Chapter 23

When I walk into the lobby of the hotel where the Rays are staying the night before their game against Seattle, I know I'm breaking all the rules. Court has complained numerous times about not being able to see Eli in the evenings the nights before games, and how even now that they're married, she can't stay with him. She's the starting quarterback's wife.

I'm barely Lincoln's friend.

Okay, that's a touch dramatic. We're friends. We've been on a friend date, and we have another friend date in a couple of days.

You know what else is dramatic? I think I'm here because I'm staking a claim.

Which makes no sense. I've made it clear to Lincoln that I can only be friends right now. He's made it pretty clear to me that we are friends. He's offered to help watch my daughter, and he's supportive and excited about me going back to acting. But the way Astrid was kind of flirting with him today did something in my brain.

So what, I'm here to make sure he knows what good friends we are?

I stand in front of the elevators and mentally face-palm. I like him. So part of me must be hoping that he'll see this as … something more than it is on the outside. Me delivering healthy treats to him.

So if he does see something more here—if there is something more here … then what? I'm going to ignore all the rules I've made for myself about love and just go for it?

Yes?

NO!

Uuuuuugh.

I almost walk right back out the door, but there are a couple players in the hotel bar area, which has one full side open to the lobby, and they watched me walk in with my bakery box. I look like I'm delivering something—that's a good thing—but it means I have to stick with the act so I don't get someone in trouble.

There're more people staying here than the football team, and I could be here to see any of them, right? Except that story's going to blow up the second I set foot on the tenth floor, which is rented out for the team. (That, as well as the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth.)

There's also the fact that all my friends know what I'm up to. Mila was giddy when I asked her for advice on a healthy treat to make Lincoln, and Eli's the one who gave me Lincoln's room number to make this whole thing possible. That means Landon knows, so probably Court and Miss Sophie too.

I step onto the elevator and do another mental facepalm. This started out so innocently. I felt bad that for the foreseeable future, Lincoln has to take all his bakery treats to Dillon first before risking eating them. Mila is campaigning that he doesn't eat them even if Dillon gives the okay on top of that. Plus, I know he wouldn't be filling himself full of sugar right before a game anyway.

Hence the protein bites. Mila told me that they're Eli's favorite, especially before games. They taste like peanut butter cookie dough, but they're stuffed with protein, made with zero refined sugar, and full of things that Mila tells me are the perfect fuel for a strapping football player like Lincoln.

I added the strapping part.

I swallow when the elevator reaches the tenth floor, then peer around the doors, making sure there are no guys loitering in the hallway. It's empty, which is a relief, but again, I look like a delivery person. I'm an actress. I'll just own that, even if I don't know if ordering DoorDash is against the rules or not for these guys.

I take a deep breath and stride down the hallway to room 1048. Eli says that Lincoln always tries to stay in a room with 48 at the end if one is available, since that's his number and he considers it lucky. I tap on the door lightly and hear shuffling around in the room.

Lincoln swings open the door. "What's up, El—" He gapes and blinks at me. "Layla?"

I wish something would come out of my mouth, but I'm momentarily stunned. Lincoln has answered the door in a pair of navy-blue sweats with the Rays logo on one leg and his number underneath that. He is also shirtless.

Which is why I quickly move my gaze up to his face to find that he's wearing a pair of trendy, black-rimmed glasses and has a baseball hat on backwards. I think this might be some kind of hot-guy trifecta, and I'm not sure how to react at all.

So I say something very smooth like, "You wear glasses?"

He snatches them off his face and swallows. "Uh, they're blue-light glasses. I've been on my tablet, going over plays and such, and I get a headache if I don't wear them, which isn't great, considering I have a game tomorrow. What are you doing here? Actually, hurry, come in."

He grabs my arm after this run-on speech that reminds me of Astrid and gently pulls me inside, glancing around the hallway like I did before, and then shutting the door. Then he snags the oversized hoodie he was wearing earlier today from a nearby chair and pulls it over his head (which is a shame), knocking his hat askew in a kind of adorable way.

"Hey," he says.

The hoodie doesn't hide the fact that Lincoln is broad-shouldered or that I can still picture his excellent shirtless state. I focus on his face again, not that it's much better. Lincoln is just a good-looking guy all around.

"I brought you a treat." I hold out the bakery box that I put the protein bites in. "Well, it's healthy," I say when his eyebrows rise a little bit. "Mila helped me. She says they're Eli's favorite pre-game snack, and the bonus is that while these taste like a cheat, they're not. And also, Dillon doesn't have to check them because I made them in my own kitchen, which has zero arsenic. Not even for rat poisoning." Now who sounds like Astrid?

"Rat poisoning?" he repeats.

I shrug, but my face is on fire. "I've heard that's what it's for. Not just making people sick."

A laugh bursts out of him, and he reaches for the box. "Thanks, Layla." The thing is, his grin just makes the heat in my face hotter and also spread through my entire body. There's no doubt I'm attracted to this man. Even if we are just friends.

That feels like an argument I might be losing.

Once he's taken the box, he sets it on the desk near the door and opens it, taking out one of the bites and taking a bite out of it. "Eli has shared with me a time or two. They're the best." He reaches over and pulls me into a hug. "Thanks, Layla," he says into the top of my head. "That was really nice to think of me."

I lean back to look up at him. My heart beats rapidly, and it feels like I can't take a deep breath. "I know you don't eat the stuff you buy from Mila?—"

"I do sometimes!" he protests, which makes me chuckle and kind of settles the weird nerves bouncing through me.

"But I felt bad that everything has to go through Dillon for a little while. But I knew you shouldn't be eating a sugar cookie the night before a game either."

He lets me go and steps back, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweats. His baseball cap is still a little sideways, and I go a little breathless. One of those daydreams starts to creep in. I picture him with the bill of the cap facing the front instead, and he's moving toward me, then leaning over me, swiping it off to the side as his face comes toward mine.

"Layla?"

His voice shakes me out of it. "Um, what?"

He's grimacing, and I wonder how obvious I was about what I was thinking about. Was I staring at his lips? I only just resist from actually slapping my palm against my face, like maybe I can somehow get a hold of myself.

"Eli is coming over here in a second. It's probably best if he doesn't catch you, although kicking you out is the last thing I want to do. Seriously." His grimace turns into something a little bit … smoldering? But he blinks and it's gone a second later, leaving me no more time to interpret his expression.

"Um, Eli knows I'm here," I say, forcing a laugh and backing toward the door. "He gave me the room number, but I never meant to stay long anyway. Just wanted to drop those off and wish you luck and all that, you know?" My back hits the door, and I reach behind me for the door handle.

Lincoln chuckles, and I think I hear him murmur, "Of course."

It makes sense. No one was subtle about how pleased they were that I was sneaking the protein bites to Lincoln. And some of the get-togethers recently have been obvious attempts to match us up, although no one has been pushy. Landon and Mila have made it clear that they think Lincoln is perfect for me. It's kind of embarrassing that it's noticeable enough that Lincoln is catching on too.

"Thanks again," he says as I open the door. "These are great."

"No arsenic. I promise," I try to joke. My giggle comes out sounding stupid.

Lincoln holds the door for me, leaning into the frame as I step into the hall. I think we've reached brain-implosion point. Has he ever been voted People's Sexiest Man? Because it seems stupid to think that anyone else even competes with him.

"Good luck tomorrow," I say in a quiet voice. Then I wave and get myself the heck out of there. I even dart into the stairwell since it's closer than the elevators and I won't have to wait. When I hear Lincoln's door swing closed, I lean against the wall and gulp in a long breath.

It's time to be honest with myself. It's not just a crush. I don't just think he's gorgeous. I'm not just some fangirl like thousands of women in LA who follow the Rays because half the team could work as models.

Despite all my hard work to focus on my daughter and the life I need to build for us, I think I've accidentally fallen for Lincoln Knight.