Page 22 of Pitcher Perfect (Big Shots #4)

Skylar stared at her parents as they gave instructions for the rock climbing challenge. Doug’s mouth was moving, expounding

on his journey to becoming a certified climber while everyone else baked bread during Covid, but Skylar was only catching

every seventh or eighth word. Ever since Robbie... did that. On her bed. Just did it right there. A low, horny hum had

been taking up most of her ear function.

She’d gone through the motions while harnessing up and preparing for the climb, her brain moving at half the usual speed.

Slogging. Making robot beeps. Could anyone blame her? How was she supposed to live with that mental imagery?

Look. She’d shared a bathroom with her brother starting at age twelve. As she’d reached later teenhood, that period of time

in their respective youths when he’d taken forty-five-minute showers had made a lot more sense.

Unfortunately, by then, it had been too late to start hiding her loofa, but she digressed. Male masturbation wasn’t some exotic

idea. She knew it occurred with great frequency. Had even overheard her brother’s friends talking about it from time to time.

She’d just never expected to see someone doing it two feet away.

And enjoying it so much.

Talking to her— about her—while he enjoyed it so much.

Time to face facts. Robbie’s hotness was beginning to be a problem.

Madden was standing ten yards to her left, reconnoitering with Elton about strategy for the challenge, and Skylar could focus on nothing but the memory of Robbie’s corded forearm shifting and flexing while he stroked himself.

The way his neck strained. The glazed quality of his eyes.

The way he’d lifted his hips on a particularly thorough stroke, making a choked sound. Panting.

How he’d reached completion to thoughts of them. Together.

I’m thinking of my spit all over them. How I’ll lick it on there to help my hips slide when I’m riding you into the goddamn

ground.

Brain cells were pouring out of her nostrils at this point.

Panicked, she zoned out and attempted to picture Madden in the same position on the edge of her childhood bed, pleasuring

himself while she watched... and she couldn’t even imagine it. Madden would never speak to her like that, would he? Had

he spent too many years thinking of her as Elton’s little sister to be that... blunt and unabashed and sexual in her presence?

Because... oof. She liked it.

A lot.

Robbie gave her a subtle nudge in the ribs. “Look alive, Rocket.”

“I’m alive. I’m ready.”

“You’re as red as my hair.”

“It’s... the preclimb adrenaline. It’s beginning to surge—”

“Right.” Sighing, he faced his thick body toward Skylar, leaning down to whisper in the hair above her ear, the action blowing

a warm shiver down her spine. An even more heightened sense of awareness than before. One that she really didn’t want . “Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have done that in front of you.”

“I asked you to do it.” God, her voice sounded husky.

“Maybe so, but we deviated from your schedule. I knew better than to do that. You told me we were sticking to the plan.” He slid her a glance. “Now you look like you’ve just returned from an alien encounter.”

“That’s not so far off.” She cut him off before he could respond. “Don’t you dare make a joke about the Milky Way.”

“How?” He stared. “How did you know?”

She pursed her lips at him. “I told you, I played on the boys’ team in middle school. Fluid jokes are part of the deal.”

“You never told me the boys were being inappropriate, Skylar,” Vivica said, coming up behind them unexpectedly, dismay written

all over her face. “I would have said something to the coach.”

“It’s okay, Mom.” Skylar waved off her mother’s concern, even though it felt nice to have Vivica focus on her feelings. A

rarity. “The guys probably would have just laid it on thicker.”

Robbie choked. Turned white from holding his breath.

Vivica didn’t seem to notice. “That kind of thing can really affect someone’s performance.” She rolled an irritable shoulder.

“They’re lucky it didn’t.”

“Right.” Skylar exhaled. “My performance is what matters most.”

“Hell, yeah, it is,” Elton said, hands on hips, staring up at the rock face. “Ask the scout from Brown.”

Three members of her family snorted, passing a knowing look among their trio. Even if her mother frowned after only a few

seconds of mirth and gave the men a reproving look, Skylar still felt that comment in the deepest pit of her stomach.

“Honey.” Doug sent his wife a tight smile. “Wasn’t it Mark Twain that said, ‘The two most important days in your life are

the day you were born and the day you find out why’?”

“Yes, it was,” Vivica confirmed with a squeeze of Skylar’s shoulder. “Words to live by. And she does, to the best of her ability.

That is all any parent could ask for.”

“Thanks,” Skylar said with a fleeting smile, just wanting the conversation to be over, please, for the love of everything holy. When Vivica walked away to go consult with Doug, Skylar let out the breath she’d been holding and all at once, became aware of Robbie’s bewildered scrutiny.

“Holy shit, that was unhinged. Are you good?” Robbie asked, seeing way more than was comfortable. How had this man been a

part of her life so briefly and already knew her triggers? The tension with her family regarding her shortcomings. Her scheduling

quirks. He’d picked up on her so fast.

It was as comforting as it was scary.

“Yeah.” When he raised an eyebrow at her, his concern obvious, Skylar repeated herself, quieter this time, grateful for his

presence despite her growing concern that she and Robbie were getting too close, too fast. “Yes.”

After a moment of scrutiny, he nodded. “Great. Because I’ve got two things to say. One. Nothing is ever going to be more important than you, regardless of how you perform. Got that?”

“Yes,” she managed, pulse tripping.

“Good.” He studied her for a moment, as if to confirm, before bracing. “And two... I can’t even look at that rock wall

without getting sick.”

Still flustered from the first part of that statement, she worked to recover. “Just stick to the plan.”

“The plan is not foolproof.”

“It’s the best we’ve got.”

His mouth flattened into a grim line, signs of seasickness beginning to creep into his complexion. Such a range of moods in

one morning. Worry. Humor. Apprehension. Sensuality... with a mesmerizing side of helplessness at the end. When his muscles

tensed up and his shaft darkened and he’d groaned, that fist picking up speed—

“Skylar,” Robbie said, his laugh more like a scrape.

“What?”

“Have I ever told you that whatever you’re thinking shows on your face?”

Impossible. She was a pitcher. A poker face was essential, and she’d sharpened the skill like a knife over the last decade.

Dina remarked on it all the time. Was it possible that Robbie alone could discern her thoughts so easily without a word? No.

Absolutely not. “What am I thinking about?”

“Not the challenge,” he snorted.

“Oh?”

“ My O. That’s what you’re thinking about.” He closed the already scant distance between them while running his tongue along his

lower lip. “Guess it’s only fair since all I can think about is getting one out of you.”

“Oh.”

He hummed low in his throat. “There’s that word again.” His pupils had nearly eclipsed the green of his irises at this point.

“I’ll give you as many as you can fucking stand, Skylar. Swear to God, just set me loose.”

There was no breath remaining in Skylar’s lungs when her parents blew the air horn.

Birds screeched out of the trees overhead, plunging her back into reality with a wheezing gasp, her spine snapping to attention.

A monumental feat considering heat rolled through the lowest region of her belly like thunder, her skin hot and clammy. Another

vision of Robbie hitting his peak threatened to garner her brain power once again, but she managed to stave it off with a

wave of determination. Focus.

“Okay, teams,” boomed her father, turning sideways to indicate six ropes hanging from the cliff overhead.

At the end of each one was a harness. “As we communicated in the challenge sheet, one member of the team will ascend to the top of the peak and retrieve the flag, bringing it down to their partner. That partner will then climb to the same spot and plant the flag. First team to stake their team colors in the soil wins. Are the instructions clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Madden and Elton said, approaching the line and attaching it to their harness with the metal carabiner, testing

the hold. Skylar joined them, doing the same. Meanwhile, Robbie stayed where he was, the trench between his brows growing

deeper by the second.

Her father frowned at Robbie. “Aren’t you going to attach yourself to the line, son?”

“Actually, no. He’s not,” Skylar answered on his behalf. “The rules stated that the first player must ascend to the top of

the peak. But it didn’t specify how.”

Doug and Vivica traded a puzzled look. “I think it was abundantly clear that both players are required to climb,” blustered

Doug.

“We read it differently, Dad,” Skylar said breezily.

“Wow. This is the first year you’ve felt the need to cheat, Sky,” Elton cut in. “But don’t worry, I’m sure it has nothing

to do with your new partner.”

“Eat a dick, Elton,” she chirped back without missing a beat.

“Skylar!” Vivica was not pleased. “Language!”

Robbie’s appreciative laughter, however, cracked behind her, stealing a very immature giggle from Skylar’s throat. In her

defense, there was usually no one on her side. Skylar versus the unrelenting torture of her older brother who never seemed

to be admonished for teasing her. That was normal. During the rare times she’d broken down and cried when the sibling rivalry

had gotten out of hand, her parents had ordered her in no uncertain terms to suck it up.

You’re tough, Sky.

You’re tougher than this.

This will only make you tougher.

Robbie standing behind her, laughing at her insult, might be a small thing to some people. But it was big and wonderful to

her. She looked back at him over her shoulder to give him an appreciative smile, which, for some reason, made him appear...

winded? Like he’d been socked in the gut? Clearly, his fear of heights was rearing its ugly head.

As soon as Doug blew the whistle, Robbie started to sprint.

Last night, he and Skylar had devised a plan—a terrible one, honestly, but his phobia of heights had left them little choice.

In this outlandish scenario, he would run west as fast as possible to the path leading to the top of the rock face, which

was a good quarter mile of uneven terrain away, thus avoiding the actual climb. He’d retrieve the flag from the top of the

cliff, hopefully without spewing his guts, before running back and tagging in Skylar for her leg of the climb.

Not a foolproof plan. His muscles were already tensing at the prospect of seeing the ground from such a high height. And as

he wove through trees and leapt over fallen branches, he could think of nothing but Skylar’s smile. How she’d looked at him

right before the whistle blew. Like he was some kind of hero.

Something told him he was about to disprove that theory.

It burned like hell that Madden was probably halfway up the rock face by now, no fear holding him back. As if the guy needed

one more advantage.

Robbie spied the path and turned on a dime, running full speed up the gradual incline, passing a hiking couple who were startled by the sudden appearance of a six-foot-five man with a warrior’s physique.

It called into focus exactly how bananas this entire competition happened to be.

No time to dwell on that, however, as he’d nearly reached the top of the cliff. ..

That’s when the dizziness started to set in, his stomach elevating toward his mouth.

The pace of his run slowed without a command from his brain, suddenly feeling as if he’d slung his equipment bag over each

shoulder. Heavy. Lethargic. Blurry. Everything blurred, the ground growing less stable beneath his feet the closer he came

toward the red flag where it sat buried in the ground. Too close to the edge. Way too close.

Robbie got down on his knees and started to crawl, desperately trying to avoid looking into the distance where he could see

the tops of trees, a reservoir, the view making it obvious he was elevated. His temples started to throb, acid spearing up

his chest, and he stopped feeling the earth beneath his hands, his knees.

Somewhere in the whirlwind of warnings being issued by his brain— danger, danger —he saw his grandfather at the bottom of the cliff back on Long Island, waiting for him to untangle the yellow box kite from

the tree. Robbie hadn’t been able to retrieve that kite, either, and though Grandpa Nick had hidden his disappointment well,

he’d hated driving away and leaving it there. His favorite kite. Stuck in the tree overlooking the Atlantic forever, because

he’d died before he’d gotten it back. Robbie could still see it blowing in the breeze.

He opened his eyes just in time to see Madden crest the top of the cliff and snatch up his team’s flag, giving Robbie a look

of sympathy before disappearing from view once again. Robbie, who couldn’t make himself move any closer to the edge without

either blacking out or having a nervous breakdown.

Skylar replaced the mental image of his grandfather at the base of the drop and all he could do was lay his head down and

wait for the nausea to pass.