Pitcher Perfect, page 24
She raised a brow. “Offensive how?”
“Uh.” He brought her tightly held hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “Don’t worry about it.”
Skylar decided to let that mystery go unsolved for now. Her knees were still weak from what they’d done in the forest. Maybe when an orgasm was so intense it rendered a woman punch-drunk, she deserved a certain leniency. “You better answer the call.”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, brought the phone to his ear. “Hey, Hauer.”
Skylar studied Robbie while he listened intently to whatever was being said on the other end of the line. Whatever it was, he didn’t seem happy about it, although his body language was more resigned than angry. Then and there, she decided that whatever the call was about, she wouldn’t let it disrupt this perfect state of . . . togetherness. Perhaps words spoken in the heat of the moment couldn’t be deemed official, but it seemed like they were really doing this. They were on their way to being a couple, an outcome she couldn’t have foreseen in her wildest imagination.
Robbie and Skylar.
Skylar and Robbie.
Together for real?
Yes, it seemed so, but . . . they were far removed from Boston this week. She couldn’t help but hold on to some trepidation that they could make this work once they returned to real life, but she was there to try, dammit. She was there to give it her everything, because she couldn’t envision a world where they went back to Boston and didn’t see each other. Being near Robbie, talking to him, feeling his skin on her skin had fast become a given. He was well worth fighting the doubt. They were worth it. The thought of living a totally separate life from him after this week made her wet clothes feel colder. Icier.
Can’t do it.
Even with the newfound confidence she’d earned this week throughout the Page Stakes, their family breakthrough, and her private lessons in love with Robbie, there was still the tiniest voice in the back of her head making her question how long she would be enough. Old hang-ups were hard to break.
Skylar shook herself free of the conflicting thoughts when Robbie hung up the phone. “Bad news. Coach called a last-minute practice tonight. Apparently, he’s been living in the offices watching game tapes on the Oilers and he’s mounting a new strategy. He wants us on the ice by seven.”
“Meaning you’d need to leave . . .” She went up on her toes to read the time off the screen of Robbie’s phone. “Like, now.”
“Like, now.” He let his head fall back. “No, Rocket. The talent show.”
Having seen these regrets coming, she was already shaking her head. “Stop. We’ll reschedule it or compete another time. You can’t miss practice. Not right before playoffs.” Ignoring the useless disappointment in her middle, she hooked her arm through the crook of his elbow and tugged him toward the house. “Come on, you can borrow my car again. I’ll put together some snacks for the drive while you pack up.”
“Who knows me like you?” She tossed him up a smile, but it dimmed when she found him looking down at her with unfiltered intensity. “You’re not even going to make me feel guilty about leaving, are you?”
Surprise slowed her steps. “What? No. Of course not.” Following instinct, she leaned in and kissed the valley between his pecs, which, thanks to his sodden clothing, were prominently displayed. If only the talent show were a wet T-shirt contest. They’d win by a landslide. “You play a sport. Competitively. Inconvenience . . . and FOMO is part of the deal. That’s how we got to where we are. We missed stuff in order to practice.”
“Missing stuff that involves you is different.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Redbeard.” Ignoring the subtle weight of uncertainty on her chest, Skylar continued. “If we’re going to . . . to do this . . . us . . .”
Robbie’s jaw flexed. “Oh, we’re doing us.”
“Okay, well, we’re going to have scheduling conflicts. Probably a lot of them. Let’s start being understanding about it now.”
“Skylar.” He seemed at a loss for words, tucking the same strands of hair behind her ear over and over, even when they had been well and truly tucked. “I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that I’m fucking crazy about you.”
“You have—”
He cut her off with a hard kiss. “It bears repeating,” he said against her mouth.
“Could you two kindly stop Frenching in the driveway?” Elton complained on his way down the front steps, doing a double take when he saw their disheveled state. “How did you guys spend the day? Re-creating scenes from The Notebook?”
“Shut up, Elton,” Robbie and Skylar said simultaneously.
Her brother only laughed. “Who’s ready to get their asses handed to them in the family talent show? You won’t see mine coming.”
“Magic tricks?” Skylar drawled.
Elton gave her a death stare. “You ruined it. Happy now?”
“Obscenely.” She could still feel Robbie staring at her profile. “Robbie got called back to Boston for a late practice, so we’ll have to postpone.”
“Oh shit.” Despite the rocky start he’d gotten off to with Robbie, her brother couldn’t hide his disappointment. “Sorry, man, that sucks.” He looked at his watch. “Traffic gets heavy around . . . never mind, it’s always heavy in Boston.”
“Truth.” Robbie reached out and slapped Elton on the shoulder. “Sorry to leave when the competition is heating up. On the bright side, this gives you an extra day to work on your magic tricks.”
“Let’s hope he’s going to make himself disappear,” Skylar teased.
Robbie chuckled, while Elton gave her a sour look.
“Listen, your sister is coming to my home game on Thursday next week. I’ll try and hook you up for the next one.” Robbie shrugged. “If you want to watch how a real sport is played.”
“Hilarious.” Elton rolled a grudging shoulder. “Yeah, fine, I guess I can suffer through it.” He sighed. “I’ll go break the news to Mom and Dad about the talent show. Pretty sure I overheard them practicing a reenactment from their favorite episode of Blue Bloods, so don’t cry too hard over missing that.”
The men engaged in some kind of ritualistic backslapping routine that Skylar interpreted as a display of friendship, but she couldn’t be sure. A minute later, she followed Robbie into the house, parting ways in the hallway so he could grab his things while she quickly put together a chicken salad wrap and a bag of multigrain chips, tucking the road meal in a reusable tote bag and waiting for him in the kitchen, still aglow from . . . everything. The incredible day they’d spent together. Robbie’s truce with Elton. The fact that she had plans to see him again.
Skylar’s phone vibrated in her pocket, pulling her from her daze.
A text from Eve had her sitting up straighter. Finally.
Eve: Hey. Could I bring the kids over for a while later?
Skylar let out a breath she’d been holding since the night at the Gilded Garden.
Skylar: Yes. Please come now for dinner.
Eve: We can’t stay too long 😔 I’m working tonight. But I don’t want to miss you before you go back to Boston. I’m sorry I didn’t have more time, Skylar.
Skylar: Don’t apologize. We’ll talk when I see you. Fair warning, my parents will be battling the whole time to come out on top as the kids’ favorite.
Eve: Spoiler: It’s whoever has the candy.
Skylar: Noted. See you soon.
Robbie emerged from the hallway—regrettably, in dry clothing—with his duffel strap over one shoulder, his gaze seeking her out at the kitchen table, expression warming. “Hey, Rocket.”
“Hey, Redbeard.”
“Walk me out?”
“Sure.” She stood and he held up his left arm, wordlessly inviting her beneath it and she went, her shoulders settling into the warm nook of his body like she could never belong anywhere else. “But you should know, when you ask a pitcher to walk you, it has a totally different meaning.”
His body shook with a quiet laugh. “I have an entirely new language to learn.”
She kissed his shoulder, looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Maybe this time, I’ll tutor you in something. Do you think you’ll be as good a student as I was?”
He made a sound that was part pain, part amusement. “See, this is why we’re going to cancel dates. You going around saying shit like that. Now I’m seeing you dressed like a librarian, drilling me on softball terminology.” He leaned down and caught her mouth in a kiss. “How am I supposed to drive?”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“You’re right, I’m not.” They simultaneously hip-bumped each other.
They proceeded down the steps, stopping at the trunk of her car, Robbie popping it open and tossing in his bag. Gathering her back into his arms. “I’ll call you tonight.”
“Okay.” Skylar closed her eyes as he kissed her forehead. “Eve is coming over. She’s bringing the kids.”
He pulled back quickly, brows aloft, and she could see he simply knew. During one of their many conversations in town that morning, she’d filled Robbie in on the fraught scene at the Gilded Garden and how the exchange had ended with the discovery that Eve was now caring for her sister’s twins—although, for some reason, Skylar had left out the fact that Madden had also been there. That they’d shared a drink together. Skylar ignored the stab of guilt now, focusing on Robbie’s sympathetic expression. He knew how much it meant that Eve had finally reached out. That they were going to see each other. “I’m so glad, Skylar. You’ll let me know how it goes?”
She nodded, masking how shaky she felt over his imminent departure. “Drive safe.”
Robbie pulled her into a bear hug and she gave in to the urge to wrap her arms around his waist, absorb the scent and size and strength of him. “Believe me, I’ll be driving safer than ever from now on,” he said.
A few minutes later, as she watched her car turn right at the end of the driveway, she was more certain than she’d ever been that her relationship with Robbie had the potential to be solid. But it wouldn’t be long before she found a weak spot.
She never expected to be responsible for it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Eve dropped onto the couch beside Skylar, visibly less stressed than when she arrived, probably because Douglas and Vivica had turned the kitchen into one giant art project station, several finger paintings already hanging on a line above the sink. In other words, the high-energy kids were occupied, and she was free to sip the after-dinner coffee in her hands.
Now that they were alone, Skylar was eager to address the elephant in the room and find out what had led to Eve’s raising her sister’s kids, but she knew from experience that Eve would drive the conversation around the block until she felt like parking, so she stayed silent and let Eve dictate the starting point.
“They’re usually not so rambunctious, I swear,” Eve said, sipping her coffee, her French manicure resting against the porcelain mug, the ends of her long, wavy blond hair curled against the curve of her waist. “They’re probably just so happy to be somewhere besides my apartment or the office at the lounge.”
“Are they in school?”
“Just registered them for pre-K at Cumberland Elementary. They’ll be joining late, but it seemed necessary. I don’t think they’ve been social with anyone but each other.” A groove appeared on her forehead. “I’ve only made my way through one parenting book, but I know they need to be around other kids.”
“I think if you’ve read an entire parenting book, you’re already doing great.”
Gratitude flickered in her eyes. “Thanks.”
“Did your sister have them in any kind of daycare, or . . .”
“I didn’t have a chance to ask.” Eve smiled and shifted her position, a sure sign she was going to change the subject. “Madden mentioned you’ve been seeing someone. A hockey player? Serious enough to introduce to Doug and Viv? I thought he’d be here—”
As if the very mention of Madden’s name had summoned him through the door, the Irishman was suddenly ducking beneath the frame of the entryway, his countenance carved from stone, as usual. He ceased to move when he saw Eve sitting on the couch, obviously surprised she’d finally decided to pay the Pages a visit. Eve stared at the floor, her knuckles white from being locked around the coffee mug.
Really? These two had one disagreement and stopped talking? If the Pages did that, no one would speak ever again.
“Do you want me to mediate this, or . . .” Skylar murmured out of the side of her mouth.
“No.” Eve shook her head, turning to face Skylar more fully. Setting down her mug rather shakily. “No—and you’re totally avoiding my question.”
“I’m not!”
“Hockey player. Go.”
Skylar felt parts of her heat that had no business warming up in the family living room. “Robbie. Corrigan. He plays for the Bearcats? Don’t ask me what position—I’ve yet to learn anything about the sport, but he’s . . .” Oh wow, her pulse was skipping like a stone going across a glassy pond. “He’s going to teach me.”
Eve studied her with a half smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush in my life the way you’re doing right now.”
“I guess you’re forgetting the time I accidentally pantsed myself in gym class.” Flustered over her best friend’s scrutiny, Skylar gathered her hair into a ponytail, using the elastic on her wrist to secure it. “Robbie is . . . I didn’t expect him.”
“We never do, right?” After a beat, Eve laughed off what had seemed like a serious statement. “So, Robbie Corrigan.” Eve’s black satin envelope clutch sat nearby on the coffee table and she reached into it now, her movements ever graceful, taking out her phone. “Be honest. How much internet stalking have you done?”
“Oh, um. None?”
“I envy your willpower.”
Skylar watched with growing pressure in her throat as Eve punched Robbie’s name into Google and hit search, before she could protest. Everything that came up would probably be hockey related. No need for this urge to bat the phone out of her friend’s hand or rush to explain . . . what? That she was already aware of Robbie’s lifestyle?
Across the room, Madden and Elton had taken a seat at the dining room table across from each other, frosty bottles of beer in their hands, the wrinkles of tension between them evident. She tried to focus on that instead of Eve’s thumb scrolling, wondering what she could do to help Elton. After all, she had a lot of experience feeling inadequate, especially when it came to sports. His time would come—
Eve darkened her phone and set it down in her lap. “How is the competition going? What sort of ass kicking did Doug and Viv serve up this year?”
“Wait.” Skylar pointed at Eve’s phone. “You’re not going to say anything about the search results?”
“He’s very handsome. And a redhead. Spicy.”
“That’s it?”
Eve opened her mouth, closed it. Reached for her coffee but didn’t take a sip. “I shouldn’t have googled him. But I mean, come on. He’s a public figure. Google anyone with a little fame these days and you’ll find a reason the internet hates him.”
Static popped in Skylar’s ears, her arms tingling all the way to her fingertips. “Just tell me what you saw. I probably already know. He’s kind of . . . a partier. But he’s going to . . .”
Lord.
But he’s going to change.
She almost said that out loud.
“I guess you have to meet him to understand,” Skylar finished, lamely. “He’s great. He saved me from drowning yesterday, for god’s sake.”
Eve’s spine snapped straight. “He what? You almost drowned?”
“Just show me the phone,” she blurted.
“Skylar.”
“Eve.”
“What’s going on over there?” Elton called.
Madden frowned over a long pull of his beer, his scrutiny directed at Eve, as was Skylar’s.
Skylar and Eve dove for the phone at the same time—and she had to hand it to the blonde, she was quick; but she hadn’t grown up in a family of freakishly competitive athletes. It was no contest. Skylar had the phone in her hand in a blink.
“What’s your password?”
“I’m not trying to keep what I found quiet,” Eve strangle-whispered just for Skylar’s ears. “I just wanted to show you later when you’re alone and you can process it without everyone watching. Maybe you know about it already.”
“Know about what?”
Eve sighed, hesitated, then punched in her four-digit password, lighting up the screen and revealing a blue-and-white list of search engine results. “There’s a website where women share bad experiences with men, okay? It started off as a way to help women protect one another from violence, which we shouldn’t have to take into our own hands, but here we are. There is also a fair amount of ex bashing, so it’s not perfect. That seems to be what women are doing with Robbie, although . . . he appears to be an ex-boyfriend to no one. It never gets that far.” Eve tapped through a few screens. “There’s a whole page dedicated to him.”
“Dedicated to who?” Elton wanted to know. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” Eve and Skylar shouted back without taking their eyes off the phone.
Even though Skylar desperately wanted to take the device and throw it in the lake.
Oh . . . my God.
Her eyes skimmed over rows of ugly words and phrases. Serial player. Don’t trust a word out of his mouth. Manwhore. Don’t get played.
Forgot my name after we slept together. Twice.
Holds weekly whipped cream bikini parties.
The worst part was the picture.
Robbie at what appeared to be a nightclub with two beautiful women on his lap, a third one pouring a shot of tequila directly into his mouth.
It was like someone had taken a shovel and scooped everything out of her chest in one go. Skylar could only hand the phone back with numb fingers and try to keep her features schooled, not sure if she should be more embarrassed or devastated. It was one thing to know Robbie lived an unapologetic bachelor lifestyle up until a couple weeks ago . . . and quite another to see it in vivid color on the internet. There was nothing wrong with being sexually active. That was his choice. But seeing the images, the words on the screen, only reminded her of how he’d bragged about his conquests. How content he’d seemed pursuing one-night stands, organizing threesomes on a whim. Could he be happy and fulfilled without those things?
