Page 8 of Pitcher Perfect (Big Shots #4)

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Skylar idled outside of a luxury high-rise in East Cambridge, her fingers clutched tightly around the steering wheel. Those

digits only stiffened when Robbie Corrigan emerged through the double glass doors with a bag thrown over his shoulder, the

picture of casual in loose, navy-blue sweatpants, slides, and a hoodie. A black ballcap was pulled low over his forehead,

his red hair fanned out around the sides. He scanned the circular driveway in front of the building where plenty of other

drivers waited to ferry residents to work on the other side of the Longfellow Bridge.

When he spotted her, he took off his hat and executed a quick bow, before slapping the ballcap back down over his messy bed

head.

Skylar shook her head at him, but at the same time, she was noticing how the wind blew the material of his sweatpants up against

his thickly muscled thighs. How the strap of his duffel bag journeyed between two hefty pecs, needlessly making them more

prominent. She’d been pondering those pecs, more than she should have, because her breasts had made the unfortunate mistake

of grazing them when she kissed him in a fit of temporary madness. They were hard as iron.

And all that pec pondering had led to mouth reminiscing.

It was a very nice mouth.

A very smoothly confident mouth that obviously got a lot of exercise.

Instead of stopping at the passenger door, Robbie swaggered past the window of her white 2017 Honda Accord, knocked on the

trunk, and waited.

Waited for what?

A... hug, maybe? Should she get out and give him one?

Don’t you dare acknowledge that ticklish strain in your nipples.

“Are you going to open the trunk or does our journey end here, Rocket?” Robbie shouted through the rear windshield.

“Oh!” Red-faced, she sprung the trunk open, slapping at the air-conditioning controls to turn up the air. “Sorry,” she muttered

a moment later, when he sprawled into the seat beside her, taking up way more space than anyone who’d ever occupied that side

of the Honda. Dina could never. And those thighs were even more prolific up close.

Had he smelled like this on Saturday? Like musk and cinnamon?

No, she would have remembered. How long would her car smell like this after their week together ended? For some reason, knowing

any part of him might linger was... daunting? Why?

Didn’t matter.

Main takeaway: as far as fake boyfriends went, she could do a lot worse.

“Hey,” he said, grinning at her from beneath the brim of his hat. “Miss me?”

“No, but I’m looking forward to it.”

He let out one of those brief cracks of laughter. “This is so us, right? Starting off this adventure with contempt. Setting

the tone.”

Skylar implored the ceiling for patience, then put the Honda into drive. “Are you going to be this annoying the whole hour

and a half drive?”

He flashed his teeth. “I’ll put my unique charm on the back burner for now.

We’re going to need the full ninety minutes for you to educate me on your town, your family.

You.” She felt his attention travel down the side of her profile.

“If we’re going to be convincing, I’ll need to know more than just the casual details. ”

Skylar had a lot more to discuss with him than backstory on this trip, but she needed to work up the courage first. “You live

in a nice building.”

“Yeah, thanks. Mailer and I went in on a condo together.”

“Mailer, as in...”

“My teammate, wingman, buddy. Henry Mailer. We have separate bathrooms—that’s the key to a successful marriage.”

“I’ll try and remember that.” She glanced over at him. “Is it common for a professional athlete to have a roommate?”

“It’s more common than you think. First year in the league, nothing feels stable enough yet to put down roots. Everyone upstairs

is watching to see if you live up to expectations.” He made himself more comfortable in the seat. “Mailer and I have a deal

that whoever moves out first has to pay the other back for their half of the condo. Just in case one of us gets traded. Or...

other horrible things that shan’t be named.”

“Like a career-ending injury?”

He clutched at his chest. “Jesus, woman. You of all people should know you’re not supposed to put that possibility out into

the universe.”

“Sorry,” she muttered, genuinely chagrined, because he was right. She did know better. She blamed her lack of tact on the

topic weighing heavily on her mind. How she’d bring it up. How he would react. “For what it’s worth, you’ve obviously had

numerous blows to the head and you’re still playing.”

“Good point,” he said without missing a beat. “Mailer and I also co-own a truck, but he has custody this week.”

“This sounds like a totally normal friendship with healthy boundaries.”

“Thank you for noticing,” he said, smiling unironically. “What about you? What’s your living situation?”

“I live alone.” She rolled her lips inward to wet them. “I’m kind of meticulous when it comes to my surroundings. I need things

to be in their place. For instance, I can’t fall asleep if someone else is watching television in the living room. I just

need everything and everyone to be settled and in their place in order to relax. It made the first year of college, when I

was living in the dorm, pretty difficult.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” He was watching her thoughtfully, as if running back through that explanation more than once. “A messy

outdoor competition must be pretty hard for you, then.”

“No joke.”

“Why do you compete in these games, then?”

“I don’t really have a choice. When you meet my parents, you’ll understand.” Skylar accelerated to join the flow of traffic

on I-95. “My stepdad’s name is Doug, by the way. My mother is Vivica. They both grew up in Rhode Island.” A tickle of discomfort

made itself known in her throat, spreading as she spoke. “They both attended Brown, though they didn’t meet until much later

in life. Everyone in my family, including Elton, has attended Brown. Except me.”

“You wanted to shake things up?”

It took her a breath to respond. “No, I didn’t get accepted.”

“Oh.” Robbie shifted his attention to the windshield, as if he knew she didn’t want to be scrutinized in that moment. “Guess

they made a mistake, so.”

“You don’t have to say that,” Skylar rushed to say, deftly blocking the feeling of gratitude.

Nope. She’d blown her opportunity and she needed to own that.

“Anyway, unlike me, you are googleable. I memorized your bio on the Bearcats website, so I know you grew up on Long Island. Attended Quinnipiac. Drafted in the second round last year by the Bearcats. Can eat a breakfast sandwich in three bites.”

“I can eat a breakfast sandwich in one bite. I was being polite.”

She made an interested sound. “Could there be a gentleman lurking in there after all?”

“If there is, I doubt we’re going to find out this week.” He reached up and took hold of the handle over the door. “Not when

there’s an aluminum can trophy on the line.”

“That’s the spirit.” She realized her lips were turned upward at the corners, but the fledgling smile froze in place when

she remembered the plan she’d formulated. Was this her opening to bring it up? Was he going to hear this idea and immediately

ask her to turn around, drive him back to East Cambridge? Because Skylar had worked on her proposal in the shower and the

whole thing sounded a lot crazier out loud than it looked on paper. Everything looked better on paper. “So, I have a tiny little proposition for you, Redbeard...”

“Thank God you said something. Yes, I’m hungry. I’ll stop anywhere.”

“In a while. It’s something else.”

“Fire away.”

“Okay.” She flexed her fingers on the wheel. “Okay, I just want to preempt this by saying, you can decline. Obviously. No

hard feelings. If you say no, we’ll just move on and pretend like this never happened.”

He turned in the seat to face her. “Holy shit, I’m so intrigued right now.”

“It’s definitely intriguing. I’ll give it that.

” Deep breaths. In, out. “The objective of this week is not only to win the Page Stakes, but to make Madden notice me, right? Well, here’s the thing.

What if he actually does ? Notice me.” Needing something to do with her hands, she fiddled with the radio, flipping through various Sirius XM stations

and landing on some alternative. “I don’t know how to seal the deal. I’m not great at flirting. My, um... physical encounters

with guys have been kind of awkward. So even if we do manage to get Madden’s attention, I have no idea how to keep it.”

Robbie was quiet for a full ten seconds. “Okay, like, this is serious. You’re being serious. You don’t think you’re enough

to keep someone’s attention.”

He sounded so incredulous. Why? “I mean, I haven’t kept anyone’s attention before, so... the proof is in the pudding, isn’t

it?”

“Maybe you just haven’t liked any of the guys enough to bother. Have you thought about that?”

Did he sound a little pissed off? No. He was likely just irritated that she’d lured him on this trip under one pretense, then

sprung a totally new game plan. “Whatever the reason is that I’ve been single my whole life, I just want to make sure I’m

ready. Really ready. In case this ruse works. You know?”

“Where do I come in?”

“Well...” The temperature of Skylar’s skin started to elevate, her scalp prickling. “We’ve established that you like women

and women like you. Hooking up is pretty much your specialty.” In her periphery, she noticed Robbie’s shoulders slump ever

so slightly, but couldn’t imagine why. He’d bragged about this exact truth a matter of days ago. “Maybe you could teach me

to do the things... that women do to attract you?”

She glanced over to gauge his reaction, but found his expression blank. The only telling movement was the heavy rise and fall

of his chest. “I thought... I mean, I want to be better than how I’ve been, Rocket—”

“Oh, I hope you didn’t misunderstand me before,” she rushed to say.

“There’s no shame in having as many partners as you want, as long as they’re treated with respect, you know?

And, um... well. There’s also no reason all that experience and knowledge in your head couldn’t be harnessed for the greater good, right? ”

“Greater good,” Robbie repeated slowly. “Meaning...?”

“Meaning, if you say yes to... teaching me some moves, the best part is that you won’t— you don’t get attached. It’s guilt free.” Skylar gave a rueful laugh. “And come on, it’s for a worthy cause.”

Brow puckered, Robbie stared out at the highway, his white-knuckled fist gripping the strap of his seat belt. Uh-oh. Any second

now he’d ask to be taken home. “I strongly disagree with the way you’re making yourself sound like a charity case, Skylar,”

he said instead. “And I don’t... I don’t want you to have moves that other girls have.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know!” When she only raised an eyebrow at him, he visibly searched for a qualifying statement. “You have your own

moves. You just haven’t located them yet.”

“Let’s say I believe that. How am I going to locate them?”

Robbie swallowed loudly. “WWBD,” he said to himself. “WWBD.”

Skylar did a double take. “What does that mean?”

“What would Burgess do? I’m trying to imagine him in this situation.”

“And?”

“Turns out it only works for hockey. I got nothing.”

All right, clearly he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of teaching her how to operate around men. Drop it. Now. Pushing too hard on something like this would make her behavior as bad as Robbie’s that day at the baseball field. “Should

I stop at Dunkin’ or Denny’s?”

Now it was Robbie’s turn to do a double take. “That’s it? We’re done talking about this?”

“Yes. Easy as that.”

“Oh, sure, easy. Right.”

“Dunkin’ or—”

“What kind of moves are we talking about? Flirting and... what?”

Skylar took a very heavy gulp. Braced. “If you open my glove compartment, there’s a white leather planner. There’s a slip

of paper folded in the middle. It’s an... itinerary. Of potential lessons, so to speak.”

He almost broke the glove compartment getting it open. Seeing her beloved planner in Robbie’s hands gave her a warm, unexpected

flip in her stomach. No one had ever touched that planner, save her, and his long, blunt—and somewhat crooked—fingers looked

so masculine tracing along the softness of the spine, the breath caught in her throat.

What is wrong with you?

Skylar gripped the wheel and ordered her pulse back into its usual rhythm, but the sound of him unfolding the paper shot it

sky-high again.