Page 51 of Hot Streak

Connor’s behavior just didn’t make sense to him. Which was why it was better to stop it, Jackson believed, no matter how awkward it made things.

Not that we got along all that well before this.

But at least the awkwardness meant he didn’t spend nearly every moment burning for the guy and trying to ignore said burning.

That was fucking something, at least.

He didn’t like the feeling of being tempted. He didn’t like the worry, lingering in the back of his mind, that maybe this might go beyond just temptation.

“Connor’s just over there,” Andy said, gesturing towards where Connor was throwing a few pitches to Ro, getting warmed up for his start tonight.

Like Jackson could miss the six-foot, four-inch guy with his bright blond hair, penetrating blue eyes, and a face that could doom any angel—and Jackson hadn’t been even close to angelic in many, many years.

“How’s he doing?” Jackson asked.

Andy shot him a look. “Aren’t you roomin’ with the guy?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you should be tellin’ me,” Andy pointed out wryly.

“We’re not close, you know that.” An understatement of the century. Especially after he’d just torched anything they had been building with his insistence that Connor stop whatever the fuck it was he was doing.

Andy shot him a look.

“Okay, we’re figuring out how to do this. You know it’s not easy, especially not with a guy like Connor. He’s . . .” Hot. Flirtatious. Tempting beyond belief. “Stubborn.”

“He sure is.”

“So, we’re getting there.” Or else we were, before today.

“Alright. I just don’t want him worked up,” Andy said. “He gets worked up, it’s way too fucking hard to get him to calm down. And breathing? Forget about it.”

“I’ll make sure he’s fine.” Except maybe he’s already not.

“Good,” Andy said with a sharp nod. “Then, get over there.”

Jackson did as he was told and was more than a little relieved that when he approached, Connor didn’t seem to be giving him any icier of a reception than he had earlier.

“Ready?” Jackson asked, and Connor nodded.

They moved to the mound, Jackson situating himself behind home plate.

Connor seemed solid, each pitch coming in with a nice zip, as they had during his last bullpen. Even better, he hit every pitch Jackson called for, even skating beautifully right along the edge of the zone.

Andy was right; when he was thinking—or not thinking—Connor absolutely had the goods.

It was just a matter of keeping him on the right track.

First inning went smooth as butter. Three batters came up, and Connor sent them down with only a handful of pitches. With his speed and placement, the hitters just looked like they were waving at his balls, and he looked every inch his reputation as a future major league pitcher.

The second and third inning went much the same. Jackson let Connor stay in his own corner of the dugout between innings, not stewing but keeping himself focused, while he congregated with the rest of the team on the other end.

In the fourth, Jackson came up to bat, in the middle of the order.

Ahead of him, Ro had hit a solid double, but then TJ had struck out, just after, on a nasty slider that had nearly sent the guy into the dust.

He’d strode right past Jackson, in a total snit about the pitch, and Jackson had idled up to the plate, hesitant but determined to do what he could to bring Ro home and score a run.

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