Home run. Too bad no one else was on base because he’d rocketed that pitch into the bleachers. Haven swore she could see the grin on Trevor’s face all the way up in the club suites where she was sitting. She cheered along with everyone else, and hoped her camera crew had gotten a decent shot of that home run. She texted down to Andy, her head camera guy, who texted her back that he’d definitely gotten the shot.

Awesome.

Unfortunately, Trevor’s solo home run didn’t help the Rivers, who ended up losing the game. They’d come back and scored three more runs in the sixth, but Los Angeles had scored two in the eighth, closing the door on the Rivers’ attempt to win it, and since Atlanta had won their game tonight, it was looking more and more like the Rivers were not going to make it to the postseason.

But it wasn’t over yet, and anything could happen.

She was disappointed for Trevor and for the team, but she still had her job to do.

She met with her camera crew after the game, and they submitted their work to the network in time for the broadcast that night. The crew was finished with the work they’d do for now, and they’d meet up again once Trevor started up in Tampa.

After the game, Trevor was quiet. She stepped up next to him as he walked to the car.

“Tough loss,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“Great home run, though.”

“Thanks. Didn’t help the team, though.”

She wanted to console him, to put her arm around him and make him feel better, like he’d done for her last night. Her fingers itched to touch him.

Why couldn’t she bridge that gap of inches and just lean into him to offer him comfort? What would it cost her to do that?

Nothing.

So why couldn’t she make the move? What held her back? Did she think if she touched him, he’d read something into it and want more? More than she was willing to give?

In the end, she couldn’t do it, just walked to the car and climbed into her seat, keeping her distance, which felt all kinds of shitty.

“There’s still hope for the team, Trevor,” she said as they drove back to his house.

“Yeah, there is. Until the last game. Unfortunately, we have a road trip to Atlanta up next, and if we lose even one game to them, we’re out of the postseason.”

“When does the road series against Atlanta start?”

“Friday.”

“Then you’ll have to kick ass against Los Angeles and make these games count.”

“We’ll do that. Believe me, we will.”

She did believe him. She was impressed by how fast he shook off the loss, because they went out to eat, and he was his happy, animated self again, signing autographs for fans and joking with the waiter. After dinner, they went back to his house, where she was once again faced with being alone with him.

Maybe it was time she moved into a hotel, to give herself some distance. Instead, when they got inside, she turned to him.

“I have a lot of editing to do. If you don’t mind, I’m going to close myself up in the office and work.”

“That’s fine. I’m going to go watch TV.”

He seemed okay with her decision, which relieved her. “Great.”

She grabbed her laptop and notes and headed into the office, closing the door behind her. She dove into work, going over her notes, uploading the photos she’d taken, and after several hours, she had made serious progress. She sent the file off to her producer.

She got up and stretched, gathered up her laptop and notes, and turned off the light in the office. She was about to head to bed, but decided to stop in the kitchen for a glass of water first.

It was late, so she didn’t expect to find Trevor in there, fixing himself a sandwich.

“Oh. Hey. You’re still up?”

He smiled at her. “Yeah. I was watching a movie and I got hungry after.” He pointed to the sandwich on his plate. “Want one?”

“No, thanks. I was just going to grab a glass of water before I headed to bed.”

“I’ll get that for you.” He dropped ice into a glass and filled it with water, then handed it to her.

“Thanks. Good night, Trevor.” She turned.

“Haven?”

She stopped, her eyes closing for a fraction of a second before turning back to face him. “Yes?”

“What’s wrong? Did I do something to upset you?”

Laying her stuff down on the counter, along with the glass, she went over to him, knowing she shouldn’t get so close, but unable to help herself. She laid her hand on his forearm, feeling the instant connection, that sizzle of chemistry she couldn’t deny, no matter how much she wanted to. “No. Not at all. I’m just . . . tired tonight. It’s been a long day, and I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I just want to go to bed and crash.”