Page 14 of Stealing Forever (Bridge Point Bears Baseball #1)

My palms sweat as I look up the boarding stairs, heart thundering. It’s not that I’m afraid of flying, it’s just that I don’t do it often, and I’ve certainly never boarded an aircraft from the tarmac.

This isn’t your everyday commercial flight.

The Bears chartered two jets to get the team down to Southern California, and because Declan wants his daughter there, I’m about to board with about half the team, and all the coaches.

Declan walks up behind me with Sailor holding his hand, looking like a movie star in his dark wash denim jeans, short sleeve black polo shirt, Bears baseball cap, and aviator sunglasses.

“You okay?” he asks, his free hand ghosting the small of my back.

“Just a little awestruck. I’ve never ridden in a private jet,” I admit while hiking my backpack further up my shoulders.

“The ones the team charter are usually nothin’ special. Especially for this short of a distance. Come on now, let’s go find our seats.”

The hand on my back nudges softly and I climb the stairs, holding onto the railing as I ascend. At the top, a flight attendant around my age gives me a warm smile.

“Good morning,” I greet her as I pass, then my jaw slackens at the sight of the inside of the plane.

Nothing special? It’s beautiful. New, plush seats in pairs of two that face each other and have small tables between them.

Some have magazines, while others have unopened decks of cards.

The windows are sparkling, and the flooring looks like it hasn’t been walked on.

“Is this plane new?” I ask Declan as I pick a window seat and set my backpack down beside it.

“Not to my knowledge.” He helps Sailor up into the seat next to me and fastens her lap belt before he takes off his own backpack and rifles through it, procuring her tablet a few seconds later.

Leaning over, I input the passcode for her while Declan sets up her headphones.

The moment Declan sits in the seat across from me, three of the Bears players walk onto the plane and straight to us. I recognize them from the barbecue—Gareth Fox, Austin Cooper, and Jensen Fields Jr.

“Ay! Coach’s here.” Austin beams at Declan, dropping down into the seat next to him.

“Hello, Austin,” Declan grumbles, but I’ve been around him enough to know he’s suppressing a smile.

Gareth ruffles Sailor's hair before he and Jensen take the seats across from us.

“Well, Coach. Are you ready?” Gareth asks as he gets comfortable.

“I think that’s a better question for you guys. How are you all feeling?”

While the men talk about baseball, I find myself studying Jensen.

I haven’t spent much time with any of these men, but so far, Jensen has been the biggest mystery.

Where Austin and Gareth are warm and inviting, Jensen is closed off and quiet.

Leaning back against his seat, he stares down at his phone.

He’s in a plain white T-shirt and jeans, and his Bears hat is backwards.

As far as I can tell, he’s covered in tattoos.

Both arms, with hints of ink peeking from beneath the collar of his shirt.

His energy gives bad boy , and I’m curious how he came to be such close friends with Austin and Gareth.

If he can feel me watching him, he doesn’t say anything, but as he presses the side button on his phone and lowers it to his lap, I divert my attention to Sailor.

“Good morning!” a feminine voice singsongs, stepping closer to where we’re all seated.

“My name is Lindsey, and I’ll be one of your flight attendants today.

We’ll be ready for takeoff in about ten minutes, and once we start taxiing, we’ll go over the safety procedures.

Is there anything I can get for any of you to drink in the meantime? ”

“Water, for me please, and an apple juice for my girl,” Declan answers immediately.

Lindsey’s eyes meet mine, ready for my order. “Diet Coke, please.”

She nods, then looks at Gareth. “Water.”

“Water,” Austin repeats.

When she gets to Jensen, I watch her eyes sweep over him appreciatively.

“Same,” he grunts, then glances beyond her as another teammate makes his way onto the plane.

“I’ll be back shortly!” Lindsey smiles and goes to the back of the jet.

The guys start talking about baseball again so I reach into my backpack and pull out my headphones.

Turning them on, I place them over my ears then pull up the audiobook I was listening to.

Typically audiobooks don’t hold my attention but I’m halfway through The Nightmare King by Kat Blackthorne and I’m absolutely obsessed—I can’t stop listening.

Closing my eyes, I let the book pull me into the story until I’m watching Lucy and Mare come to life in my imagination. And before I know it, we’re twenty-thousand feet in the air.

“Wow,” I gasp under my breath as Declan, Sailor, and I step inside of The Winslow Hotel, a fifty-story building centered in the heart of downtown Rosemoor.

Growing up in Southern California, we visited Rosemoor once or twice a year for beach vacations, but never spent much time downtown because it just wasn’t safe.

I’m surprised to see such a luxurious hotel here now, but from what I could tell from the short drive from the airport, Rosemoor is trying to change their reputation.

Pristine, oversized white and silver tile floors complement the spectacular vaulted ceilings of the lobby.

Everywhere you look is glittering from crystal chandeliers and silver accents shined to perfection.

Plush, ruby red couches frame the seating area, facing the reception desks, but the showstopper is the three-tiered fountain in the middle.

Pulling out of Declan’s grasp, Sailor sprints to it, her tiny hand dunking in the water before either of us can react. Abandoning the suitcase he’s rolling, Declan jogs over and swoops her into his arms.

She hangs in his hold playfully, dipping her head back and giggling as he lightly tickles her stomach. “Daddy, I want to touch the water!”

“Maybe we can go swimming in the pool later. Not in the dirty fountain.” Placing her onto her feet, he grabs her hand again, then reaches for their shared suitcase.

I reach for it at the same time, and my fingers grip the handle first. “Let me get it. You take care of Sailor.”

“Absolutely not.” His response is immediate, and a jolt of electricity sparks through me when he clasps his fingers over mine. “I already feel guilty I don’t have a third arm to manage your bag, too. You’re not taking mine.”

The conviction in his eyes takes my breath away and I release the handle, but don’t move my hand. The little voice inside my head is screaming, ‘Hold his hand, see what he does!’ But I ignore her.

Still, every nerve ending in my body is sizzling with a heat I feel creeping onto my cheeks.

“We should check in,” he murmurs, his voice tight like he’s holding himself back from something.

My head nods on its own accord. “Yeah. Let’s get Sailor settled.”

“I want to swim,” Sailor whines, tugging on Declan’s hand.

“In a while,” he promises, then together they walk over to the reception desk.

“Welcome to The Winslow Hotel. Checking in?” We’re greeted by a man in a three-piece suit with an eyebrow piercing.

Kail, his name tag reads, and I can’t help but hold in a laugh because even behind his uniform I know he fits the perfect hipster Southern California persona.

I immediately want to be his best friend and introduce him to Hartley.

“Yes. Declan Lane.”

“Wonderful.” Kail types Declan’s name into the computer. “Perfect, here you are. King suite for three nights.”

“What? No. I booked the penthouse.”

Kail’s eyes dart from Declan to his computer screen. “Unfortunately, that’s not what I have here. Let me see…” his voice trails off as he concentrates, clicking his mouse furiously.

Declan drops Sailor’s hand and pulls his phone out, his attention completely diverted from his daughter, so I pick her up and put her on my hip.

“No, see, right here my confirmation says penthouse.” Declan turns his phone, holding it out for poor Kail, who’s now visibly nervous, to see.

“Let me call my manager over to help.”

Three minutes later, a balding older man power walks over to us, smiling in an overenthusiastic way. “Hello, hello! Welcome, welcome! What seems to be the trouble?”

Kail brings his manager up to speed, and he starts clicking through the computer prompts, as though the answer to the problem might magically appear.

“Hmm,” he hums, and I briefly wonder if he has a stylish name, or if it’s something like Bob or Larry.

“It seems as though we’ve overbooked the penthouse and the system automatically placed you in our next best room, which is an ocean view suite with a king-bed and a pull-out couch.

I understand it’s not the penthouse, but I assure you, Mr. and Mrs. Lane, this suite is quite luxurious. ”

He thinks—oh.

“We’re not married,” Declan and I say at the same time. I blush when our eyes meet briefly as he continues overexplaining. “She’s my daughter’s nanny. I booked the penthouse for the convenience of the dual bedrooms.”

“I see.” The manager sympathetically nods profusely, staring at the screen. “I’m so sorry.”

“Let’s just book an additional room or suite, then,” Declan grumbles, placing his phone down on the counter a little too roughly. The manager startles.

“Sir, I’m so sorry, but we’re at capacity.” He taps his finger against the top of the mouse nervously. Behind him, Kail is stone-faced but watching closely.

Maybe he’s a new hire.

Declan pinches the bridge of his nose. “What do you mean at capacity?”

“We have no additional rooms available.”

I can see Declan’s frustration bubble to the edge of his patience, threatening to spill over. Placing my hand on his arm seems to ground him slightly, and he looks down at it, before connecting his gaze to mine.

“It’s okay. We’ll make it work. You and Sailor take the bed, I’ll take the pull-out couch.”