Page 10 of Pitcher Perfect (Big Shots #4)

the dead middle of her stomach. It wasn’t the kind of knot that tied itself around her intestines before she pitched a game.

Nor was it the type of low, confusing knot she’d experienced back in the roadside Dunkin’ Donuts during her first official

flirting lesson.

Right up until now, she’d been thinking almost exclusively about the latter knot. How tight it had cinched when Robbie said,

No one should ever touch you like this, unless you asked, okay? And then proceeded to hype her up over that cringey pickup line.

This guy... surprised her?

A lot of things about today were surprising her. Like how comfortable the occasional silence was between them as they drove.

How she felt ever so slightly more confident in herself as a potential romantic partner for someone since he showed up—a very

different kind of confidence than the type she’d developed as an athlete. The kind she’d pretended not to want for a really

long time, usually while sitting on her couch Friday nights wondering if she was missing out on an important part of being

young. Or if she was too uptight to relax and allow herself to be in a mood for flirting. Romance.

And as she put her Honda in park in the driveway of her parents’ giant, log-cabin-style home, nestled among the trees, the third type of knot started to harden and fossilize in her midsection—and Skylar was glad not to be alone.

When she made no move to exit the car, Robbie looked at her. “You good?”

“Yeah.”

“Really? You’ve been holding my hand for the last mile. I’m not complaining,” he rushed to add. “They might have to amputate

due to an extended loss of circulation, but at least it’s my left hand. I can probably still play hockey with some minor adjustments—”

His words sunk in gradually through the anxiousness and she let go of him abruptly. “Oh. God. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He closed that hand into a tight fist. “Are you worried about pulling this dating ruse off?”

“Of course, I am. But mainly...” She pulled in a breath, searching the windows of the house for signs of life. “My family

is a lot.”

“We’re here for a wilderness competition, Rocket. I gathered that.”

Weirdly pleased that he’d kept up, a brief smile tilted her lips, even if the tightness in her chest had started to gather

again. “I told you how this is a second marriage for my parents, right? I was so little when my mother divorced my biological

father, I don’t even remember what he was like in person. He moved back to the West Coast to be closer to family and over

the years, we sort of drifted. Our communication slowed down throughout high school and now it’s almost nonexistent, even

if he still sends birthday cards. But sometimes... I wonder if I’m more like him than Doug and Vivica. Elton.”

He didn’t say anything right away. “Keep going.”

“Well.” She slicked a hand down her ponytail. “I am competitive, just like them. You know this. But I don’t always keep up. Or I don’t feel like I gelled as easily as they did.”

“Why not?”

They weren’t even inside yet and she could see the memorabilia on the walls. Vivica even owned a set of Brown pot holders.

“Us getting into Brown was all my parents talked about for the first six years of their marriage. Elton sailed right in, no

problem. Played ball for them and graduated with honors. I... didn’t get in. I totally bumbled the interview with my admissions

counselor. Even with two alumni parents and a star athlete for a brother, I got rejected.” Skylar swallowed. “When I come

here for this competition now, sometimes I feel like I’m trying to prove I belong in the fold, despite... leaving it.”

Again, Robbie was silent for a handful of seconds. Then, “Jesus Christ, Skylar. You’re attending Boston University. That’s

not exactly clown college.”

“I know. I know it’s a great school. But it’s not Brown. You’ll see what I mean.”

“You’re a perfectionist. Obviously getting a rejection is going to sting like hell, but, hey... I’ve been rejected, too.”

“By women?”

“God, no. By hockey teams.” He unhooked his seat belt, so he could turn more of his big body in her direction. “When I was

in high school, I couldn’t break into the AAA division for three long years. My teammates and best friends moved up, but I

continued to be held back. I nearly quit at one point.” His eyes softened. “Once after a particularly brutal tryout, Grandpa

Nick took me to fly kites. All three of them caught the air at different times, even though he let them go all at once. That’s

always stuck with me, you know? We all catch the air at different times.”

It was a rare thing, Skylar being captured so thoroughly by an other person’s enthusiasm that she momentarily forgot to worry or fret about the time. What else she could be doing. There was just Robbie and his eager expression, waiting to see if his words had made an impact—

The front door of the house blew open.

Her father, Doug Page, exited with his trumpet aloft, heralding Skylar and Robbie’s arrival with a boisterous rendition of

the “Star-Spangled Banner” while Vivica, her mother, hustled out into the open behind him carrying a half watermelon full

of tinier balled melons impaled by toothpicks. They stopped at the edge of the porch, beaming down at the car in matching

red polo shirts and chinos.

“Oh my God,” Robbie said without moving his mouth. “Are they AI?”

“No, but they are about to be freakishly nice to you. Don’t buy it. They are just sizing up the competition.” Skylar smiled

and waved through the windshield, while gathering her phone and keys. “From this point forward everything—and I mean everything—you

say will be used against you. Do you understand?”

“Show no weaknesses. Ten four.”

“Right. So...” The pulse at the base of her neck beat like a hummingbird’s wings. “From here on out, we’re a couple.”

“We’re the couple.”

“Robbie.” She put a hand on his arm before he could open the passenger door, a sweeping sense of responsibility pillowing

in her stomach. “If this gets to be too weird or too much... either the competition or the pretending... I won’t hold

it against you to bail, okay?”

“Yes, you would.”

“Yes, I would.”

He reached across the front of the car and traced Skylar’s cheekbone with his thumb, his mossy eyes seeming to catalog her features one by one. “See? I know you already, don’t I?”

“Wow.” She peeked at her parents out of the corner of her eye, noting they were riveted, and nuzzled her cheek into Robbie’s

palm. “You might have missed your calling as a professional fake boyfriend.”

“Fake. Yeah.” Chuckling, he took his hand back. “Shall we?”

“Let the psychological warfare commence.”

They climbed out of the car at the same time, meeting at the front bumper where Robbie clasped her suddenly clammy hand tightly

within his larger one, squeezing it reassuringly. “Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad.” Skylar took a deep breath. “This is Robbie.”

“Robbie!” Vivica exclaimed, setting down the watermelon on a wicker coffee table and sailing down the stairs, her toned and

tanned arms outstretched. She wrapped them around Skylar and inhaled deeply, rocking her daughter, so similar in build and

coloring, side to side. And Skylar hugged Vivica back, absorbing the affection, knowing the love was genuine, but also so

unsure how to nurture it. “It is such a pleasure to meet you,” Vivica said, breaking the embrace with Skylar to grasp Robbie’s

hand. “Welcome to our home—and the ninth annual Page Stakes!”

“Thanks for having me—”

“We should have known our little Skylar wouldn’t take last year’s loss to Team Foul Balls lying down,” boomed Doug, chest

puffed. “She went and joined forces with a professional athlete, did she? Fight fire with fire! She got that from me.”

“Sadly, none of our competitions involve skates and a stick,” her mother said with a sweetly sympathetic smile. “Do you have

any useful outdoor skills?”

“Here we go,” Skylar muttered, poised to defend him, like a good fake girlfriend.

“Oh, I do.” Robbie sniffed. “But I’m not telling you what they are.”

Her parents traded an impressed look. “We’ve got a live one, honey.”

Doug rubbed his hands together. “Ooh-wee. This is going to be interesting.”

“That’s one way to describe her canoodling with the dude who gave me a sore nose and a black eye,” called Elton, appearing

in the side yard. Madden sauntered closer in Elton’s wake, that characteristic broodiness thickening his energy. He seemed

to be looking through the assembled group, searching for something that he didn’t find, but then again, that’s how he always

looked—and Skylar loved how he looked. Sturdy and patient and somber and eternal. That was Madden.

“Looks like it’s healing nicely,” Robbie commented as Skylar’s brother drew even with the group, Madden arriving seconds later,

but hanging toward the back, quiet as ever.

Feeling Robbie’s gaze on her profile, Skylar realized she was staring at her longtime crush and shook herself. “First of all,

Elton, the word ‘canoodling’ isn’t for you. Drop it from your vocabulary. Second, please enlighten Mom and Dad as to who threw

the first punch.”

Elton waved off the request. “Irrelevant.”

“Spoiler alert. It was Elton,” Skylar stage-whispered to her parents.

“Only because he was harassing my sister.” Robbie’s hand flinched inside of hers at the reminder of the morning they met.

For some silly reason, she decided to give him a reassuring squeeze this time.

After all, wasn’t he here to make up for his behavior that day?

“What is he doing here?” Elton burst out, as if an explanation was long overdue.

“Bad enough you kissed him right in front of me, Sky. I’ve actually considered bleaching my eyeballs, by the way—”

“Don’t do it,” Robbie rasped. “Trust me.”

Elton scowled. “Now you’re what? Official? ”

“That’s right,” Robbie responded, his gaze level.

“And your first official date is observing the Page Stakes?”

“He’s not observing.” Skylar lifted her chin. “He’s my teammate.”

Madden’s head jerked up, his blue eyes concerned. “What about Eve?”

“Eve has to work through spring break.” No help for it. Skylar’s tone turned to velvet when addressing Madden. “She can’t

make it this year.”

Her brother’s best friend didn’t like hearing that at all. Of course he didn’t. He was compassionate and thoughtful. He wouldn’t

want Eve missing their one chance for the four childhood friends to be together every year, right? “I’ll go see her,” Madden

said, breaking from the group. “Maybe I can cover some shifts.”

“Don’t even think about it, man. We’re defending champs,” Elton called after Madden. “Get your head in the game.”

“Gosh. Have you always been this empathetic, Elt?” Skylar mused.

Robbie chuckled at her sarcasm.

Everyone looked sharply at Robbie.

Down at Skylar’s and Robbie’s connected hands.

Then at one another.

“Isn’t there a rule stating that any changes to the teams have to be reported in advance?” Elton asked. “A few hours before

the opening ceremony doesn’t count.”

Vivica inclined her head. “The change was reported beforehand. Your sister emailed me days ago.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Elton was appalled.

“And lose the element of surprise?” Doug scoffed. “We need to take every available advantage.” He rubbed at his lower back

with the hand not holding the trumpet. “We no longer have youth on our side, you know.”

Skylar and Elton traded a smirk.

“Uh-uh. You’re not going to play that old and feeble card, so we underestimate you. It didn’t work last year and it won’t

work now.” Elton exhaled up at the sky. “So the hockey player is around for the whole week, huh?”

“Afraid so.” Robbie tugged Skylar into his side. “Longer if I’m lucky.”

“Gross.” Her brother gave Robbie a disgusted once-over. “Don’t think we won’t be having the ‘hurt my sister and die’ talk.”

“Looking forward to it,” Robbie said without so much as a blink.

Elton rubbed the corner of his eye with a knuckle while muttering under his breath something about getting himself into this mess , before wearily stalking up the porch steps into the house. “Thank God Sky’s bedroom is the farthest one from mine.”

When her parents and Madden turned and followed him, Robbie leaned over to whisper in her ear. “We’re going to be in one bedroom?

Singular?”

Skylar studied his face for signs of early regrets but saw only pure, unadulterated hope. Like he was actually holding his breath for confirmation they’d be staying in the same room. This man was a grade A horndog, through and through. “You seem even less

bothered by sharing a bed than you were about the blow job workshop.”

“Facts.”

“We’re sticking to the schedule.”

“I’ll stick it to whatever you want.”

A laugh snuck out, so she shoved him for the sake of balance. “ Robbie. ”

He allowed himself to stumble back, never losing his grin. “Yeah?”

Skylar shook her head at him, then said, “As far as introductions go with my crazy family, that one was pretty decent.”

A combination of relief and pleasure moved across his features. “We got this in the bag, Rocket.”

“Don’t get cocky yet, Redbeard,” she said, ascending backward up the steps. “There will be curveballs.”

There was something she couldn’t quite read about his tone when he said, “I’m ready.”