Page 50 of Hot Streak

Jackson glanced over at him. “No?”

“No,” Connor said. The elevator dinged and they walked inside.

“Then stop being naive,” Jackson said, but he was clearly trying to hold back a smile. Connor didn’t think he’d ever spent so much time looking at someone else’s lips. Jackson’s were deep pink and surprisingly curvy for a man’s. What would they feel like on Connor’s own? Or on other parts of Connor’s body?

Connor felt himself flush hot.

“Maybe you could help me out with that,” Connor said, trying for the same flirty tone that worked so well with girls.

The elevator dinged open and Jackson only shot him a mostly incredulous look before exiting and heading at a solid clip down the hallway towards the room.

But before he stuck the key card in the lock, Jackson turned abruptly. So abruptly Connor nearly ran into him.

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” he said bluntly, “but it’s weird. Stop.”

“I . . .uh . . .” Connor stammered.

“Is it some kind of test? They want to know if I’ll lose control? Well, I won’t. You can stop trying right now.”

“It’s not anything,” Connor insisted. “I’m just trying . . .” To flirt with you. To hit on you.

“Just stop then,” Jackson said with finality and stuck the key card in its slot and opened the door.

It occurred to Connor as he sat down on the edge of the bed, hearing the shower turn on in the bathroom, that Jackson actually believed he was fucking with him. And not really fucking with him but having him on. Flirting with him even if he was straight. Trying to torment him.

It didn’t occur to him, it wasn’t even on his freaking radar, that Connor might be feeling the same way he did.

Didn’t that say it all?

He didn’t need to text Tristan to ask him what he needed to do, because he already knew. He wasn’t going to be able to get by with the same kind of flirting he did with girls; he was going to have to be a hell of a lot more direct.

He was going to have to find the courage to tell Jackson the whole truth.

Chapter 8

“Feels like we’ve already been on the road forever,” TJ complained as they headed into the dugout from the clubhouse to get ready for the fourth game in this series.

The game Connor was starting.

“Yep.” They’d dropped two out of three on this road trip so far. None of the losses had been bad, the Rogues only losing by a run here, two runs there. But it had been enough.

Baseball was a game of inches and a game of hundreds of feet.

Jackson turned, looking for Connor so they could finish getting warmed up.

They hadn’t talked much since Jackson had warned him.

Connor had seemed scared straight—wrong choice of words, Evans, he told himself—after Jackson had confronted him over his behavior.

He’d tried to act normal after he’d hopped out of the shower. Connor hadn’t spoken much either, turning on the TV like he didn’t want to talk, and then a few hours later, they’d headed to the ballpark for the night’s game. Connor had gone to the bullpen, and Jackson had taken his spot on the bench.

The next day had been about the same. Minimum amount of conversation, which Jackson was used to, because some teammates just never warmed to him, and yet it wasn’t as bad as the icing out Connor had given him a week ago.

It was exactly what Jackson had wanted, so it shouldn’t have bothered him.

He’d wanted to cut through all that bullshit faux-flirting. But why had Connor been doing it in the first place? Had he believed it was a way to soften Jackson up, make him vulnerable, make him weak? Convince him to take it easier on Connor? Because there was no fucking chance of that. No matter how gorgeous Connor was. No matter how he fluttered his eyelashes and batted those unreal blue eyes in his direction.

And, no matter what he’d told Connor, he didn’t really think it was a test either. Deke was proof of that. Mikey had even asked for Jackson specifically, and he knew the truth of his sexuality. So why bring him here if they didn’t want him around? If they didn’t trust him?

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