Page 34 of Pitcher Perfect
“Yes, ma’am.”
Vivica high-fived her husband. “That’s what I thought.”
These people were intense.
Skylar turned to face Robbie, dropping her voice to a whisper. “We should probably get to bed early tonight.”
Spend alone time with Skylar, no Madden in sight?
“Sign me up.”
She started to back toward the house, holding the laminated challenge to her chest, her bravado so bold, scholars would write odes in its honor one day. “One last thing,” she called to her family. “We’re changing our team name to Rocket and Redbeard.”
Elton doubled over and made a retching sound.
Robbie and Skylar fist-bumped on their way into the house.
“Come on.” They walked side by side down the hallway toward her bedroom. “The longer we spend around them, the more they’ll get in our heads.”
“You’re right,” Robbie said. “We need some team bonding time. I’ve got just the thing.”
“No.”
“It was worth a shot.”
Chapter Eleven
Shirtless men didn’t faze Skylar. Usually.
She’d grown up with a brother who’d stumbled into the kitchen in his boxers most mornings, plunging his paw into the closest cereal box. His friends were always swimming in their backyard, oftentimes in very translucent underwear, not to mention pantsing each other every chance they got. She’d seen a lot of shrinkage in her day. Lots of butts. A bare chest didn’t even rate. Usually.
Robbie Corrigan, professional hockey player, didn’t have just any chest.
Or abdomen.
Or arms.
Nothing about him was typical.
He was a thick, stacked, red-bearded giant. In her bedroom.
And she was watching him pull on sleep sweatpants in the mirror of her vanity when her back was supposed to be turned.
Obviously, she’d had a lot of doubts about their scheme to get Madden to notice her—and she still did. Tonight at the cookout, however, she hadn’t expected to feel so much like a united front. As much as she loved and adored Eve, Skylar inevitably felt like the odd one out at the Page Stakes every year. The underdog. The pest. The one who hadn’t quite lived up to the lofty expectations set forth by her overachiever family. Robbie talked a lot of shit, had an overwhelming amount of confidence, and didn’tseem at all fazed by his sudden entrée into their zany family competition.
Something about his ability to roll with the punches? It allowed her to stress less and focus more. It was... not awful.
Maybehewasn’t awful.
Maybe they even had a chance to win?
“What are you thinking about so hard over there, Rocket?”
Her chin jerked up to find him watching her in the vanity mirror, those superhuman hands perched on his hips, chest still blessedly bare. She could appreciate him objectively, right? One athlete to another. He kept himself in peak physical condition.
Good for him.
Good for half the women in Boston, too.
