Page 8 of Stealing Forever (Bridge Point Bears Baseball #1)

By the time I hear Declan’s keys clinking together as he unlocks his front door, I’m curled up on his couch under a blanket, with a bowl of popcorn in my lap and one of my favorite movies playing.

It’s another late Friday night spent at the Lane house, but honestly, I don’t mind. I knew exactly what I was getting into when I took the job, and I’d rather be here than in my outdated condo alone. Their house has become familiar to me in a way I never imagined it would.

My fingers know exactly where each and every light switch is without thought.

My belongings, such as my purse, and my shoes, have designated spots.

I find myself positioning my shoes next to Declan’s in the entryway.

It’s both terrifying and comforting to say their house has become my home away from home.

Now, Sailor’s fast asleep, and I went into a bit of a cleaning frenzy earlier, after turning in the last of my weekly coursework and discussions.

“Hey,” Declan greets when he makes it inside, quietly shutting the door behind him. The glow from the paused movie illuminates his features as he gives it a glance, no doubt trying to see what I’m watching.

A shiver runs through me from the timbre of his voice, and I’m captivated for a moment before I remind myself to speak, not just stare. “Hey. How was your day?”

Without turning the lights on, he drops his bag, and in a few strides, sinks onto the plush cushion beside me. He stretches his legs out in front of him, and wastes no time scooping up a handful of popcorn. The move feels so intimate, like we’re a couple who’s been together for years.

“Long. Sailor good today?” he asks before popping some of the salty snack into his mouth.

Pinching the soft fleece of the blanket, I roll it around between my fingers, avoiding Declan’s gaze. “She’s always good.”

The way my heart is beating, I fear it might actually explode. I don’t need to look up to feel his eyes on me. And I don’t need his hands on me to remember the searing heat of his touch.

It’s borderline pathetic how much I’ve thought about him since that encounter in the kitchen a couple days ago.

But I can’t help it. I want to feel him again. I want more of his hands on me, caressing my skin in a way that makes me tremble. I want to feel him everywhere .

With Declan's eyes trained on me, his voice vibrates with intensity when he says, “Because she loves you.”

My skin pebbles with goosebumps. There’s something in his tone that makes me wonder if… No, maybe I just want there to be.

“I’m very lucky my landlord connected us. I love watching Sailor.”

And I mean that with my entire heart. That little girl has me wrapped around her finger.

With the same deep timbre that drew me and sent a shiver through me a second ago, Declan says, “You both deserve the world.”

Butterflies explode in my stomach. I’m at a loss for words that I’m willing to speak aloud. My eyes drop to his lips and I find myself wanting to toss the popcorn bowl to the ground and crawl into his lap. I can’t help but wonder if he’d let me.

It’s hard to know.

Declan glances at the TV again, pulling me from my errant thoughts. “I’m going to go shower. Feel free to hang out until your movie’s done.”

With a simple sentence it feels like he just took a Sharpie to reinforce that hypothetical line.

Time for me to leave. “Oh that’s okay!” I say as nonchalantly as possible, trying to keep my emotions out of my already shaky voice. Declan pushes to his feet, and I move the popcorn bowl while unfolding my legs from the pretzel they’re in. “I just started it. No big deal.”

My heart beats erratically with the need to flee even though he literally just told me to stay because if he wanted me here, wouldn’t he stay and watch it with me?

As I lift my blanket, Declan puts his hand over mine, stopping it midway. His touch freezes me, and the look in his deep brown eyes is gentle as he says, “Stay. Watch your movie. I’ll be right back.”

A light squeeze on my hand has me sucking in a sharp breath before he releases it and reaches for the remote. With the click of a button, he brings the movie back to life and tosses it onto the spot he occupied on the couch.

Then, without another look in my direction, he heads toward the stairs.

The air whooshes out of me the moment he’s out of view. Trembling, I try to focus on the actors on the screen, but for the next twenty minutes the only thing I can think of is the man upstairs, naked in the shower.

His words.

Those looks he gives.

His touch.

It feels like something is shifting between us, and I’m more confused than ever. Surely, this is all in my head. I’ve seen a picture of Sailor's mom. I’m nothing like her.

We’re opposites in every way.

The next several minutes are spent gaslighting myself and overthinking every word the man has ever spoken to me. When Declan returns, I couldn’t tell you what’s happening in the movie I’ve seen so many times prior.

The scent of his body wash envelops me—cedarwood mixed with a light citrus and bergamot—and when he sits, it’s closer than he was before. The cushion-length gap between us is gone, and we’re side by side. Immediately, heat rushes to my core.

“So, what movie is this?” Declan asks, casually draping his arm over the back of the couch, his hand parallel with where my head would rest if I laid it back.

“ Crazy Stupid Love .” I’m hyper aware of his proximity—I can practically feel his skin.

“Never seen it.”

Clearing my throat, I shift in my seat a little, which does nothing to help the situation—now my knee is touching his leg.

My pulse quickens, that simple touch electrifying through my body.

“It’s cute. It’s about a guy whose wife blindsides him by asking for a divorce, then a guy he meets at a bar decides to help him try to be more attractive to women, but he’s a womanizer and ends up dating the other guy's daughter. I’m not explaining it well. ”

“Sounds like a chick flick.” Declan gives me a coy smile.

“Kind of. Romantic comedy for sure.”

“Cool.”

Cool? How do I keep this conversation going?

“Cool.” I nod like a dumbass.

And now the conversation’s killed.

A silence settles over us and eventually, my nerves calm and I find myself getting cozier on the couch. Declan laughs at all my favorite parts, and I sneak glances at him whenever I’m positive he’s not paying attention.

Eventually though, I fall asleep. When I wake, the glow from the TV is gone, and the room is eclipsed with inky darkness from the wee hours of the night. Using the flashlight on my phone, I try to regain my bearings and notice Declan asleep on the couch next to me.

He looks serene with his hair draped over his forehead, his arms folded over his chest as he quietly sleeps.

Slipping off the couch, I tiptoe across the room and slip my feet into my sandals, while picking up my purse at the same time, not making a sound as I do.

“You don’t have to leave.” Declan’s voice is gruff, thick with sleep as he sits up and yawns. “Guest room’s all yours if you want.”

God, how I want to say yes to that. But I know I shouldn’t.

“Thanks, but I don’t have anything with me for tomorrow. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“You sure?” He’s groggy as he crosses the room to meet me at the door. “This is a shit time to be out. The bars just closed and the drunk drivers?—”

“I’ll be okay, I promise.” I have to go home.

I can’t explain why—no, actually I can. It’s because of the way he’s looking at me that I say no.

Like he’s worried—like he wants me here.

My heart can’t take it, and I’m about to kiss him.

I can’t let that happen. Taking a step back to create some distance between us, my hand grips the doorknob behind me. “Goodnight, Declan.”

Licking my lips, I take another step back but don’t miss the way his eyes drop for a brief second before they connect with my face again.

His throat bobs. “Goodnight, Hailey.”

Stepping out into the crisp, darkened night, I hurry to my car and don’t bother letting it warm up before I put it into drive. The entire way home, my thoughts are consumed with one thing only.

Him .