This time Pace was on the schedule to pitch. He’d had to see the team doc every single day that week to get approval, but he got it, and two hours before the start, he stood in the Heat’s luxurious clubhouse in front of his locker, looking down at the few vitamin packs he still had left. Most of the guys swore they noticed a difference in their energy and strength levels, but other than sleeping better, Pace hadn’t noticed anything. Still, for Tucker, he kept taking the stuff. He was pulling on his jersey when Henry, Ty, and Johnny joined him. He glanced over, but they said nothing, just stood there staring at him like Curly, Mo, and Larry.

Ty shoved Johnny, who shoved Henry. Who then looked at Pace. “You’ve got to kiss her, man.”

“What?”

“Holly,” Ty clarified. “You have to kiss her the same way you did in Atlanta, or we’ll lose again.”

Henry nodded.

Johnny nodded.

And Pace just stared at them. No one knew he’d kissed Holly, no one but him and Holly. And . . . Red. Dammit. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, sliding Red a long death stare across the clubhouse.

From twenty feet, Red lifted a shoulder, then ambled over. “They guessed.”

“They did not.”

“Okay, they didn’t.” Red jerked his head toward Holly, who was taking pictures of Mason and Kyle goofing off at the food table. “But the last time we won was the last time you kissed her.”

Jesus. Normally Pace had a healthy respect for the superstitions of his sport, but this one . . . This one just might kill him.

“Just do it,” Henry said. “Kiss her.”

Yeah. Hardly that easy.

“If you want,” Ty offered. “I can do it for you.”

Over his dead body. Pace looked at Holly. She’d written two more intriguing, fascinating articles without more than a mention of him, and though the writing had been insight ful and quite hard-hitting, she hadn’t exposed any big secrets or been negative on the sport in any way. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never did.

“Don’t mess this up,” Red said.

Pace tried to figure a way around this, but as he knew all too well, it was immaterial whether or not he believed that they’d lose if he didn’t kiss Holly again.

The guys believed it.

Shit.

“Here,” Henry said, offering up a Dr Pepper. “For fortification.”

“No, dude, he quit.” Ty offered his Nalgene bottle instead.

Pace downed the water in it, but his mouth was still dry.

“You ready?” Henry asked.

Wade had joined them, soaking up the conversation with interest. He slapped Pace’s back. “Go take one for the team, big guy.”