Page 4 of Pitcher Perfect
“Holy shit,” she murmured, slowly climbing out of the car, hand in glove. “Those are the actual Bearcats, aren’t they? You weren’t lying.”
Elton barked a laugh. “You think I could come up with a lie that creative?”
“No, you’re right. You’re not that smart.”
Madden, clearly amused, tucked his tongue into his cheek and looked down. “The Page Stakes are going to be extra interesting this year.”
This was her opening. “Come on, Mad. Abandon ship while you still can and join Team Skylar. I’ve been fine-tuning my talent show performance—”
Elton elbowed her in the side, knocking her off-balance. “Quit poaching my teammate.”
“Offer’s on the table, big guy,” she whispered, patting Madden on the shoulder. Forcing herself not to squeeze or run her palm down the hills and valleys of his triceps. Had he been working out extra hard lately?
Madden laughed in that low, chugging way of his, then joined Elton picking his way across the ball field. As they walked, cardoors began slamming in the parking lot and soon enough, they were flanked on all sides by various baseball players carrying bats, some of whom Skylar recognized from her brother’s former squad at Brown. Others were unfamiliar. The ones she’d never met perused her curiously, as if wondering what the hell a girl was doing at this national summit of penis power.
She hid an eye roll.
Her pitching would speak for itself. It always did.
Usually.
The scouts from Brown passed on you, didn’t they?
Much to her parents’—die-hard Brown alums—everlasting disappointment.
Skylar cleared her throat of discomfort and notched her chin higher, a conversation taking place among the hockey players reaching her ears, carried on the morning air.
“You should have seen this girl I brought home last night. Legs up to her fucking eyeballs,” said one of them to the group. A mountainous redhead in a wrinkled shirt and the cockiest posture to ever exist. Chest puffed, chin up. A standing manspread. “I had to peel her off me this morning so I wouldn’t be late and she’s already blowing up my phone.”
“You going to call her later?”
“Only if she brings a friend next time. I like a little variety.”
The ensuing laughter soured Skylar’s stomach. Then and there, she decided to pitch as though life itself was hanging in the balance. A hockey player with a shaved head scoffed, shoving the offensive jackass and, along with the group, they simultaneously realized their opponents had arrived. The handful of Bearcats went from playful to intimidating in the blink of an eye, bristled jaws flexing, arms crossing over their huge pro athlete chests.
The one who’d been bragging about his exploits didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed over being caught talkingabout women like they were trading cards, though he visibly jolted upon realizing a lady was among them, his copper head ticking to one side, an interested gaze narrowing in on Skylar, a shaft of sunlight briefly highlighting the green moss hodgepodge of his eyes.
Fuck you, she mouthed at him.
A smile spread across his bearded face.
Oh. She couldn’twaitto strike this guy out.
This one’s for the girls.
Chapter Two
Target acquired.
The drop-dead gorgeous brunette was looking at him as though she’d like to vivisect him with a spoon, but, wow, that disdain only made her huge brown eyes sparkle. God, they were remarkable. Rich and deep, complementing the ponytail that blew in the wind. Hints of sunlight from the overcast sky washed over her fresh face and she had the look of someone who’d just woken up. Kind of messy and cranky.
Apparently, he found that combination... fucking adorable.
The rich quality of her skin appeared sunbaked, possibly from playing an outdoor sport. She wasn’t short by any means, in fact she was probably bordering on five foot nine, but positioned as she was in a sea of big, ugly baseball players, she was a princess that needed to be rescued.
Robbie Corrigan was just the man for the job.
“We win, you show up to our next home game in our jerseys,” his Bearcats teammate, best friend, and roommate Mailer was saying.
