Page 23 of Pitcher Perfect (Big Shots #4)

Robbie Corrigan was not good at losing.

He was an even worse loser when he dragged Skylar down with him.

The ride back to the house was as close as one could get to hell. Parents up front humming out of tune to KC and the Sunshine

Band, Elton in the back seat swiping Tinder matches... and Skylar sandwiched between him and Madden—who hadn’t turned the

color of a tomato and nearly swallowed his tongue due to a thirty-foot drop—in the middle row.

Madden looked deep in thought, as always, like some kind of hulking-ass poet, but Robbie wasn’t buying the act. Every time

Madden’s thigh brushed Skylar’s, he knew exactly what he was doing. Driving nails into Robbie’s composure, that’s what. There

were three rows in this tank of an SUV. Why hadn’t Madden sat in the far back seat with Elton?

Same reason as Robbie, most likely. They couldn’t fit through the opening. And since Skylar would rather shave off her eyebrows

than sit beside a gloating Elton, the middle row was the only option for all of them.

Three had never been more of a crowd.

Robbie wanted to put his arm around Skylar and make it clear any rogue thigh brushing was not welcome, but he didn’t deserve the privilege after such a humiliating show of fear back during the climb.

She had to be wondering why she’d trusted him enough to bring him on as a teammate.

And now he had to drive back to Boston for practice, leaving her within striking distance of Madden aka Sad Boi Mad.

God, she looked so fucking pretty, too. Sun-kissed and a little disheveled, the glow of her skin standing out against her

white tank top.

Madden had to be noticing by now.

Robbie glanced over at the other man, positive he’d find him checking out Skylar and vice versa—but he was surprised instead

to find Skylar looking at him . Robbie.

“You’re dwelling,” she whispered.

“Dwelling?” He feigned confusion. “On what?”

Exasperation only made her more beautiful. “Not handling the height very well,” she explained, as if teaching a toddler his

ABCs. “You have to shake it off.”

“I already have. It has long been shooketh.”

“Come on. You won’t even look at me.”

“I’m looking right at you.”

“Those are my boobs, Redbeard.”

Robbie snorted, waved her off. Stared out the rear passenger window. “I’m just trying to lock in for practice tonight.”

She hummed. In the window’s reflection, he noticed her looking down at her fingers.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“ Nothing. I just... wish you weren’t going.”

His head swiveled around so fast, he gave himself a crick. “Why not?”

A pink blush coasted upward toward her hairline.

Oh. Okay. Damn, he was slow on the uptake sometimes.

Skylar was obviously trying to flirt with him in front of Madden and he was dropping the ball. But Jesus, he didn’t have much selflessness in his tank right now. Hardly any.

Find some.

“Yeah, I don’t want to leave, either,” he said quietly, kissing her forehead. “I don’t want to leave you for a single minute,

actually,” Robbie added, in a rush of honesty, feeling Madden’s gaze on them as Robbie executed what was beginning to feel

less and less like deception. At least on his end. Skylar still wanted to have Madden’s babies.

They’d produce brooding pitchers with big eyes and a cautious nature.

Meanwhile, if Robbie and Skylar procreated and combined their competitive streaks and mutual mischief, their children would

probably set shit on fire and howl at the moon.

Robbie flicked Madden a glance before he could completely hide his envy. Skylar saw it and tilted her head, considering him,

then Madden.

As if she’d forgotten the catcher was sitting there, nearly plastered to her side?

Wishful thinking, at best .

“Home sweet home,” called Doug from the front seat.

“Please take off your dirty shoes before going inside,” Vivica said absently, before she twisted in her seat to regard the

occupants of the van. “Everyone has plans tonight, as I understand it, so we won’t bother cooking. Every man for himself.”

“What?” Elton piped up from the back seat. “I don’t have plans.”

“Loser,” Skylar said, without hesitation, tugging up one corner of Robbie’s mouth.

Dammit, she was so cool.

They would have had so much fun together.

If she wasn’t in love with someone else and he hadn’t outed himself as a womanizer on day one—a fair title, honestly.

That’s what he’d been for years. She was right to set her sights elsewhere.

Obviously. Although something inside of him was starting to.

.. feel a lot less inclined to let her go.

Or help her attract Madden.

Also known as the only goddamn reason he was in Rhode Island.

No. His teammates had warned him about this.

Getting attached. Wanting Skylar for himself.

Don’t reach for something you can’t have.

“Sorry, I, uh...” Robbie took off his seat belt, his earlier queasiness threatening to return. “I better grab my things

and get on the road. Don’t want to be late for practice.”

Madden had already climbed out of the van before Robbie finished speaking. Skylar continued to regard him for two, three breaths,

then exited, as well, Robbie close behind. He didn’t stop on his way into the house. Something weird was happening inside

of his chest and he needed to get out of there, before it sprouted spikes and sank them in.

He kicked off his sneakers to the right of the front door and entered the house, beelining for Skylar’s back bedroom. Indecision

and frustration crowded in on him from all sides. He didn’t want to leave her there with Madden. He also knew it was dangerous

to stay and absorb more of what he couldn’t have.

As soon as he reached the bedroom, he unplugged his cell phone charger and stuffed it into his bag, intending to hit the bathroom

next where he would collect his toothbrush—

The bedroom door snicked shut.

Skylar stood just inside the door.

“You’re not coming back, are you?”

Once she said it out loud, he acknowledged it to himself. That’s exactly what his instincts were demanding he do. Get out

while he could. Get out before he fell in love with her.

Was he too late?

“I don’t know,” he said, finally, in response to her question.

“It was one challenge, Robbie. You’re overreacting.”

He almost laughed. She thought his wanting to bail was all about the climb. No. That might have sparked this epiphany, but

his reason for blowing this joint was a lot more complicated than embarrassment over not being able to accept a loss.

Skylar crossed the bedroom and sat heavily on the edge of her mattress, looking down at her palms, as if she’d never seen

them before.

He had.

He’d studied those pitching calluses in the predawn light for the last two days when he couldn’t sleep, his gaze continually

drawn to her fingers, slack in sleep, dangling over the side of the bed. As if she’d dozed off in the act of reaching for

him.

“Please, don’t do this, okay?” Skylar said now, looking up at him, so openly vulnerable his lungs suddenly grew twice their

weight. “Today was the first Page Stakes where I felt like I was on a team. Around my family.” She was silent for a moment.

“Maybe anywhere, really. Pitching is so solitary, even when you’re surrounded by teammates. I know my family is intense and

the Page Stakes are wacky, but I feel like we have a chance. I feel... I don’t want you to go.”

Don’t you dare read anything into that.

“I have practice, Skylar.”

“I’m not trying to keep you from practice. I’m talking about in the morning. Are you going to come back or stay in Boston?”

Robbie didn’t respond. How could he?

One choice disappointed her. The other one had the potential to devastate him.

“I’ll text you after practice.”

“Bullshit.”

“Skylar...” I overestimated my ability to hand you over to someone else. Someone better. With that truth ringing in his head, he turned to leave.

Before he could open the bedroom door, Skylar’s hand twisted in the back of his T-shirt, holding him in place. “Wait.”

All at once, he couldn’t gather a breath, his chest tight with the need to turn around and look at her. Soak her in again.

Don’t do it.

“Thank you for coming. For staying as long as you did,” she said, getting herself together. Enough to sound a little formal,

but sincere. “I’m sorry it has to end like this.”

End.

End?

That’s what he would do by leaving. End this, end them for good. Leaving before his part in the bargain was fulfilled. Not only his role as her fake boyfriend, but... the itinerary

would never be completed. Jesus, if he left here without giving her making out day, at the very least, no greater crime would

ever be committed. From now until the end of time.

“Why aren’t you leaving?” she whispered.

For a full three seconds, time and movement suspended, her words turning the air sluggish, even while his pulse started to

beat a thousand miles an hour. Briefly, white light bled into the edges of his vision, his grip around the handle of his duffel

growing less and less sure. In the end, it was the promise of her taste, the silkiness of her hair in his hands. The chance

to burn himself into her brain, the way she’d done to him.

“I can’t fucking leave without knowing what it’s like to kiss you...” he said through his teeth. “When it’s just for us. Not for anyone else. Not for show.”

Clearly sensing his hesitation to go, the conflict being waged inside of him, Skylar maintained her hold on his shirt, using

it to pull herself closer, closer, while he held his breath, letting it out on a big shudder when she went up on her toes,

pressing her open mouth to the back of his neck and releasing a warm exhale.

“Go on. Show me how to make out, Robbie.”

Heat and hunger trampled through him. Juggernauts. “ Skylar. ”

Her right hand traveled slowly along his rib cage to the front of his body, pausing momentarily at the top of his abdominal