Page 19 of Pitcher Perfect (Big Shots #4)

“Yeah. The vets make sure you know that’s where you are—the bottom.” His thick shoulder jerked. “It’s a rite of passage, I

guess.”

Forcing a newbie to earn their stripes via unfair treatment or harsher judgment was an unfortunate reality in the sports world, though Skylar suspected it was more intense in men’s hockey than softball.

BU’s softball program was a fostering environment.

Team bonding was not only encouraged, but facilitated by the coaching staff.

Based on the way Robbie shifted his position, as if uncomfortable where the conversation was leading, she got the feeling the Bearcats didn’t have those same systems as firmly in place.

“But that treatment from the vets really bothers you.”

He opened his mouth, closing it before he could say anything. “Nah, it’s fine.” He chuckled finally, amusement lines fanning

out from the corners of his eyes. “It’s all in good fun—and it’s starting to get better, little by little. I just need to

put in a few years of work and they’ll start taking me seriously. As a person and as a player.” He waved his free hand. “I’m

no different than anyone else who came before me, right?”

No. Not right. He’d struck a chord. “ Everyone is different. Our experiences make us that way.” Skylar hesitated, surprised to find herself wanting to share something with

Robbie that she hadn’t shared with anyone, except for Dina. Aspirations for her future career behind the scenes. “Part of

the reason I want to go into coaching someday is that no two players are the same, and I don’t always see that taken into

consideration. Yell the same directive at three players and get three different results. One of them will shut down, one will

die trying to follow instructions, the third one will raise hell, yell back. That’s why the best coaches—and teammates, for

that matter—recognize strengths and weaknesses in a person and coach to those qualities.”

Did his eyes seem a little glazed, or...? “God, you’re so fucking smart.”

The unexpected compliment caused pressure to gather in her chest. “I... thanks.”

“You’re going to be a badass coach. Makes me want to grow a ponytail and try out for your squad.”

She rolled her eyes to hide a smile. “You wouldn’t make it ten minutes without trying to pick up every girl on the field, Redbeard.”

“The hell I wouldn’t,” he said, affronted. “Look at me. I’ve learned the error of my ways.” Slowly, he reached over, settled

a hand on her knee and squeezed, causing a very distressing tingle at the juncture of her thighs, an acceleration of her pulse.

Oh my. Oh no, what was that reaction about? “And anyway, I’ve only got a thing for pitchers, don’t I?”

Skylar put her most concerted effort into not looking down at the trapezius muscles peeking out of the collar of Robbie’s

T-shirt. And not thinking about the casual power of his outstretched thighs beneath the table. How all of him seemed to be

poised. Waiting. “Is this another round of flirting practice?” she asked, so quietly her voice was almost swallowed by the

din of the restaurant.

“Flirting practice.” His expression didn’t budge. “Sure, that’s what we’ll call it.”

Stop. Stop looking at his mouth. “I don’t think I’m cut out for small talk.”

“Says who?” He leaned in while wetting that mouth she was not supposed to be staring at like it was her club sandwich arriving

early but... wow, he had the sexiest lips. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, the texture and give and temperature

of them had been plaguing her brain since they’d kissed this morning. Obviously, she hadn’t kissed anyone for so long, she’d

entered a state of shock.

Right.

“I think you’re cut out for a lot of things, Skylar.”

“I’m afraid to ask what you mean.”

“Afraid of the answer?” His hand on her knee slid ever so slowly to midthigh, massaging, and she couldn’t believe... couldn’t believe the moisture gathering in the seam of her flesh. In a Cheesecake Factory. With Robbie. Not Madden.

“Yes,” she whispered.

His voice was like sandpaper against her ear now. “Afraid you might want to skip forward to make out day?”

Oh. God.

It has been so long , cried her libido, sounding like a granny.

“Me?” she asked, breathily. “No, I’m not worried I’ll want to skip forward.”

“Are you sure?” He tilted his head, examining her mouth like a lion sizing up a mouse. “If I know your strengths and weaknesses,

I can coach to those qualities.”

“Wow.” She tried to give him a look of stern disappointment but couldn’t quite keep the amusement out of her tone. Was she

having fun with this guy and getting turned on at the same time? She’d never experienced that combination before. Hadn’t really

believed it possible. Keep it going. You’re learning from him. “You have no shame,” she said lightly, tracing the hand on her thigh with the pad of her index finger, watching his eyes

darken dramatically. “Using my own methodology to trick me into making out with you.”

“I’m not smart enough to trick you,” he said, those blunt fingers lingering on the inside of her knee, moving in a gentle

circle that continued to stir something far from gentle inside of her. “I wouldn’t even try.”

“Ironically, that proves you are smart.”

They smiled at each other in the low light, Skylar exasperated to find she had to work hard to control her breathing.

To control the need to grab a fist of that red hair and drag his mouth down to hers, sealing them together.

Forget skipping to Tuesday, she should be more concerned about Thursday coming early.

As in, welcome to the main event. Yeah, good thing they were in public, because she could easily go for some of that right now.

Purely because her body hadn’t been joined with a man’s body in such a long time.

She’d been picturing her next time with Madden, daydreaming about his careful hands on her skin, but right now?

Robbie and his thickly honed body seemed to be taking up a lot of air.

Too much air to picture anyone or anything else in her mind’s eye.

That had to be the only reason she wanted to climb onto Robbie’s lap and feel his sex through her jeans. Against her own.

Rubbing herself against him there while his tongue stroked in her mouth. And God, that made her disloyal, didn’t it?

Not only to Madden, the idea of them, but to her own plans. Her goals.

Because her eagerness was a little too much to consider Robbie merely... practice.

She needed some time to get ahold of herself.

Thankfully, plate after plate of food were steadily being set down on their table, forcing Robbie to remove his hand from

her thigh and release her from his embrace, though he seemed reluctant to do so. Was he... enjoying their “date” as much

as she was?

When she would normally keep that kind of worry to herself, something about Robbie made her feel okay about voicing it. Maybe

it was his self-deprecating humor or the fact that he’d never judged her request for guidance with men. Whatever the reason,

she didn’t hesitate. “What are you thinking about?” she asked, weirdly positive he’d tell her the truth. Geez, that certainty

was comforting.

“It’s killing me that I might let you down tomorrow, Rocket,” he said.

“We haven’t lost yet,” Skylar reassured him, picking up a fry and waving it around like a conductor’s baton. “I’m just waiting

for inspiration to strike.”

They sat side by side for a full minute, Robbie plowing through his chicken parmesan like it had deeply offended him, before the idea came to Skylar.

“Coach to a player’s strengths and weaknesses, right?”

Robbie said something unintelligible around a mouthful of pasta.

She popped the fry into her mouth, suddenly eager for the morning challenge to arrive. “I’ve got a plan.”