As he crossed the home plate, the guys cheered. Hats went skyward. They patted one another’s backs and congratulated each other as if they had just won the World Series.

The girls slowly wandered in from the field and I felt a little bad. Had I deliberately missed that catch? They didn’t seem to mind losing though. Afterall, it had been a fun way to see out the afternoon.

When I looked over at Heath, he wasn’t looking smug like I thought he would. He was staring at me, his expression thoughtful, and I could feel the magnetic pull of his gaze. Something about the way he was looking at me made my heart stutter.

When I reached him he smiled softly, his blue eyes bright in the late afternoon sun.

“Congratulations. That was a good win,” I said with good sportsmanship.

He didn’t say anything for a moment and I got the distinctive feeling he was scrutinizing me. Like he was sorting something out in his head. But then he smiled. A big smile. Like he had worked whatever it was out and it made him happy.

He curled his arm around my neck and pulled me against his chest. “Come on, Mickey Mantel. You owe me dinner.”

* * * * *

HEATH

She lost the bet on purpose. The changeup she pitched to me fucked me up and I basically handed her the win on a silver platter.

But she missed.

And there’s no way she should have missed that ball. Unless it was on purpose.

I couldn’t help but grin. She had lost the bet on purpose because she wanted to spend the night with me. Were her feelings towards me changing? The idea made my insides light up with so much fucking sunshine I didn’t know what to do with myself.

“Should we go get your stuff now or later?” I asked her as we made our way back to my house.

“Stuff?” she asked.

“Yeah. You lost the bet. Remember?”

A small smile curled on her lips. “Yeah. I remember.”

“Or are you telling me you sleep naked?”

She shot me a look.

“Because I am totally cool with it, if you do.”

She tried but she couldn’t help but smile. “Sorry to disappoint you, Heath. But no, I don’t sleep naked.”

I tried to look disappointed but the truth was, I was so excited by the idea of her sleeping over, nothing was going to bother me. She could wrap herself in a hessian sack for all I cared, just as long as I got to feel the weight of her next to me in my bed.

“So you want me to stay over tonight?” she asked.

I wanted her to stay over every night.

Wait. What?

Oh, hell. What the fuck was happening to me?

Truth was, I couldn’t wait to spend some alone time with her.

“No point waiting,” I replied. “Plus, tomorrow night we’ve got a show in town. And if we wait ’til the following night, I’m afraid you’ll work out a way to weasel out of it.”

She looked mildly offended. “I don’t weasel. A bet’s, a bet. But you’re the winner, so if you say you want me to stay tonight, then I’ll stay tonight.”

Her smile went straight to every sensitive part of my body.

“Where are you guys playing tomorrow night?” she asked.

“The DeSoto. Will you come?”

“Of course.”

Since we’d started hanging out, if she wasn’t working she had made it to every show we had played locally. It was always a buzz knowing she was in the crowd, watching me.

We had Vegas coming up in a few weeks. We’d been asked to play at the Maypole Music Festival alongside some pretty big bands. It would be our first time playing a massive crowd and I needed her there with me. I wanted her to be a part of my life. For no rhyme or reason, having her there seemed almost important as being there myself.

It was dusk when we arrived back at my house. Somehow it was decided dinner would be at Whistler, a local karaoke bar. I’m not sure how it happened, but I’m pretty sure it had something to do with that pussy, Jesse. He and Piper were a couple of karaoke nerds.

To get the eight of us there I took my Challenger and Jesse took the Charger. The bar was pretty crowded, but we were lucky to score a large table at the front, near the stage. Straightaway, Piper and Jesse were picking out songs.

“What about you Harlow, do you sing?” Piper asked, looking up from the song list.

“Not even to save myself,” Harlow replied.

“Yeah, right,” I said. “Just like you couldn’t play baseball.”

“I never said I couldn’t. You just assumed I couldn’t. And for that, you will pay.” Dark eyes gleamed wickedly through long lashes at me.

The way she looked at me. The way I felt around her. I felt a million fucking bucks. And tonight she was going to hang with me. The whole night.

“I can run fast,” I replied.

“Yes, but you have to sleep sometime …”

Piper sighed and turned to Jesse. “This is exhausting.”

“I wish they’d get their shit together.”

“Who?” I asked.

They both looked at me as if I’d just spoken Klingon.

Piper rolled her eyes and then shook her head, like I was a lost cause. Then she nudged Jesse and pointed to the song list in front of her. They smiled conspiratorially and turned their attention back to me.

“You know that was pretty mean of you to pitch my girl a fastball this afternoon, dude. Wasn’t very sportsman-like,” Jesse said.

I squinted at him. What the fuck was he talking about?

“Yeah. That was a bit rough, Heath,” Piper chimed in. “Kinda hurt my feelings.”

Harlow looked at me and I could see she was just as lost as I was.

“I’ll tell you what … let me pick a song for you to sing … then we’ll call it even,” Piper continued.

I was still confused, but agreed anyway, anything to end this weird-ass conversation. “Okaaaaay.”

Piper slid the song list across the table and pointed to a song.

She had to be kidding!

I looked up.

“And sing it like you mean it,” she said with a raise of her eyebrows.

Both her and her pussy-whipped boyfriend were looking at me smugly.

I knew what they were doing. God love them.

“Fine,” I said, standing up.

The song was a pop song. I didn’t do pop songs. It wasn’t really my thing. So they were going to get the Heath Dillinger high-powered gravel version.

It was a little known song called ‘I Want Her’ by Blind Truth. I knew it because it had been on Scary Movie 5 and I’d seen that movie a hundred times, thanks to a failed guys weekend at a snowed-in mountain chalet, with no TV channels and only a DVD and bottle of bourbon to keep us entertained. Worst fucking weekend of my life.

I accepted the microphone off a rather large-chested karaoke employee and then offered Piper and Jesse a special salute, which involved my middle finger.

At the table next to us a couple of girls were trying to get my attention. Two months ago they would have succeeded. Now I offered them nothing. No wink. No smile. Nothing. All that mattered was the girl with the long brown hair and bright green eyes, grinning up at me from our table.

As the music began she started the appreciative applause and the rest of the table joined in. There was clapping and yelping, a few whistles and catcalls. The rest of the room was quick to follow and before I knew it, they were all getting into it.

The table of girls next to us looked on enraptured. Hair was flicked. Lips licked and glossed. Eyes threw not-so-subtle offers in my direction.

But it was Harlow I was singing to.

You know, because Piper insisted. And I didn’t want to piss her off. Because Piper may be little, but she was a tornado of scary when pissed off.

“… don’t want to be a good guy, ’cos I am so in love with her …”

The showman in me came out. The one that got me up in front of thousands of people and let me sing in front of them for a few hours. The one that didn’t care that I was singing a fucking pop song.

I leapt off the small stage and worked my way around the room, my raspy voice making this pop song my bitch.