Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“Robbie left for practice tonight, so?”
A little chisel hammered her in the throat. “Yes. Playoffs start next week, so they’re mostly resting, but not enough to lose their conditioning.”
Madden took a thoughtful sip of his pint, that characteristic furrow locked to his brow. “Would you say things are going well between the two of you?”
Skylar’s pulse started to race, but she couldn’t tell why. Because Madden was showing interest in her love life and finally seeing her as an adult? Or because her relationship with Robbie was a fabrication and she’d have to lie? “I don’t . . . know, actually,” she said, finding she spoke the truth. “How did it seem to you?”
It seemed to take him an hour to respond, and she couldn’t help but compare Madden’s thoughtful manner to Robbie’s instantaneous quips. “Sure, isn’t it natural for me to feel protective of you, Skylar? I’ve known you years. And this Robbie . . .” He paused. “The sports world is small and in Boston, it’s even smaller. People talk. Men talk. I’m sorry, but Robbie has something of a reputation. With women.”
Skylar already knew that. Hearing it out loud, knowing Robbie’s playerhood was a definitive fact, lined her stomach with lead, nonetheless. “Yes, I’m aware.”
Madden nodded, apparently satisfied. “I couldn’t let it pass without saying something to you. You’re not likely to listen to Elton.” Ever so briefly, his eyes twinkled. “For good reason. He can be a right arse, as you well know.”
A laugh bloomed in her throat. Suddenly, there she was, drinking alcohol with this devastatingly hot and mysterious man, in a smoky burlesque club. It was an odd moment of clarity—oh, I’m truly an adult—that she probably should have experienced long before now, considering she’d been through almost four years of college. But still. This was a sex situation. A situation where the right moves could lead to sex. With Madden.
The possibility flooded her with panic.
Too fast. This is moving too fast.
She hadn’t even finished her lessons with Robbie.
Dammit, Robbie. Are you coming back?
“There was something else I wanted to speak with you about, Skylar,” Madden said, cutting the distance between them in half. Before she could stop herself, she twisted forward in her seat so she wouldn’t be facing him and drained half of her vodka tonic. Why are you wasting this opportunity, you clown? “It’s somewhat delicate . . .”
I’ve finally realized I’m in love with you. That’s what he was going to say.
“I’m going to run to the ladies’ room—”
“I’ve been brought up to professional level. I’m going to catch for the Yankees.”
Skylar sucked in a breath.
Surprise, elation, and a sense of melancholy crammed into her throat, all at once, and she found herself blinking back a layer of shocked tears. “What?” Without overthinking the impulse, she hopped off her chair and wrapped both arms around him. “Oh my God. Congratulations. Oh my God!”
He cleared his throat. Patted her gently on the back. “Caught a scout’s eye while training for triple A and . . . well, it’s the perfect storm of the New York catcher getting injured and them verging on busting the salary cap. They needed someone moderately inexpensive, but good.”
“That’s amazing. Amazing!” Skylar released him, only to shove him full in the chest. “The fucking Yankees, though? Seriously?”
A rich laugh came tumbling out of him. “I wasn’t given much choice in the matter.”
“Still,” she said, shivering. “Don’t expect me to wear pinstripes at your games.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Gradually, his amusement faded. “Elton doesn’t know yet. I’m worried he’s going to feel . . .”
“Left behind,” she finished, his reluctance to celebrate finally registering.
“Yeah. Exactly that.”
Skylar deflated slightly under the weight of understanding. She had a love-hate relationship with her brother. They would forever fight like siblings. Competitive ones, at that. And she knew Elton would most likely see Madden’s success as a negative reflection of himself. It would be brief, though. She had enough faith in him to know that. “He’ll beat himself up for not being in stride with you, like always. But one day, he’ll realize this is what motivated him to be better. And long before that, he’ll put aside his own shit and support you. Give him a chance. He’s only an ass, like, ninety-two percent of the time.”
Tension slowly bled from Madden’s face as she spoke. “I can’t wait to see what you do with your talent, Skylar. You were always impressive as a pitcher, but you’re . . . surprising as a person, too.”
What did that mean?
And why did she just want to take it at face value and move on, instead of dissecting every syllable and equating his sentiments to love, the way she did before?
“Thank you,” she whispered, feeling kind of dizzy. Sad. Adrift.
Madden tilted his head and started to say something but was interrupted by the crackle of a PA system. “Ladies and gentlemen,” purred a low voice, the music lifting in volume, a spotlight appearing in a perfect circle in the center of the stage. “You’re in for a rare treat. Performing tonight for the first time, the mistress of the Gilded Garden herself. Put your hands together for the electrifying Eve.”