Page 20 of Hot Streak

“Two down this week,” she said, the dimple in her cheek cratering. “Don’t think I’m not keeping track.”

He was doing it, too. Marking off each home run as he hit them.

What would he do when he finally ticked off the last one and set the record?

Now that was a more challenging question.

“Appreciate that, and appreciate that you didn’t spread it around.”

“Michael knows,” she said, a little reproachfully. Like he should genuinely be proud of even getting close to the record.

“’Course he does. He’s the manager of this ball club,” Jackson said. “But I don’t need the rest of the guys to know. They’d—”

“Make a big deal out of it? The kind of big deal it is?”

He nodded.

He still felt like it was a dubious honor. But it was an honor, nonetheless, and one he’d decided he wanted.

“Well, that’s your choice. But I think they’d want to know. You got some time to think about it.”

“Thanks.”

“Enjoy your night and your afternoon off,” she said. “And don’t get into too much trouble now.”

Jackson just laughed. What kind of trouble could he possibly get into? But he walked out of the side door onto the sidewalk, and, lingering there, at the entrance to the player parking lot, was Connor.

He was leaning against the brick wall that rose up from the street, bordering the ballpark on two sides, long and lean and gorgeous in the night, his blond hair shining under the streetlamp.

Jackson wanted to walk right on by. He knew how much he had pissed Connor off this week—because it was his job, maybe, but he’d done it nonetheless. It might be a good idea to give him some space. Especially with his start tomorrow. Jackson wasn’t stupid enough to believe they wouldn’t be at each other’s throats as soon as he stepped onto the mound.

Connor would want to throw one thing, and Jackson would want him to throw something else, and every single pitch would be a battle.

He nearly walked right on by, with only a nod as an acknowledgment of the other guy, but then he caught sight of that blank look on Connor’s face again—and he knew he couldn’t just leave him here like this.

“Hey,” he said, stopping in front of Connor. “Thought you’d be headed down to the Strike Zone, with the rest of the guys.”

“Yeah, they invited me. I should go. I just . . .” Connor sighed. “Not in the mood tonight, I guess.”

“It’s such a nice night, I was gonna take a walk.” Jackson had certainly not intended to invite Connor. But the words came out before he could snatch them back. “You wanna come with?”

“With you?” Connor sounded incredulous, and Jackson supposed he couldn’t blame him. He had been riding his ass pretty hard this week. Sure, only because it turned out the only person he’d ever met who was more stubborn than him was Connor.

But still, he didn’t dislike the guy.

He frustrated the hell out of him, but that was all.

“Yeah, with me,” Jackson said. “Ro was telling me about a place down the street that sells the best ice cream in Raleigh.”

“You eat ice cream?”

Connor hadn’t agreed to come, but when Jackson started walking in that direction, he joined him.

Maybe, Jackson decided, that was easier than Connor actually acknowledging that he was coming with him.

“Of course I eat ice cream.”

“I don’t know,” Connor said dubiously, “I’ve seen the way you look, man. You don’t look like you’ve ever seen a molecule of fat in your whole goddamn life.”

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