“Tuesday it is. In the meantime, touching you has made my dick hard.”

She looked down at his erection. “Oh, that is a problem, isn’t it?”

“It is. Do you have a remedy for that, doctor?”

She wrapped her fingers around his cock and stroked him. “I have the cure for you.”

He rolled her over and kissed her, and any thoughts besides Tucker, his mouth and his body fled her mind.

AFTER A GRUELING LOSS TO CINCINNATI, TUCKER SAT in a private room in the hotel with several of his teammates. Since they were barred from alcohol while on road trips, he nursed an iced tea and thought about how great a beer would taste right now.

He’d pitched tonight’s game, and once again his curve had been off. He couldn’t put his finger on what was going wrong. If he couldn’t depend on his curveball, his career was in trouble. The problem wasn’t consistent, though. And that was the goddamn problem.

They’d been sailing along up by two runs through the first seven innings. Tucker had been in a groove; his pitches had looked good. Then at the top of the eighth, he’d gotten rocked for four runs, including back-to-back homers. And every single one of those hits had come off his curve.

Shit.

Garrett Scott came and sat next to him, not saying a word.

“This really needs to be a shot of tequila,” Tucker said, staring at his iced tea.

Garrett nodded. “We all need a shot tonight.”

Gavin Riley slapped Tucker on the back. “This loss isn’t entirely on you. We couldn’t come up with more runs to help you out.”

Tucker looked up at Gavin. “Two should have been enough. I had that goddamn game. Sorry, guys.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Garrett said. “Sometimes shit happens and the game gets away from you. We’ve all been there.”

Gavin nodded. “There isn’t one of us here who hasn’t blown a game either by losing their pitching mojo, or making an error, or with cold bats that can’t manufacture runs. So don’t take this loss on yourself.”

“Gavin’s right,” Garrett said. “It’s always the team who wins or loses. Not one player.”

Tucker had heard the pep talk before. He appreciated it, but it didn’t make him feel better. “I’ll try to remember that. But this would be a lot easier with tequila.”

Gavin laughed. “I’ll drink to that. Unfortunately, I’ll be drinking to that with tea.”

Losing was part of the game and Tucker knew it. The wins were enormous highs, especially in front of the home crowd. The losses? Those sucked, no matter what stadium you played at, but they were especially bad on the road, when the crowd roared every time you screwed up.

It was still hard for Tucker to deal with, even after five years in the majors. But he normally handled the losses with a shrug. This time he wasn’t handling it well, because something was wrong with his pitching and he knew it.

He was going to have to figure it out and soon.

He eventually ordered another iced tea and wandered off to the food table to grab some snacks and look out the window. He took out his phone. It was ten thirty and he knew Aubry had the late shift tonight so he couldn’t call her. But, man, he really wanted to. Hearing her voice would help somehow.

Instead, he typed out a text: Thinking about you.

His fingers hovered on the keypad. The text felt unfinished, like there was something else he wanted to add to the message.

A moment later he sent the text and shoved his phone in his pocket.

Quit overthinking everything, dumbass.

He’d been thinking a lot about her invitation to her parents’ house for dinner, about what that meant.

A guy typically didn’t get invited to a girl’s parents unless she was invested in the relationship. They’d never talked about their relationship. It had just . . .

Progressed, he supposed.

Hell if he knew. He hadn’t really had many relationships, and never one that had progressed to a meet-the-parents point. And this one? Yeah, this one had the potential to be a disaster, since he already knew her parents, especially her dad.

Somehow he didn’t think her father was going to be too damn happy that she was dating him. Or that he was dating her.

He popped some bruschetta in his mouth and pondered it some more.

“Planning world domination over here, Cassidy?”

He turned to look at Trevor Shay. “More like personal shit.”

“Oh.”

“Aubry invited me to have dinner with her parents.”

Trevor arched a brow. “Like in Clyde Ross?”