Page 16 of Stealing Forever (Bridge Point Bears Baseball #1)

It’s early evening when I get back to the hotel room after meeting with the team, and my stomach is turning sour from how hungry I am.

It’s quiet when I walk into the suite. The lights are off, and as I remove my shoes and kick them over by the bed, I realize the soft noise I’m hearing is the faucet in the bathroom.

Approaching the cracked door, I rap my knuckles against it. “Hello?”

“Daddy!” Sailor’s voice squeals, and as I push open the door, I find her covered in bubbles in the bathtub. They’re piled on her head, hanging from her chin like a beard, and covering her body from her collarbone down.

Next to her, Hailey is on her knees on the floor with a bar of soap in one hand and washcloth in the other. Water runs down her wrists to her elbows, and she’s somehow ended up with remnants of bubbles in her hair.

“You girls look like you’re having fun. What’d you do today?”

“We went to the ocean, Daddy!”

“No way!” I feign disbelief and watch Sailor’s eyes light up like she’s about to tell me the most adventurous story.

Of course, I already knew they were at the beach.

Hailey sent me several pictures of Sailor running away from the waves, too scared to even put her toes in the water because it was chilly.

She’s very much a lover of hot water only—doesn’t even like to get in pools unless they’re already lukewarm.

Can’t say I blame her, though.

“Did you play in the sand?” I ask, and Hailey laughs.

“That’s why she came straight to the bath! She wouldn’t swim in the ocean, but she certainly tried to swim in the sand. It’s even in her ears.”

“I buried myself! The sand was warm.”

Leaning against the bathroom wall, I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m so glad you had a good day, baby girl. Did you guys have dinner yet?”

“I ordered room service,” Hailey says, then smirks. “I have to put that credit to good use. Got you a burger with everything on it, and a side salad. Everything should be here soon.”

She ordered me dinner? Fuck, she’s perfect. “That credit is supposed to be for your spa treatments, not dinner.”

“Declan Lane have you not figured out yet that the way to my heart is through a good meal? Although a massage is an easy way to get in there, too.” The way she looks at me tells me she means exactly how it’s coming out.

She’s giving me pointers on how to get her to fall for me, almost like she knows I want to let myself so damn bad.

Her green eyes bore into mine, sparkling as she works hard for her expression to give nothing away.

“Schedule a massage for tomorrow,” I urge.

“But the game?—”

“Doesn’t start until four. I don’t need to be at the stadium until two. Schedule one.”

“If you say so,” she concedes. There’s a small upturn of her lips as she adds more soap to the washcloth she’s still holding, presumably getting ready to scrub Sailor down.

Ever since I witnessed her reaction to the way I encouraged her while she got her stitches, I’ve had a theory about the effect my words had on her. So although I know this will have me tip-toeing over the line yet again, I say with approval, “Good girl.”

Her gaze snaps back to mine, and a blush settles on her cheeks in a deep rouge, only solidifying my suspicion more.

Hailey has a thing for praise.

God, I want to take her face between both of my hands and kiss her hard.

The only thing holding me back from crossing the room and just doing it is the stark reminder, who is splashing water all over the expensive hotel bathroom.

With a sigh, I look down at Sailor, effectively cutting off my improper thoughts about Hailey. “Hey now, I’ll take a shower when you’re all done. No need to cover me in bubbles, little girl.” I wiggle my finger at her like I’m being stern, but we both know I’m not.

Sailor has me wrapped around her finger and she knows it.

And uses it to her advantage.

“Come on girly pop, let’s wash your hair.” Hailey abandons the washcloth in her hand and adds shampoo to it instead, while Sailor turns in the tub, shifting so Hailey can wash her hair thoroughly.

It’s a routine they’ve clearly perfected over the months Hailey’s been with us. It’s hard to believe that she hasn’t been a permanent fixture in our lives with the way she handles Sailor. She’s a natural.

“You’re going to be an amazing mom one day,” I blurt before I can stop myself.

I’m not sure why I say it—I don’t even know if Hailey wants children of her own, but there’s a part of me that wants to know if children are in her future.

She looks a little gobsmacked and bites down on her lower lip, fingers still hard at work massaging Sailor’s scalp. “Thank you.”

“Do you want kids?” Fuck, stop talking Declan.

But it’s too late to take it back, and as inappropriate as it feels to be asking my goddamn nanny these questions, I’m telling myself it’s not a big deal.

Hailey and I are friends, right? Kind of?

She focuses on rinsing Sailor's hair, gently leaning her back beneath the running water as she cradles her head, running her fingers through the strands with the other hand to remove the soap.

Her lack of response has me growing anxious with the need to know. My mind’s spiraling, and in the mere seconds of silence I’m envisioning a life with her—filling her and creating a child with her. Her stomach swollen as he or she grows. Us becoming parents, together .

I’ve always wanted more kids, and I need to know if she wants them, too.

Even if I can’t be with her, and I can’t because I’m not willing to jeopardize the relationship she has with Sailor, I can let myself pretend and soak in the moments of happiness the thought brings me, if only in my mind.

“Yeah, I do. I love children, it’s why I decided to go into the field of early childhood education. I love being around littles.” She turns the water off and helps Sailor sit upright in the bath again, hair clean. “What about you?” she asks quietly.

“Yeah, I do too.”

She glances at me again before helping Sailor from the bath, wrapping a plush white towel around her. We don’t exchange any more words, and I can see her focusing on Sail, so I quietly leave.

There’s a lump in my throat as I walk over to the sleeper sofa, deciding to busy myself by setting it up for Hailey to sleep on tonight.

Tossing the cushions near the desk, I realize she’ll need linens and walk back over to the small closet next to the bathroom.

The girls aren’t in my line of sight, and although I’m not trying to eavesdrop as I grab a fitted sheet, pillow, and blanket, I can’t help it.

I always listen when my daughter speaks.

“Can we go to the beach again tomorrow?” she asks with excitement.

“Probably not, sweet girl. We’ll be at the baseball stadium most of the day. Don’t you want to watch Daddy’s team play?”

“Yes! Can I get a hot dog, too? Daddy says I’m only allowed to eat them when I’m watching baseball.”

Hailey laughs. “He’s right. You shouldn’t eat too many hot dogs. You’ll get a tummy ache. Arms up.”

The rustle of fabric muffles Sailor’s grumble of disapproval.

“Guess who you get to meet tomorrow?” Hailey says with the same level of excitement as Sailor had over the beach.

“Who?”

“My sister!”

“You have a sister?”

“I sure do. She’s my twin. Do you know what a twin is?”

Her response is silence, and I rack my brain wondering if she would know what a twin is. I don’t remember ever explaining it to her, and I know for certain she’s never met anyone that was a twin.

“A twin is when a mommy has two babies in her tummy, and when you’re born, a brother or a sister is also born on the same day as you.

” I can hear a hairbrush being run through Sailor's hair, and I am tempted to peek around the corner, but don’t.

“Sometimes twins look the exact same, and sometimes they don’t.

My sister and I don’t look the same, but we were born just a few minutes apart.

” Her explanation is perfect, but why wouldn’t it be?

She’s studied how to speak to children for years.

After a few seconds, Sailor asks, “What’s her name?”

“Her name is Hartley. And you know what? She can’t wait to meet you.”

With a smile on my face, I stop listening to their conversation and go back to the couch, ready to get it set up for Hailey. I put the linens on the desk, then take a quick look at the instructions sewn into the inside of the couch, and reach down to extend it.

Only to discover that the damn thing won’t pull out.