“You are?” I can practically hear her smile.
I blow out a laugh, and for some reason, relief cascades through me. “Yeah.”
“Hailey Nicolette Shea!”
“I know. I told him I’d be fine at my place, but he insisted.”
“Well, he’s right. You could be concussed. He better monitor you throughout the night.”
“Is concussed even a word?”
“I think so. Right? You tell me, miss masters program.”
I roll my eyes even though she can’t see it. “I don’t need to be monitored all night. The whole ‘sleeping with a concussion can cause a coma’ thing is a myth.”
“Myth or not, I still think you’re better off not being alone. I’m sure his bed is big enough for two.”
“Hartley! I’m not sleeping in his bed,” I whisper-yell, looking over my shoulder to make sure Declan hasn’t come out of the kitchen.
“No, but you want to be,” she goads, her melodic laughter pushing through the speaker.
Groaning, I sink further into the couch cushions. “Shut up.”
Hartley snorts. “Where is he now?”
“Making us a snack. I hit my head before we ate dinner.”
“That sucks. Oh! Any word on opening weekend yet? Owen said their first four games are against the Bears. Does this mean you’re coming down?”
“I thought I told you I was?” My brows furrow, and I pick a strand of the blanket that’s come loose. I could have sworn I told her already. “We’re flying in Thursday morning.”
Hartley squeals in delight. “Does this mean you’ll stay with me for a couple of days?”
I wish I could.My shoulders slump. “No, technically I’ll be on the clock the whole time watching Sailor.”
“So where will you stay, then?”
“Declan booked a penthouse at one of the hotels near the stadium—I can’t remember which one. There’s two bedrooms in it, so I have my own room, with a private bathroom and a jacuzzi tub! I can’t freaking wait for that.”
“Sounds romantic. Be sure to ask for champagne service, too,” Hartley quips.
She’s killing me with the teasing, and she knows it. We’ve talked numerous times about my attraction to Declan and how I desperately want to know if this is one-sided. She told me to be bold and make the first move, but it’s easy for someone who’s in a relationship to say that.
“Champagne for one maybe. There’s nothing romantic about this trip, Hartley.” I catch a movement out of my peripheral. Declan is carrying a tray, coming in my direction. “I’m there to work, and to spend any downtime I have with my twinnie.”
“You’d better. I miss you.” Hartley sighs.
“I know. I miss you too. Hey, I gotta go, but I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Love you.”
“Love you. Make sure that boss of yours takes care of you.”
My gaze connects with said boss as he sets the tray between us and sits on the opposite side of the couch. He looks like he’s trying not to smile, and I wonder if he heard her through the phone.
“Will do,” I murmur, then end the call, and toss my phone to my side.
My mouth waters as I take in the arrangement of food Declan put together. Sliced meats and cheeses, cut strawberries and grapes. Crackers, and cubes of sourdough bread.
He clears his throat. “I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for, so I put together a little of everything.”
