Page 9 of Pitcher Perfect
“Take his head off already, Sky,” complained Elton.
Redbeard was undeterred. “Permission to approach the mound, Your Honor.”
Skylar came very close to launching a pitch into the man’s eye socket. This whole situation was infuriating, right down to the sexism and entitlement. Could she handle herself? Yes. That didn’t mean she should be required to. Odds were, he wouldn’t be giving this same flirtatious treatment to a male pitcher, would he? Singling him out in front of everyone for his own amusement?
If it wasn’t for Madden standing up and slowly removing his catcher’s mask, appearing on the verge of decking Redbeard, she would have whittled the hockey player down to size in front of both teams and gotten on with her day. But her pulse started to race with reckless joy at the possibility that Madden was jealous. Over her.
Could he be? Like,actually, actually?
Hope almost caused her to float.
Was giving this insufferable hockey player the time of day worth getting Madden’s attention? After years of pining in silence?
Bet your butt.
“Permission granted to approach the mound,” she blurted, finding her voice.
“What?” Elton sputtered behind her. “Skylar, I have an appointment at the groomer’s this afternoon. Don’t drag this out.”
“For you or the dog?” she hissed back at her brother.
“Very funny.”
“Give me one second!”
When she turned back around, Redbeard was standing directly in front of her, his shaggy hair waving in the wind, that mouth in a lopsided smile. Tall and thick as one of the trees sheused to climb in her backyard during the summer. And all right, fine, he was... handsome. Very handsome. In a shit-eating, takes-nothing-seriously jock kind of way.
Not even close to her type. Light-years away.
But when she leaned casually to one side and found Madden glaring at them, a new game plan started to take shape. Instead of waiting for Madden to notice her, maybe she’d give him a tiny nudge, even if allowing this douche to get away with his antics was irritating, to say the least.
“What is the side bet?” Skylar tilted her head back to meet his eyes—a rarity for her at five nine, but this guy had to be over six foot four. “Be quick.”
“Nice to meet you, too. I’m Robbie.”
“I didn’t say it was nice to meet you,” she scoffed. “Name the terms.”
Robbie, apparently, narrowed his gaze, giving the briefest of looks back over his shoulder. “Why are you suddenly humoring me?”
“Maybe I like to gamble.”
His eyes tracked down to where the ball was fisted in her grip. Stayed there a beat. When he met her gaze again, he was a hint more serious than before, giving her a glimpse of what he might be like in a hockey game. Focused, driven, competitive. “You’ve got a whole operation going on here and you don’t like anything or anyone getting in the way of it. Definitely not the gambling type.”
“Good baseball players can’t be gamblers? Ever heard of Pete Rose?”
An appreciative spark lit his moss-green eyes. “Fair point.” He studied her for a beat longer, before shifting to the opposite foot. “If I make it on base, you let me take you out for coffee after the game.”
Skylar pretended to choke. “After what I heard you say about last night’s date? No way. I’m not interested in being your next one-night stand.” Insecurity got the better of her within a split second. “Not that... you’d want that. With me. I wasn’t implying you were interested like that.”He looks so confused. Shut up.“Anyway, I don’t even drink coffee, I drink orange juice.”
“Okay, Tom Brady,” he said slowly. “I’m sure we can manage to track down some OJ. Are you saying yes to the bet?”
She was already regretting this. Why not stick to the original plan and wait for that magical future moment when Madden eventually saw what was right in front of him?
So what if it took another decade?
A sad trombone slide came from the direction of the parking lot.
Or possibly her mind.
