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)
She’d run out of time.
“Um.” Skylar closed her planner. “I guess you’re wondering where Robbie is. I might . . . well, I might have some unfortunate news about that, but I’m not complaining. Okay? I can compete by mysel—”
The screen door of the house opened and in walked Robbie.
In a Boston University T-shirt.
Disbelief streaked through Skylar, followed by relief. Gratitude.
Warmth. It swept downward from the crown of her head to her feet.
“Good morning, you family full of lunatics,” Robbie said conversationally, approaching the table. So casual, but his eyes were locked on Skylar, as if trying to get a read. “Miss me?”
“No,” Elton responded, without his usual venom. He was looking at Robbie’s shirt, his forehead puckered in thought. Skylar was staring at it, too, with a growing knot in her jugular, her hands dropping into her lap and curling into fists. Silently as possible, she attempted to take a giant breath but found it difficult to draw air. In a house filled with Brown paraphernalia, here was Robbie rocking BU merch, her school being represented for the very first time in this home. She’d never even worn anything from BU around her parents, except for her softball uniform, wanting to avoid reminders of their disappointment.
“Nice shirt,” Madden said, lips quirked behind his folded hands, though his tone was hard to read. Was that approval or sarcasm?
“Thanks.” Until now, Skylar hadn’t noticed the stack of plastic-wrapped shirts Robbie carried under his arm, but when he started dealing them around the table like blackjack cards, Skylar officially couldn’t breathe. “I bought one for everybody.”
“Oh.” Her parents traded a startled look. “We’re—”
“Big Brown fans. Which is cool, but there are no rules against supporting two teams, right? I mean exceptions have to be made when your kid is the star pitcher. You going to eat that, Rocket?” Before Skylar knew what was happening, Robbie scooped her off the wooden bench, sat down, and settled her sideways in his lap, proceeding to down her entire bowl of overnight oats in exactly four bites.
In just thirty seconds, her world turned itself upside down.
Or right side up?
No idea.
Before Robbie walked into the house, she’d been exposed and unsteady and lonely, ready to reveal a weakness to people who didn’t tolerate them, already at her usual deficit of Didn’t get into Brown. Half a minute later, there she sat in the sun, her entire body surrounded in warmth and support, reassured as she watched Robbie unapologetically eat the remainder of everyone’s meals. He’d stunned them into silence.
He’d stunned Skylar.
Frankly, at that moment, she didn’t care if he’d slept with half of Boston last night.
She laid her head on Robbie’s shoulder and closed her eyes, anyway.
“Did you already get your pitching in this morning?” he asked, rubbing the middle of her back. As if no one was watching. As if they were the only two people at the table.
“Yes.” Skylar studied him a little more closely. “Is that a black eye?”
He hummed. “My last one was beginning to fade. Had to get a replacement.”
“I’ll be happy to replace it next time,” Elton voiced from across the table. “But, uh . . . welcome back. I guess. I wasn’t looking forward to watching my sister try and swim both legs of the race.”
“Today’s challenge is swimming? And you’ve got a Long Island kid on your team?” Robbie winked down at Skylar. “It’s in the bag.”
It was probably better they didn’t have any time alone between breakfast and the hike to the lake for the swimming challenge. While Skylar helped clean up breakfast and tried to pretend her hands weren’t shaking, Robbie quickly changed into swim trunks in her bedroom. Elton and her parents headed outside, Madden lingering by the sink, looking like he wanted to speak with her. Yet all she could do was watch her bedroom door, waiting for Robbie to emerge. Robbie, who’d definitely been with other women last night—nay, every night of his proud bachelor life . . . and still, she could only wonder if they would continue her lessons or if he’d forgotten about them in a blur of beautiful babes.
Skylar shook herself.
Focused on Madden.
Stop getting distracted from your goal.
“Um . . .” She folded up the dish towel in her hands. “Why didn’t you want to tell them about the Yankees? It’s good news, Mads.”
“Right. Yes, ’course it is. I will share it, eventually.” He coughed into his fist. “Did a lot of thinking last night, though, and I’m wondering, do you think it’s an opportunity to help Eve—”
“Ready to go,” Robbie said, entering the kitchen the way a runner slides into home base, wrapping an arm around Skylar’s waist and hauling her up against him, bending her backward slightly and planting a kiss on her mouth. Mere inches from Madden. And that’s what she should have been thinking about. Madden’s reaction. Not the delightful friction of Robbie’s beard on her chin. The way he could lift her so effortlessly onto her toes and didn’t hesitate to be physical with her. So confident she’d want it—and she did. Mouth so good. Good, good mouth. Mmmm. “You didn’t answer me before. Did you miss me?” Robbie asked.