Page 36 of Pitcher Perfect (Big Shots #4)

Wipe the grin off your face, fool.

Robbie physically did just that on his way to track down Doug, dragging his palm downward over the lower half of his face.

But damn, it wasn’t easy to hide the satisfaction of having finally given Skylar an orgasm. A good one, too. She hadn’t seen

the intensity of it coming, if her unblinking eyes and flushed skin afterward were any indication, and all he wanted to do

was get between those legs and give her more. Wanted her to chain-smoke pleasure until she was addicted to his body.

He realized he’d stopped walking halfway down the hallway, his dick telling him to go back. Go get in bed with her. With a

wave of determination, though, he kept going. Because Jesus, he hadn’t lied about feeling vulnerable. Had any of the women

he’d blown off felt this way about him? I hope not. It was tough business wanting to mean something to a person and not knowing if they were interested in more than sex. If

they were willing to give a relationship a shot. The ache was heavy. Unrequited.

As he walked through the living area and out onto the back deck, he spied Doug sitting in an Adirondack chair, staring out at the line of trees with a frown, hands limp and resting on his bare knees.

Moved to silence by the same woman for a very different reason.

Robbie couldn’t help but feel responsible for forcing the family to make a breakthrough in the middle of their sacred yearly visit, although the fact that Skylar nearly drowned saved him from too much guilt.

“What’s good, Doug?”

The older man shifted, sat up straighter. “Robbie.” After a moment, he put his hand out for a shake. “It all happened so fast

out there, I’m not sure I thanked you properly.”

They gripped and shook. “My mom will be glad to know junior lifeguard camp wasn’t a waste of money.”

A subdued chuckle from Doug. “It sure wasn’t.”

Elton joined them on the deck, but he had a much stronger drink in his hand than wine. Whiskey, maybe. “How is Skylar?” he

asked, leaning a hip against the wooden rail.

Damn, it felt great to be the one who knew the answer to how is Skylar? A beat-his-fucking-chest kind of great. “She’s good now. Warmed up and resting.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her shaken up like that,” Elton said.

Doug let out a breath. “Me either.”

Robbie’s pulse was starting to race, just thinking about the moment he realized she was in trouble. “Maybe I should have a

drink, too.”

Elton disappeared into the house, returning a minute later with a second rocks glass holding a golden liquid, handing it to

Robbie. “Bottoms up.”

They clinked glasses and tossed back the liquor.

“You know, it’s a kick in the ass to find out you’ve missed something important happening to one of your children. And Skylar

might not be mine biologically, but she is my daughter.”

“And she’s my sister,” Elton tacked on. “I should have seen it, too. She needed to be encouraged. Congratulated. And all I

ever do is push for more . Bigger accomplishments.” He tapped the bottom of his empty glass on the railing. “Meanwhile, my best friend is going to the Yankees and I’m sitting here inhaling his dust. Who am I to expect so much from her when my own goals are still so far out of reach?”

Doug turned in his seat. “Are you talking about Madden?”

“Yeah. He told me this afternoon. He got scouted at spring training.”

“Son of a bitch,” Doug murmured, pride arranging his features. “Good for him.”

“Damn.” As someone who knew the time and toil it took to reach the professional level of a sport—even baseball—Robbie couldn’t

help but give his romantic rival some credit. Even though it burned. “Being a pro was the one thing I had over him.”

“Meaning what?” Elton said, raising an eyebrow.

Robbie coughed. “Nothing.” Although, with both men opening up about their woes, he had the strange urge to share his own.

This is what happened when three men drank on a porch. “Skylar isn’t totally sold on me yet,” he blurted.

Doug turned, dumbstruck. “ What? ”

Elton rolled his eyes. “Yes, she is.”

“No. She’s not.” Robbie shook his head adamantly, but he stopped abruptly when Elton’s protest really sank in. “Wait. Why

do you think she is? Did she say something to you?”

“She let you carry her,” Elton said, shrugging. “That’s it. That’s how I know.”

“Okay, but I’m feeling vulnerable, so could you elaborate?”

“I’m feeling vulnerable, too!” Doug announced.

“Me three,” Elton muttered.

Doug slapped his knee. “I don’t like it.”

“Can we go back to the significance of Skylar letting me carry her, please?”

“Christ, needy pants. Fine.” Elton thought for a moment, then turned to lean back against the railing.

“When she was twelve, we were all still getting used to our blended family. Dad and Vivica couldn’t make one of Sky’s games, so they made me take her.

Cheer her on. And I went, but grudgingly.

This was before she started with travel softball, so it was a baseball game.

” His gaze softened. “That’s the day I claimed her as my sister.

The guys were hard on her, but she kept her chin up.

Kept pitching. But somewhere around the bottom of the sixth, she took a line drive to the stomach. ”

Nausea pitched inside of Robbie at the unexpected turn in the story. “No.”

“Yeah. It took the wind out of her. Took her out of the game. And she was only twelve, but she still wouldn’t let the coach

carry her. My sister crawled into the dugout. She doesn’t put aside her pride for anyone. Trust is even more sparing.” He waved his empty glass in Robbie’s

direction. “She gave you both. Happy now?”

“No. Now I’m thinking about her almost drowning and with a bruised stomach.”

“Oh yeah, it bruised. Eight shades of fuchsia.”

Robbie glared at Skylar’s brother.

“If Skylar has any doubts left, I’m sure she’ll come around, son,” Doug said, massaging the bridge of his nose. His hand dropped.

“And Elton, the fact that Madden got pulled up before you is only encouraging. It gives you something to work for.”

“I know. I’m proud of him. I wish I wasn’t the kind of person that took someone else’s accomplishments and turned them into

my own failures.”

“It’s probably my fault.” Doug dipped his chin. “I’m not as good of a father as I thought I was.”

“Yes, you are,” Elton and Robbie insisted.

Robbie reached over and clapped the older man on the shoulder. “Your adult children wouldn’t continue to come back for this

psychotic-ass competition if they didn’t love and appreciate you.”

“Thanks,” Doug said dryly.

“You’re welcome, man. All true.”

“I think we all need another drink,” Elton announced.

“There’s nothing left,” Doug said, coming to his feet. “I’ll make a run into town.”

Elton sighed, thought for a beat. “Maybe we should just have a drink in town? There’s the pub, a wine bar... or that divey karaoke place off Main.”

“Karaoke?” Doug’s eyes lit up. “Is there a prize for the best singer?”

“Nope. It’s done for pure enjoyment.”

Robbie put an arm around Doug’s shoulders and ushered him off the porch. “Come on. The lack of competition will be good for

you.”

An hour later, it became obvious that Doug would not have won, either way.

Unless they were crowning the most enthusiastic bad singer.

In which case, Skylar’s dad was the champ.

But sitting in the dive bar, listening to a local sing “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” while getting better acquainted with

the people who loved the woman he loved, Robbie definitely felt like he’d won.

Almost.