Page 16 of Pitcher Perfect
Robbie carefully put the picture back in his wallet and waited.
Dug his fingertips into his thighs as she started to speak. “I—”
The door of the coffee shop flew open. “Sky, let’s go,” Elton barked from the entrance. “Time’s up.”
She stood on reflex, then seemed annoyed about it.
Robbie stood, too, intending to walk her to the car, no matter which decision she made. Wanting every last second, if this was going to be the final time he saw her.
“Hey,” he started, stepping back so she could lead the way to the door—
“Look.” She wet her lips, looking up at Robbie. Paused for a five count, as if trying to read his mind, then whispered, “Maybe this is the worst thing I’ve ever agreed to, but I’m in.” She snuck a peek at his lips. “Might as well lay the groundwork now, right?”
Robbie heard the words coming out of her mouth, but he was still somehow completely caught off guard when Skylar fisted the front of his fleece and drew him down for a kiss. A quick press of warm, plush lips against his own, a moment of lingering where she searched his eyes, tick, tick, tick, followed by her elevating onto her tiptoes to kiss him more fully... except this time he was ready. Barely, thanks to his fucking heart drumming in his ears, but he managed to cup the back of her head and savor the second lock of their mouths, the featherlight alignment of herathlete’s body against his, the dizzying waft of soap and orange juice, the twitch and rise of his dick, the sifting of his fingers through her hair, the levitation of his body into the sky—
She sank her teeth into his bottom lip and tugged, giving him a warning look.
“If you mess this up, I will messyouup.”
“Understood,” he managed, winded.
“I’ll be in touch.”
With that, she turned and sauntered out of the shop, right past her bewildered brother, who was splitting his shock between Skylar and Robbie, but Robbie was reeling too severely to gloat for once in his life. All he could do was stare at Skylar’s retreating form and attempt to ground himself, until Elton finally allowed the door to swing closed, street sounds cutting off abruptly, leaving only the pounding of Robbie’s pulse.
“What a woman,” Robbie whispered, rubbing the center of his chest.
He’d just signed himself up for hell.
But Skylar? She was worth it.
Chapter Six
“You’re what?”
“You heard me, Dina.”
“Did I?” Skylar’s pitching coach stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the net where she’d been aiming. “Because I think you just told me you’re taking a fake boyfriend to your parents’ house for a week.”
Skylar wouldn’t waste time living in regret over telling Dina what had happened that morning at Café Lil Italy. There were no secrets between a girl and her pitching coach. Was she a member of the team? Yes. Her position tended to keep her isolated a lot of the time, however. During games, while everyone was in the dugout, she was either on the mound or in the bullpen. At practice, like now, she trained on a different section of the field, had her own coach, her own game schedule and recovery techniques.
Dina, a former all-American collegiate pitcher in her own right, stood at an impressive six foot two, the messy bun at the top of her head giving her those final two inches, and her ability to spit from the mound into a bucket at home plate was her claim to fame—and rightly so.
“Because I’ve met your parents, Sky, and they’re too quick on the uptake to fall for something like that. They’re going to see through you a mile away.”
Dina made a good point.
An excellent point.
One Skylar hadn’t taken into enough consideration. She might be able to fool her parents for an afternoon, but for a whole-assweek? If she’d stopped to think about everything this ruse would entail, she would have said no. She and Robbie—whom she barely knew!—would have to share a bedroom. They’d have to hold hands and kiss. Tell stories about each other. Make goo-goo eyes.
God, she’d have tosmileat him. Laugh at his jokes.
Relying on her next pitch to keep her from spiraling, Skylar leaned forward, took a centering breath, locked in on the strike zone, led hard with her left leg, and let fly, sending the late-breaking rise ball into the back of the net... which wasn’t half as satisfying as listening to the ball hit Madden’s glove.
Madden.
The reason she’d agreed to this totally unethical scheme.
