Page 10 of Stealing Forever (Bridge Point Bears Baseball #1)

“Hailey is a lifesaver. I’m grateful to have her.

” Taking another pull of my beer, I shift my focus to the rest of the attendees and scope everyone out.

Cody doesn’t say anything further, and for a brief second I feel like I should offer to ask if Hailey would ever want to babysit before I think better of it.

It’s not my job to offer up her services—not to mention, I employ her full-time.

“So, Coach. Do you live in Bridge Point?” Dylan asks, clapping me on the back. He’s wearing light blue shorts with Hawaiian flowers, a plain white T-shirt, and brown leather flip-flops, leaning into the laid-back persona I’m stereotyping him to have.

“You can call me Declan. And yeah, Bridge Point’s my hometown. We moved a few times when I was a kid but always ended up back here. You?”

“Ridgewood.” He grins. “Born and raised, but I moved down to San Diego after high school.”

“What brought you back?” I let another swig of beer sit on my tongue for a moment before swallowing the crisp, bitter taste down.

His face drops for a fraction of a second before he smiles tightly.

From my peripheral, I see Gareth switch his weight from one foot to the other, as though he’s anticipating Dylan’s next words.

“My mom passed away, and our dad lives across the country. My little sister never left Ridgewood, so I moved back to be near her.”

“Bro, your sister is only a year younger than you.” Gareth’s eyes narrow for a beat.

“Yeah,” Dylan says sarcastically. “ Little sister.”

Gareth shakes his head and takes another drink.

I look between Gareth and his best friend, trying to figure out what the sudden shift in attitude is, before saying, “Well, you and your sister will have to come to a game sometime.”

Dylan beams. “Yeah! Indy would love that. If we can get her to take a night off from the bar, that is.”

Gareth mumbles something under his breath then takes a long drink before tossing the bottle into a trash can. He shakes his head and walks over to join Jensen a couple of tables over.

“She’s a bartender?” I ask politely, although I’m looking for an exit strategy.

“Yeah, at a biker bar in Ridgewood called Andromeda.”

“That’s cool.”

“Ever been there?” he asks curiously.

“Can’t say that I have.”

“We should all go sometime.” Dylan grins and pulls his phone from his pocket. Without looking back up at me, he adds, “Betcha we could get a round on the house.”

“Yeah, maybe after a home game sometime,” I tell him to placate him, but I have no intention of ever going to a biker bar with a man who looks like one of Sailor’s Ken dolls. Even if it is with a group.

Excusing myself from the conversation, I walk over and fire up the barbecue so I can get started on cooking. Everyone seems content for now, but I’ve been at enough of these things to know there’s a fine line between having a good time and being irritated that there’s no food.

It seems like the blink of an eye by the time I’m standing around the hot charcoal flipping the last few pieces of chicken.

I’ve spent the better part of my time at the grill chatting with the three men who’ve made it their mission to befriend me, and when Sailor finally arrives and flings herself at my legs, she holds me in a tight hug and says, “Hi, Daddy!”

“Hey, baby girl.” I pick her up, situating her on my hip like I’ve done so many times prior.

“Damn,” Austin mutters under his breath and I glance up to see Hailey walking through the gathering with a million-dollar smile on her face. Or at least that’s how much I’d pay just to catch a glimpse of it.

A swell of possessiveness inflates within me at Austin’s outward appreciation, but I can’t rip my gaze from her long enough to give a shit if he’s staring.

Hailey lights up the stadium as she keeps her sole focus on Sailor and I, unknowingly ignoring everyone who’s stopped mid-conversation to look at her.

She’s a vision, and she has no fucking idea.

“Hey,” she greets, stopping on the other side of the grill. A plume of smoke wafts from it, so she sways her hand, attempting to clear it from her face. “Hi, I’m Hailey.” She outstretches her hand to Jensen, then introduces herself to Austin and Gareth next.

My heart thunders in my chest as each of the guys grasp Hailey’s delicate palm in their hand, jealousy pulsing that I’m not the one touching her skin.

Needing a distraction, I introduce the guys to Sailor, and Gareth stretches his neck, looking around for his brother and nephew. “Let me go find Bodhi so the kids can play.”

As he stalks off, Sailor starts to squirm and asks me to let her down, then takes off running after him, excited to make a new friend.

Her pigtails bounce as she races past the table with the trays of sides we’re about to indulge in, and Hailey laughs. “I’ll go with her.”

As soon as she’s out of earshot, the two remaining sets of eyes snap in my direction.

“You didn’t tell us about her .” Austin tips his head at the fiery redhead getting further from view. “No wonder you’d rather be at home than go out with us.”

“You invited me out one time,” I deadpan.

“Yeah, and you declined.”

“Because Hailey had somewhere she needed to be.” Why the fuck am I arguing with him? “Help me get the chicken off the grill, would ya?” I thrust the tongs in his direction then glance at Jensen, shaking my head.

He shrugs. “You’ll get used to his shit. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree—wait until you meet his family.”

“What about you, Jensen?” I ask lightly. “Where’s your family tonight?

“Didn’t even invite them, Coach. A barbecue isn’t worth a trip up from SoCal. Not when we’ll be down there next weekend.”

“I get that. Are you ready for opening weekend?”

“Yeah, I just wish it wasn’t against the fucking Rebels.”

“It’s too bad they’re away games. Can you bring this tray to the table?” I extend a platter piled high with chicken in his direction.

“Yeah, no problem.” Jensen takes it from me then stalks off to go put it with the other food, and I can’t help but watch him as he leaves.

There’s a lot to unpack with him, and I’m not sure what his entire story is—I only know surface level from what he’s told me.

One thing I know for sure, though, is he’s going to be pissed if Owen Marsh does end up getting traded to the Bears midseason like Blake is pushing for.

Jensen has never told me why he hates Marsh so much, so as he returns to grab the second tray of meat, I ask him.

“What’s the deal between you and Marsh?”

Jensen freezes, his face immediately erupting into a scowl. “Why?”

I shrug, nonchalantly, like I’m not thinking about the impending trade. “Just wondering. I know he’s an issue for you, and I want to know why.” I don’t tell him it’s because I know I’m going to have to deal with their drama.

Glancing around to see who’s near us, Jensen sets the tray back on the small table, then folds his arms over his chest. “I went to college with him and his sister Layla—she was two years our junior. Owen and I never got along, despite being on the same team. He always had a chip on his shoulder thinking he was better than me—loved to talk shit. Dating his sister really pissed him off, but when I broke up with her, she turned into a woman scorned, and she and Owen decided to try to ruin my career, and my life.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, like he’s reliving it again.

Clenching his jaw, he exhales through his nose before continuing.

“She took false rape allegations to the dean and tried to get me kicked out of school. If I hadn’t had a friendly relationship with him, I would have probably been arrested too, but he knows my pops, and he also knows the type of shithead Owen is, so he basically interviewed a jury of our peers, and the allegations didn’t stick. ”

My jaw goes slack. What kind of asshole goes along with rape allegations just to ruin someone’s career? “You fucking kidding me?”

“I wish I was. It may have happened several years ago, but it’s not water under the bridge.”

“Can’t say I blame you. How old are you, Fields?”

“Twenty-six.”

So this probably happened a good four or five years ago. “Well, you’re handling it a hell of a lot better than I would in your position. I probably would have gone to jail for kicking his ass.”

Now I have to make sure I talk to Blake and try to talk him out of that trade.

Jensen shrugs. “I’m just trying to live my life. The less I have to see that asshole the better, but I give you my word that I won’t start shit while on the field. Can’t say the same off the field though.”

Despite the heaviness in our conversation, Jensen cracks a smile which I mirror.

“Just do me a favor and don’t get arrested. We need you out there,” I tease, although after hearing his story, I wouldn’t blame him if he was tempted. I give him credit for having the maturity to be the bigger man.

“Sounds manageable, Coach.” He picks up the tray again, and leaves to go place it on the table.

As he’s walking away, Sailor comes bounding back toward me at full speed, and I use my dad reflexes to catch her mid-jump. “I made a friend!” she squeals excitedly.

“That’s great, honey.” Hailey joins us, and I grin at her. “I take it you found Bodhi?”

“We did and he’s seriously the cutest. Him and Sailor get along perfectly. I have a feeling after dinner they’ll wear each other out.”

“Perfect. Easy night for us.”

Us .

Like we’re doing this thing together. Like we’re coparenting.

Our eyes meet briefly, lingering for a fleeting moment I wish would last much longer.

“Are you ready to eat, baby girl?” I tickle Sailor’s tummy, and she giggles as we walk over to the table of food before I pass her to Hailey.

Picking up a steak knife, I clank it a few times against the side of an empty beer bottle sitting on the edge of the red and white gingham cloth.

“Good afternoon, everyone.” My heart beats wildly in my chest as I address the large group, swallowing the lump in my throat.

I hate public speaking, which is crazy considering every game I coach is in front of thousands of people.

“I want to welcome you to Coit Stadium, home of the Bridge Point Bears! If you’ve never seen my ugly mug before, I’m Declan Lane, and as of this year, I’m the head coach. ”

“More like shit show coordinator!” Gareth calls from a few tables over, and everyone laughs.

My head nods in agreement. “Shit show. Team. Family. However you want to reference the Bears, I’m just proud to be their coach.

We have a killer group of ballplayers, and I look forward to a great season.

Opening day is next Thursday, and while I’m bummed we won’t be playing our first games at home, I’m grateful all of you fine people could join us for our annual celebration today.

So eat up everyone, because there’s enough food to feed at least four major league teams. Thanks for coming. ”

The chatter resumes as I close out my impromptu speech and rejoin Hailey and Sailor. Grabbing onto Sailor’s small shoulders, I squeeze them gently.

“I hate speaking to crowds,” I tell Hailey honestly before I let go of Sailor’s shoulders, and grab her hand instead.

“You did great,” Hailey assures me. “Truly. I would have stumbled over my words and probably would have started crying, too.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Gesturing to where everyone has begun lining up, Hailey and I follow suit.

“Oh, I assure you that’s exactly what would have happened. There’s a lot of people here,” Hailey says, keeping the conversation flowing.

“Yeah, there’s a great turnout this year. The last couple of years it’s been a lot smaller. I’m glad to see so many people came this time. It’s probably because we aren’t playing opening weekend at home, though. Been a few years since that’s happened.”

The line continues to move forward.

“Maybe,” she muses, a hint of a smile perking the corner of her mouth up. “Or maybe you just have a good relationship with your team, and they wanted to share that with their loved ones.”

Her words strike a chord, and I grin like a fool. When she turns to grab a couple of plates for us, my eyes rove her body.

I can’t help it.

She’s too fucking sexy.

As she hands me a plate, I know I’ve been caught looking. Hailey doesn’t call me out on it though, and instead she smiles and glances at the ground before reaching over to grab us some forks.

But when her hand meets the basket where the plastic utensils are sitting, she accidentally knocks a few to the ground.

“Shoot,” she mutters, then a cold blast of fear sweeps through my bloodstream as she bends to pick them up, and a sickening thud penetrates through the open air as her head connects with the metal folding table.