching them for a moment without notice.

Nora and Maren are kneeling on small foam blocks, and they’re elbow deep in a pot full of dirt. Smears of brown cover Nora’s face and clothes, but her smile illuminates as Maren hands her a plant, and Nora gently places it in the pot. They work together to pack in the soil, and when they’re done, Maren hands her a watering can and Nora diligently waters the plant.

My chest warms as I watch the joy on my daughter's face.

A clear my throat and Maren startles. “Fuck!” she yells, clutching her chest. She meets Nora’s wide eyes. “Shit.”

Nora laughs, holding out her palm, and Maren slaps a few bills into her awaiting hand. My daughter hasn’t noticed my presence yet, but when Maren stands and Nora follows, I gasp in disbelief, and that draws her attention.

Is my daughter wearing overalls?

“Mommy!” Nora runs over in bright pink overalls and a purple t-shirt with a unicorn and wraps her arms around my leg. She transfers her dirt onto my bare leg. “Come look!”

She takes my hand and drags me over to the planter where she and Maren were working. A small sapling stands crooked in the pot, but Nora beams with a bright smile at her handiwork.

“This is my tree,” she says proudly. “It’s going to grow oranges one day.”

“Is that so?”

She nods, and then drags me in another direction. Tomato plants vine up trellises along the wall, and there’s a large wicker basket full of vegetables.

“I picked these.” She tries to lift the basket, and Maren helps her carry it. “We get to take it home.”

“Why don’t you tell your mom what you had for dinner?” Maren prods with a coy smile.

“Pretty pasta!” she screams, like it’s the world's best creation. “It was a rainbow.”

I give Maren a look in hopes of an explanation, and she winks. “Nora? Why don’t you go inside and wash your hands, and I’ll bring in all of your veggies with your mom.”

“Okay!”

Nora sprints out the door and into the main house.

“Pretty pasta is pasta primavera,” Maren says with a shit-eating grin, “A small little fib, but she scarfed it down.”

Maren hands me a basket of picked herbs, and we work our way into the house. Nora is at the kitchen sink, standing on a stool to wash her hands, and I quickly pull out my phone to take a photo of her.

She looks so fucking cute in her pink overalls.

“Thank you,” I whisper to Maren, my heart overflowing with gratitude.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” she grimaces, then leads me to a corner in her living room.

Dozens of bags are stacked atop each other, and clothes and toys spill out of the bags. There are books and craft supplies, and at least four large stuffed animals.

“What is all that?”

“We went on a shopping spree…”

My stomach plummets with the price tag associated with the amount of things in the corner. Nora runs over to the bags and pulls out a sticker book and lifts it to show me. I offer her a watery smile.

This must have cost them hundreds of dollars. That’s money I don’t have.

“I-I,” I choke on my words, “I can pay you back for this.”

I’m running through the mental math and if I keep a tight budget the next few months I can make it work. Nora’s smile is what prevents me from asking Maren to return the items. She’s so excited—so grateful—it rots my insides with guilt I can’t give this to her.

Maren offers me a small smile and places her hand on my bicep. “Declan gave us his credit card.”

“ What? ”

“ He wanted to make her first sleepover special,” she says softly, her voice more gentle than I’ve ever heard from her. “I give him a lot of shit, but he’s one of the most caring people I’ve ever met.”

My heart beats in an inconsistent rhythm as I process Maren’s words.

He did this for her.