Page 47 of Pitcher Perfect
Instead of sitting himself on the other side, he scooted in right next to her, his big, warm body crowding her into the wall, that arm back around her shoulders.
At first Skylar was too stunned by how nice it felt to be held to say anything, but when the hostess sailed off and they were left alone, she found her voice.
“I’m far from a dating expert, but I don’t think this is how people sit on a date. This isn’t even how acoupleusually sits on a date.”
“Really? This is how I’d sit with you if we were a couple.”
“I’m not practicing to be in a couple.”
A muscle hopped in his cheek—a total contradiction to the humor in his eyes. “Aren’t you?”
Skylar’s mouth snapped shut. He had a point.
The waiter chose that moment to arrive with a breadbasket and Skylar stared at the contents, trying to imagine sitting in a restaurant with Madden’s arm around her. Would he be comfortable with public displays of affection? No. She didn’t think so. Still, maybe with the right girl, he wouldn’t mind. And shewasthe right girl for him.
The zip of excitement Skylar typically experienced over a Madden daydream didn’t land quite as hard as it usually did. There was an explanation, though. Robbie took up so much room, his hard body and big mouth such a distracting presence, how could she concentrate on anything else?
He’d already housed four pieces of bread in the time it took her to articulate her thoughts.
“Do you want any?” he asked, midchew.
“No, thanks. I don’t want to lose a hand.”
“Sorry, I just need to take the edge off. Your mom served fruit salad for lunch, Skylar. In my world, fruit is a garnish.” He dragged the final slice of brown bread through the tab of butter and swallowed it whole. “Okay. I’m ready for dating practice.”
Skylar squared her shoulders, ready to take the lesson seriously. When and where else would she get an opportunity like this with someone so experienced? “Okay, so... we make small talk, right? How is this different from flirting?”
“For one, it’s way harder,” Robbie started. “Because you’re trying to eat and be cute at the same time.”
“Is that the goal?” She raised a brow. “To be cute?”
His gaze ran an appreciative lap around her face. “You’ve already got the cute part covered,” he said, gruffly. “Let’s focus on small talk.”
Don’t fidget because he called you cute. He probably calls a multitude of women cute on a weekly basis.“So, um.” Skylar turned slightly in hisembrace, her right knee grazing his left one, pressing and staying. Touching equaled flirting, right? He’d taught her that. “You’ve met my zany family. Tell me about yours. Tell me about... you.”
“Me,” he repeated, stroking his beard, as though mentally pinpointing where to start. “I’m from—”
“Where did your phobia of heights come from?”
He choked on a sound. “Don’t look now, but you might have accidentally turned off the small talk highway.”
“Sorry.” Her face flamed. “I’m paying attention. I am. It’s also in the back of my mind that we have to figure out how we’re going to win tomorrow when you might not be able to climb.”
“Oh, Idefinitelywon’t be able to climb.”
It was very easy to see he hated disappointing her. The lines around his mouth were tight and he was no longer making eye contact. Which was why she refused to give him a hard time about it. Or poke fun. “Your phobia is that bad?”
“Afraid so, Rocket.”
She ducked down until he had no choice but to look at her. “Do you want to tell me where it came from?”
Tension played itself out in the muscles of his powerful arm, which he still had draped along her shoulders. “It’s not some traumatic story or anything—” He let a slow exhale seep out of him, grief dancing briefly in the mossy depths of his eyes. “It just reminds me of my grandfather.”
Skylar allowed her surprise to settle. “Okay. How?”
He cleared his throat. “He used to take me to Sands Point Preserve. It’s this spot on Long Island with hiking trails. It’s on the coast and there’s this small beach below the cliffs where we’d fly kites. Constantly. When my grandfather was younger, he competed in competitions all over the island, so he had this serious love of kites. One of the last times we flew them together, his got hung up in a tree that was...” He used his hand to demonstratean angle. “Sort of growing out of the side of the cliff. His favorite yellow box kite got stuck in the branches, so I went up to get it. And, Jesus, I couldn’t do it. As soon as I got up there and saw the ground below, I got dizzy and nauseous. Sweaty palms, hyperventilating.”
“Wow.”
