Page 5 of Stealing Forever (Bridge Point Bears Baseball #1)

I’ve been sitting in my car in front of the Lane house for the last few minutes, giving myself a pep talk before going inside.

Throughout my entire exam, my thoughts strayed to Declan and his abrupt dinner invitation. It had come out of left field, baseball pun only semi intended, and even though I knew I should say no, I found myself saying yes instead.

There was something etched into Declan’s expression that had me intrigued.

Maybe it was the slight furrow of his brow, or the nervousness that flashed through his chestnut-colored irises.

He looked like he was toeing the line between employer and friend , which is a title I’m not sure applies to us.

We aren’t friends… At least, I don't think we are.

It made me wonder what was going on inside of that handsome head of his.

Throughout the duration of the exam, I had to keep trying to persuade myself that I said yes so easily because of Sailor, but deep down, I know I said it for myself.

My dumb ass is attracted to my boss, even though I’ve tried to deny it since the moment he hired me.

Even though I have full confidence in myself to remain professional, I still can’t help but want to know him better. I fantasize about the process of getting to know him better… frequently.

Truth be told, Declan is a very busy man, and even though I work long hours in his home, our interactions have been minimal, reduced to a quick conversation after he comes through the door, or a series of short messages throughout the day with updates, or questions, regarding his daughter or the schedule.

Aside from the information I’ve gathered simply by being in his house, I really don’t know him. But I want to—and therein lies the problem.

Because he’s. My. Boss.

Blowing out a shaky breath, I push my car door open and step outside, admiring the late dusk sky. The sun slopes low on the horizon, its rays hardly visible as the last remaining hues of orange and pink fade into the inky backdrop of twinkling stars.

A shiver runs through me as I look up at the house.

The season is changing—what was a comfortable warmth earlier in the day has transformed into a sharp crisp air that bites at the apples of my cheeks.

Pulling my sweater tighter around my body, I take the stairs two at a time up the porch, and rap my knuckles against the door.

Anxiously, I chew on my bottom lip as I wait for Declan to answer, feeling a little awkward.

Maybe I should have declined.

I should have texted my sister.

A few seconds later, we’re standing face-to-face, and a lopsided smirk pulls at his lips when he sees me. Pushing the door open further, he steps to the side for me to walk through. “Hey. Come on in.”

“Thanks.” My purse lands in its normal spot as I drop it to the floor once I’m inside.

“How was your test?” There’s a soft click from the deadbolt engaging, then Declan turns to face me.

My eyes sweep over him, taking him in as if this is the first time I’m seeing him. In a way, it is the first time I’m seeing him like this—off the clock. With a dish towel slung over his shoulder, he’s relaxed, wearing a gray T-shirt and dark wash jeans, with his feet bare.

The scent of garlic and rib-eyes waft in from the kitchen, and I lick my lips, although I might have done that because he looks so damn good right now.

Realizing my thoughts have run away with my libido, I try to hide the extended silence with a nonchalant shrug. “It was good, I’m pretty confident I passed.”

“That’s great.” He tugs the dish towel from his shoulder and spins it.

“Make yourself comfortable—Sail’s in her playroom if you want to say hi, but,” he pauses, choosing his words carefully, “you’re not here as her nanny, so don’t feel like you have to work.

..” His voice lowers as he trails off. When our eyes idle, my pulse jumps in the hollow of my throat at the palpable tension between us.

I smile, shoving my hands into my pockets, suddenly feeling like I need to do something with them. “Everything smells amazing. Can I do anything to help?”

“Nope. Not at all. Dinner will be ready in about twenty, I’m just finishing up the potatoes.” Declan winks. He. Freaking. Winks. And my panties incinerate. “Go take a load off.”

Who is this man?

With another hearty grin, he stalks back into the kitchen, and I fear I might fall in love by the end of the night.

Or worse. Fall into his bed.

No . I won’t let that happen.

He wouldn’t let that happen.

There’s a split second, though, where I feel a twinge of awkwardness not knowing if I should follow him and continue to make polite conversation, or head into Sailor's playroom to check on her.

As much as I want to follow after Declan, I know I need to go say hi. Even the thought of being here without acknowledging her feels wrong—so I make my way down the hall, my steps slow as I take my time and lazily walk the path I hustle down so often.

The Lane house is stunning, and honestly, I’m understating its beauty with the term house .

In my opinion, his home is what I’d call a mini mansion, and Declan has decorated it modestly, but in very good taste.

It’s no secret he has money, and while I don’t know his net worth, I do know he earns a pretty penny as a coach, and that his family comes from old money.

I read somewhere that the Bears team owner went out of pocket to supply the team with better gear this year, including big salary bumps for everyone .

Despite the Bears being under better ownership, it’s also incredibly apparent they’re in good hands with Declan as their coach too.

Already the hype around the Bridge Point Bears has skyrocketed in comparison to last year.

Prior to taking the nanny job I did a little research on my boss and learned Declan’s father owns a baseball team out in New York, and his grandfather was one of the most sought-after pitchers back in his day, and resides in the hall of fame.

The Lane family bleeds baseball.

When I turn the corner into Sailor’s playroom, the familiar sound of her favorite Barbie movie plays in the background while she tinkers with a tea set at her small table. Leaning against the doorframe, I watch her and admire how well she navigates independent play, letting her imagination thrive.

After a few more seconds, she notices me and her face beams. Returning her smile, I cross the room and sink down onto my knees in the soft, plush carpet. “Hi, sweet girl. What are we playing? Tea party?”

Her little head nods enthusiastically, her soft brown ponytail wildly spinning. “Yes! Want some tea?” She holds out the floral plastic tea kettle.

“Why, that would be amazing!” I say in my most proper voice.

Sailor clanks the spout against the teacup and pretends to pour, then thrusts the cup into my face. “Here you go!”

“Oh gosh, this looks delicious.” I bring the cup and hover it above my lips, making loud slurping sounds while pretending to drink. In true tea party fashion, my pinky is extended, too. Sailor mirrors my movements—down to the pinky, and together we drink our imaginary tea.

“This is the most delicious peppermint tea I’ve ever tasted, Sailor. Thank you.”

“It’s not peppermint. It’s chocolate,” she tells me, matter-of-factly.

“Oh? Chocolate, huh? I thought I tasted something a little bitter.”

She wrinkles her nose, and I can’t help but laugh. Reaching over I boop it with the tip of my finger.

Abruptly, she stands. “I’m hungry.”

“Your dad’s almost done cooking, I think. Should we go check on him and see if he’s doing a better job in the kitchen than we do?”

She nods and reaches for my hand, and I let her pull me, making a show of standing up, pretending like it’s her strength bringing me to my feet.

Together, we walk down the hall, crossing the bottom floor to the kitchen, where the aroma of savory scents is much, much stronger. As if on cue, there’s a telltale rumble in my belly.

“Perfect timing, ladies.” Declan moves a large pot from the stove to a hot pad on the counter, smiling at us as I help Sailor onto one of the stools at the island then take the one next to her.

“Can I do anything?”

“No, everything’s good to go. Figured we could dish up buffet style.” He tips his head toward the food set out in a line.

“Perfect. I’ll dish Sailor.” Sliding off my stool, I push hers in more. “Don’t move, I don't want you to fall.”

“What are you drinking? Beer? Soda? Sparkling water?”

“Sparkling water would be amazing, thanks.”

As I pick up two plates—one for me, one for Sailor—Declan opens the fridge, glass bottles clanging together as he pulls out our drinks. Water for me, juice box for her, and a beer for him.

When we’re settled around the informal dining table in the kitchen, I cut the tender smoked meat with my knife and it falls apart easily under the blade.

A moan floats past my lips when I taste it, unable to hold it in. It’s indescribable and I close my eyes briefly as flavor explodes on my tongue with this first bite. “Holy shi—smokes,” I catch myself. “This is amazing, Declan.”

“Thanks. There’s nothin’ like throwing it on the smoker.” His eyes light up as he watches me take another bite. “So, Hailey. I realized you’ve been helping me with Sailor for nearly three months now, and I barely know you. What do you do for fun?”

“Fun? With what time?” Snorting a laugh, I take another bite of my dinner, trying the potatoes. They’re divine, and I practically moan in delight.

Across the table, Declan’s face falls. “I know, I’m sorry my hours are so all over the place.”

“Oh, no! That’s not what I meant!” Guilt stabs me square in the chest. “I’ve been in college full-time since I graduated high school. There hasn't been much time for anything other than the college grind.”

The moment his expression changes to relief, the coil in my chest relaxes, too.