Page 2 of Stealing Forever (Bridge Point Bears Baseball #1)

“No, wait! Don’t grab that, it’s?—”

The bag of flour hits the kitchen floor with a heavy crash , going everywhere, and leaving the air clouded in an explosion of hazy white.

“—going to fall.” Sighing, I bend over to pick up a now crying Sailor. Her thumb immediately goes into her mouth for comfort as I pat her back. “It’s okay, it was an accident.”

Flour is everywhere— a full Costco-sized ten-pound bag more than half emptied on the tile. Sailor’s covered in it, as am I, and I know it’s going to be a disaster to clean.

“C’mon, let’s get you into the tub.” The cookies can wait. So can the mess.

Turning off the oven, the sounds of keys rattling in the lock pull my attention to the front door. Of course he’s home early, the one night.

Seconds later, my boss's face comes into view as he steps into the house. He’s wearing his Bears T-shirt and hat, with his overgrown hair peeking past the sides, and a heavy backpack thrown over his shoulder. He takes that thing everywhere.

When Declan Lane sees his daughter and me, his grin slips as his eyes rake over us. “What happened?”

Tossing his keys into a basket, he drops his bag before stalking toward us, hands outstretched when he’s a couple steps away. Sailor pulls from me and reaches for her dad, nuzzling in his arms when he takes her. Flour transfers, clinging to his black shirt.

“We had a bit of an accident.” Embarrassed, I brush my shirt, trying but failing to make myself more presentable. “We were making cookies and the bag of flour took a tumble...”

“Oh no.” Declan’s eyes widen at Sailor, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Is the kitchen a big mess?”

She nods her head yes, still sucking her thumb. Gently, he pulls it from her mouth. We’ve been working together to try and break her of the habit.

“That’s okay.” He kisses the side of her head. “Accidents happen. Do you want me to give you a bath, or Ms. Hailey?”

“Ms. Hailey,” Sailor tells him, shimmying against his hold. He places her on the floor, and she comes back to me and takes my hand. Pride settles in my chest at the simple gesture that means so much.

Before I started working for the Lane family, I was terrified Declan’s daughter would be a nightmare, or wouldn’t bond with me. There’s a reason why his past nanny quit, right? Although the conversation never came up, I’m not daft enough to think I’m the first nanny he’s hired.

“I’ll clean up the kitchen when I’m finished,” I promise Declan as I lead Sailor through their living room.

His only response is a grunt, but that’s nothing new. Declan is a good man and an excellent father from what I’ve seen, but he’s not overly chatty. Typically, by the time he gets home, he looks like he’s exhausted.

Once I have Sailor bathed and in her jammies, I settle her on the couch and put a movie on, then ready myself to deal with the mess in the kitchen.

Only, when I step around the counter island, the floor is spotless. In fact, the whole kitchen is completely clean.

A beeping catches me off guard, causing me to jump, slamming my hand against my chest. Turning, I realize Declan put the cookies in the oven.

My heart flips.

Pulling them out, I transfer the delicious treats onto a metal cooling rack before sliding the next batch in.

When I turn around, Declan’s leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, watching me. His hair is a mess from wearing a hat all day, curling around his ears, and he’s filthy—his T-shirt and jeans have dirt—and now flour—clinging to them.

Swallowing hard, I avert my gaze and pretend that I’m not insanely interested in him, and turn to clean a non-existent messy spot on the counter.

I shouldn’t be this attracted to him. For one, he’s eleven years older than me. And he’s my boss. And a single dad. And my boss .

“You didn’t have to clean up this giant mess.” My voice is a lot breathier than it should be as I scrub the already sparkling stove. “I had planned to after Sailor's bath.”

“I know, but you’ve been with her all day. It wasn’t a problem.”

“You worked all day,” I counter. Glancing over my shoulder, I notice he’s now leaning against the island, leaning on his forearms. His gaze is dropped to his phone lying on the marble, and whatever he’s looking at is making his brows furrow.

Once again, I try not to stare.

I’ve worked for Declan for almost three months now, and I still haven’t built an immunity against his charm. The pathetic thing is, he’s not even trying to be charming. He just is.

Even if I was interested in him, which I’m not , I’m not his type.

I’ve seen photos of Sailor’s mom. She’s stunning. Petite. Brunette. Tanned skin and chocolate brown eyes. A smile that I just know lights up every room she walks in.

Literally my opposite in every way.

I’m curvy, with flaming red hair, pale skin, and green eyes. I love myself, don’t get me wrong, but I know I’m not his cup of tea.

But again, I’m not interested in my boss.

“Fucking idiots,” Declan mumbles before locking his screen. Pushing it off to the side, he turns his attention my way. “Technically, you’re off the clock when I get home, Hailey. The least I can do is help out when I’m here.”

“It was a big mess though. So, thank you.”

“It was. Pretty sure you two shouldn’t be allowed to bake again. If this is what happens when there are cookies, I can’t imagine what the kitchen would look like if you girls baked a cake,” he teases, and I almost drop the plate in my hand. This is a side to Declan Lane I’ve never seen before.

Setting the plate in front of him, he grabs a warm chocolate chip cookie, and I shrug. “You won’t be saying that after you taste my cookie.”

Once the words leave my mouth, I realize I could have chosen better ones. And Declan must realize that, too, because he chokes on said cookie, coughing aggressively.

Heat instantly rises in my skin, embarrassment taking root throughout my entire body.

For several awkward seconds, we simply stare at each other. Then the bastard starts laughing .

Kill me. Just kill me now.

Spinning as quickly as possible, I busy myself cleaning up the last part of the kitchen by crumpling the used parchment and throwing it away, then sliding the baking sheet into the drawer under the oven.

Declan’s hot gaze follows me throughout each movement—I feel it, and if I had the ability to melt into a puddle and evaporate, I would.

Or I could live out my days as a puddle, too.

Anything would be better than feeling this heat slither up my neck and onto my face as Declan’s hot gaze bores into me.

I don’t dare turn around and show him how embarrassed I truly am.

I got to get out of here.

“Okay, well, I’ll leave you to it!” Springing into action, I toss the towel onto the counter, mentally calculating how quickly I can make it to the front door.

“Hailey, wait.” Declan’s still laughing, and even though now my back’s to him, I scrunch my nose and wave my hand in a weird and hasty departure.

Next to the door, I’m practically falling over as I bounce on one foot, tugging my sneaker onto the other. As I lose balance, my palm slams into the wall.

“Get home safe.” Declan’s low timbre sneaks up on me from behind, and I suck in a breath. He’s so close, I can feel the heat from his body and his breath as it dusts the back of my neck.

For a second, I think he’s about to wrap me in his arms, and I forget how to breathe. All I can do is stand still. I squeeze my eyes shut, and wonder if he can hear the gallop of my fight-or-flight heart.

Then, like a movie being unpaused, everything around us snaps back to reality—the blare of the show Sailor’s watching, her adorable laugh, the ringing of Declan’s phone in the kitchen.

He reaches around me, and twists the doorknob before moving his hand to grip the door, holding it open for me.

Blowing out a shaky breath, I glance up at him from over my shoulder. The look on his face is inexpressive—maybe even a little bored.

My heart sinks.

“Thanks,” I mutter, then grab my purse from the bottom shelf of the entryway table and hightail it out the door.

Once I’m in my car, I glance back at the house to make sure Declan is out of view, then slam my head against the headrest. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Squeezing my eyes shut for a second, I scoff at myself, shaking my head.

You won’t be saying that after you taste my cookie. You utter freaking moron.

Even in the darkness of my car, embarrassment heats my cheeks again .

After I’ve given the engine a few minutes to warm up, I make the drive back to my townhouse, about twenty minutes away.

Bridge Point has bloomed over the last few years, going from a city in need of a serious glow-up to a popular destination, its biggest draw being Coit Stadium and the Bears moving in. Having Ridgewood as a neighbor helped too, since the university brings over the college students.

Which is what brought me to town last year. I needed a change of scenery from Southern California, and decided to pursue my masters in education at Ridgewood U. I landed in Bridge Point simply for the slightly more affordable housing, then decided to do this semester fully online.

It’s better that way, considering my new position with the Lane family.

Oh, God.

My mind floats back to the look on Declan’s face.

Pressing my twin sister's name on my car’s screen, the phone begins to ring obnoxiously loud through the speakers, assaulting my eardrums until she answers.

“Hey,” Hartley greets me. Just hearing her voice sends calming frequencies through my body. I miss her so much.

Hartley and I are fraternal twins, although no one ever believes us because we’re so different, both physically and in personality.

I groan at my sister dramatically. “My words didn’t word properly again. I’m so embarrassed, Hart.”

Her laughter fills the car. “Oh no, now what’d you say? And to who?”

“Who do you think?”

“You embarrassed yourself in front of your smokin’ hot boss, didn’t you?”

“Yup.” I pop the p on purpose. “Start digging a hole.”

“For your body or his?”

“Mine, because I’ve already died from humiliation. In fact, I’m speaking to you from beyond the grave.”

Hartley exhales a laugh, and I can practically hear her eye roll. “Sorry. Can’t. I love you too much, plus I’m not made for manual labor.”

“Of course not. Much too lithe for that. How’s rehearsals going?”

“No, no. Don’t deflect,” Hartley scolds. “What’d you say to your boss?”

“I made chocolate chip cookies, which he ended up baking for me because Sailor and I made a giant mess and I needed to get her cleaned up. But then, when I took them out of the oven, he joked and said something like ‘you shouldn’t be allowed to bake’ and I said something like ‘you haven’t tasted my cookie yet. ’”

There’s a rustling behind the receiver, and as I slow for a red light, I white-knuckle my steering wheel, anticipating her response.

“What’s so bad abou—oh. OH. Hailey !” Hartley’s laughter fills the car so boisterously, I turn the volume down. She doesn’t stop laughing until the light turns green and I’m about to turn into my neighborhood.

“You can stop laughing now.”

“Only you could turn that into something more. Did he even put two and two together?”

“Of course he did. Immediately .”

“What was his reaction?”

“Same as yours. I should quit, right? That’s the only natural progression to this.”

“You better not! You love working for him.”

“ Loved . Past tense. I loved working for him before I made an ass of myself.” The repetitive click of my blinker competes against my words.

“Oh, stop. It’ll all be blown over by tomorrow.”

“When are you coming to see me?” I ask, putting my car in park. I leave it running, though, so I can finish talking to my sister. “I miss you, Hart.”

“I know, I miss you too. I think the Rebels play the Bears here next month. Will you be flying down? Or are you stuck up in Bridge Point with the kiddo?”

“I’m coming down! There’s going to be a few games, so Declan wants me and Sailor to come so he can still spend time with her when they’re not on the field.”

“I still can’t believe you ended up with a nanny job for the Bears coach. What are the odds we both end up connected to a baseball team in some capacity?”

“It’s pretty funny considering dad’s a football guy through and through.”

“Now we’re wearing jerseys for the wrong sports.”

“Technically, you’re the only one wearing a jersey. I’m wearing mac and cheese stains and flour on a T-shirt.”

“Ew.”

“Mmhmm. Alright, I just pulled into my driveway and need to go shower–I’m still covered in flour. I love you. Thanks for making me feel better.”

“Always a phone call away.”

“And a short plane ride,” I singsong the end of our mantra to her. It's the only thing that got us through the first couple months being separated for the first time ever . “I’ll see you next month.”

When the call disconnects, I turn my car off and grab my purse from the passenger seat, watching my surroundings as I exit my car and head for the house. You can never be too careful.

When I’m inside, I don’t bother turning the lights on and instead, drop my bag at my feet and schlep through the darkness up the stairs, ready to wash off the evidence of the day.

The mac and cheese.

Sailor’s snot residue.

The flour.

And most importantly, the freaking embarrassment that’s rooted into my mind.

And clothing.

All of it can wash down the drain with my jasmine and orange scented body wash.

Besides, tomorrow is a new day. Maybe Declan will forget all about my little word mishap by morning .

Maybe.

Hopefully.