Page 11 of Pitcher Perfect (Big Shots #4)

Walking into Skylar’s childhood bedroom was like stepping into a time capsule.

Replace the baseball posters with hockey and it could have been his room—if it wasn’t for the subtle feminine touches, like the lamp on her bedside table with a shade made of feathers. The

light teal pintuck comforter. A vanity in the corner with a little stool in front of it, adjacent to a shoe rack filled with

muddy cleats in various sizes.

She must have noticed Robbie’s eye drawn to the cleats, because she sighed. “It’s so weird, I know. I can never throw them

out, even when they’re falling apart.”

“No, I’m the same with skates.”

“Are you?”

“Sure. Hard to toss something that was with you through a whole season of wins and losses. They hold all the sweat and blood.

They’re yours.”

Skylar slid him a surprised look. “Exactly.”

He’d never dated a fellow athlete before. If he recalled correctly, one of his high school girlfriends had been on the soccer

team, but high school soccer was a far cry from the heights Skylar had reached. That took a lot of drive and ambition. Qualities

he was extra familiar with. Now, as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Skylar, relating to her, Robbie tried to remember what

he usually spoke about to women. Surely, they talked about something other than the logistics of where the bone down would be taking place. Right?

It was possible that he’d simply never tried to get to know anyone as well as he wanted to know Skylar.

“What’s your pregame ritual?” he asked now.

“Whoa. Personal.”

“We’re going to be sharing a bedroom for a week. Might as well start getting personal now.”

She squinted an eye. “Should we lay some ground rules for that, by the way? I mean, we’re not actually together.”

Out of nowhere, there was a rock stuck in his windpipe.

“I know you’re going to be passing on some tips and tricks,” she continued. “But we’re here for a purpose.”

Robbie did his best to maintain his affable expression, even though his lungs felt deprived of oxygen. “I don’t exactly need

a reminder after you nearly fainted at the sight of ol’ Madden in the front yard. Should I be carrying smelling salts on me

at all times?”

“Am I that obvious?” Skylar winced.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. Stop now before you start to sound jealous.

Was he jealous?

Come on, guy. You’ve been jealous since the coffee shop.

The sick feeling in his belly worsened now, minute to minute. “If you want ground rules, lay them. Otherwise, we’ll stick

to your calendar. You tell me what is a yes or a no.” He looked her in the eye. “I know how to listen, Skylar.”

They maintained eye contact for several seconds, him impressing on her that she was safe and in control, her searching him with surprise for the second time since they’d walked into the room.

“My pregame ritual is listening—in my AirPods—to Whitney Houston sing the national anthem at the Super Bowl in 1991,” she blurted, seeming a little shocked that she’d admitted it out loud, but also excited to share. “Have you seen it?”

“I... don’t know.”

“You would know,” she said, full of passion.

“Then I haven’t.”

“Try it someday, before a game. It’s the best live performance by anyone. Ever. It makes me want to go out and pitch the innings

of my life. It makes me want...”

“Immortality.”

“Yeah.” Skylar breathed a laugh that left a smile on her face and it hit Robbie, right in that moment, that there was definitely

no one more beautiful than her in the fucking world. “Yeah, it sounds weird, but I want to leave something like that behind.”

“I throw up before every game,” he said, distracted enough by her sparkling eyes to ruin the moment. Or he might have ruined

it if Skylar was someone else. But she wasn’t. She was a person who’d pushed their body to limits it couldn’t handle and...

visibly understood.

Damn. I have to find me a woman who doesn’t get grossed out by throwing up.

You did.

She’s right here.

And she’s in love with someone else.

“Wow. Interesting choice to bring up pregame rituals when that is yours.”

“I should have lied and said I listen to Lil’ Wayne,” he managed on a chuckle, feeling more than a little winded.

“Why didn’t you lie?”

Mildly insulted, he drew back. “I wouldn’t tell you I know how to listen to yes and no, then lie to you in the same breath.”

Skylar scrutinized him from a distance that had definitely grown smaller since they walked into the room. Who had moved closer? And when? “Maybe it’s premature to say this, but I’m not sure anymore that... you’re exactly who I thought you were.”

It wasn’t easy, but Robbie managed not to show on his face how relieved he was to hear that. How... honored. “Thank God

for that.”

Skylar seemed to realize their bodies were about to brush and stepped back, quipping, “To be fair, you’ve still got a long way to go.”

Robbie scrubbed at his beard. “Oh, yeah. Obviously.”

“Was that flirting just now?” she asked, after a beat, clearly thrown that their proximity hadn’t registered earlier. He’d

been close enough to kiss her.

God, I’d die to kiss her.

“If so, you’re getting better at it,” Robbie said. “I couldn’t even tell you were trying.”

“I wasn’t,” she said, mostly to herself, her brows drawing together. “Trying, that is.”

Maybe... she didn’t have to try.

Maybe she was a little bit attracted to him?

Normally, women being attracted to Robbie was a given, but not with Skylar. This new possibility that the chemical reaction

he experienced in her presence might go both ways was the best news he’d received since getting drafted by the Bearcats.

It was also dangerous.

Robbie was already falling for Skylar. The only thing keeping him realistic and grounded about his chances was the fact that

she loved someone else. But if he had attraction on his side? Hope opened doors. Hope made him feel like he had a shot.

And he didn’t. So he needed to keep his eyes wide open.

“I’ll go get the bags out of the car,” he managed on his way into the hallway. “You want your planner?”

That threw her. She opened her mouth, closed it. “Yes, please.”

He turned and went before he could reach too much into the silent appreciation arranging her features.

The opening ceremony was a cookout in the backyard, thankfully. Robbie had been entertaining visions of blood sacrifices and

the summoning of ancient deities, so the sizzle of burgers on the grill was a welcome sound, instead of his own tormented

screams.

In attendance were the usual suspects from the earlier front yard introductions, henceforth known as the following:

Team Silver Hair = Doug and Vivica (another obvious ploy to dupe everyone into counting them out because of their age; not

happening).

Team Foul Balls = Madden and Elton (a joke they’d obviously come up with as teenagers; it hadn’t aged well).

Team Skeeve = Skylar and Eve (a combination of their names that they clearly hadn’t chosen, but it had stuck nonetheless).

The six of them stood around the firepit in the backyard, sizing one another up, quietly conferring with their counterparts

and sipping straight water. No one was consuming a drop of alcohol, which would have made the gathering a shoo-in for the

most boring cookout of all time, except it wasn’t. Not at all.

For one, Skylar was there.

And two, this was Robbie’s chance to properly get a read on Madden.

Did the big, quiet dude with the Irish brogue like her back? Was he into Skylar and merely prevented from pursuing her due

to his best-friend status with Elton? If so, he was a lot more noble than Robbie, because Robbie would have gone for her anyway,

damn the consequences.

Problem was, Madden wasn’t an easy read.

His expression rarely shifted from silent observation.

He definitely looked at Skylar every once in a while, that attention lingering long enough for tension to build in Robbie’s neck, but beyond an open flicker of curiosity from the guy now and again, Robbie couldn’t glean much else.

Now was a good time to remind himself he was supposed to want Madden to notice Skylar. As more than a kid sister. As the beautiful woman she was. That was the goal. That’s why he’d volunteered

to be there this week. He’d come to Cumberland to help Skylar land this man. He needed to focus on making that happen instead

of wondering about the what-ifs; for example, what if Madden wasn’t interested?

Would she... could she... turn her attention to Robbie?

Better squash that hope now before it grows teeth.

A flame licked out of the firepit in Skylar’s direction and Robbie moved without thinking, hooking an arm around the small

of her back and walking them backward and out of the literal line of fire. “Careful,” he said, looking down into her startled

face.

“Thanks,” she said, wetting her lips. Her attention drifted over his shoulder to the others. “Maybe you should let me go now.

Everyone is staring.”

“Maybe that’s exactly why I shouldn’t.”

“Ohhh. Okay, good point.” Damn, she was the perfect height. Tall enough that he wouldn’t have to bend his knees to kiss her.

Short enough that she had to tip her face up to make eye contact, the sunset bathing her smooth cheeks, picking up hints of

gold hidden in the depths of her brown eyes. “Time for another round of flirting practice?”

Robbie waggled his brows. “Thought you’d never ask.”

She started to relax more and more in his loose hold, her fingers even lifting to toy with the buttons of the white polo shirt

he’d thrown on. “Look at me go. I’m touching, like you taught me.”

Like you taught me.

Was it sick to be turned on by that phrasing?

Suddenly, he was picturing Skylar beneath him in the queen-sized bed they were sharing, both of them naked while he pumped

home, his hands shaking as they pressed her knees open, their mouths slanting, panting.

Did I make you hard just like you taught me?

Even in the fantasy, his response was incoherent.