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’s something, isn’t she, boys?” Robbie called when the noise died down.
The next batter stepped forward, striking the metal bat off his shaggy pair of Jordans. “She’s a lot cooler than my friggin’ sister.”
“Hey.” Skylar wagged a finger. “No one is bad-mouthing any sisters on my watch.”
“Sorry, she’s the friggin’ worst.”
Robbie snorted around a bite of his third sandwich. “All right, you punks are hogging my girlfriend and I’m sick of it.” He waved his pastrami and cheese on rye. “One more batter and we’re out of here.”
Skylar didn’t outwardly react to Robbie calling her his girlfriend, even if her stomach flipped over like an egg being fried in oil. Sizzleclap. She tried to make the mental excuse that their actual relationship required too much explanation. Saying “girlfriend” was simply more expeditious. Except he was looking right at her now, chewing his sandwich with satisfaction and staring at her, as if to say, Yeah, you’re my girlfriend, what are you going to do about it?
And she might have been smiling back.
The eggs in her belly scrambled together.
Oh boy. Was this happening? Am I taking this leap?
The only thing that could have broken the spell in that moment was one of the kids whispering, “Girlfriends are grosser than sisters,” loudly enough to be heard in Cincinnati. Robbie threw back his head and laughed, startling a woman who passed by pushing a stroller. With her stomach still in chaos, Skylar fell into her pitching stance—and that’s when she noticed the one kid who hadn’t batted yet. He sat off to the side, his expression a cross between anxious and dejected. When Robbie stopped laughing, she watched him follow her line of sight over to the youngster.
“You want to bat, kid?” Robbie called.
The kid shook his head vigorously.
Robbie balled up his sandwich wrapper, threw it away, and walked over to the boy. Every eye was drawn to the conversation, turning the kid’s cheeks red, so Skylar put two fingers in her mouth and whistled to distract them. “Hey. Who’s my next victim?”
As she pitched to the final batter, she tried not to be obvious about listening to the conversation between the shy kid and Robbie, but she was too curious to ignore them completely. How was he going to handle this?
“What’s your name?”
“Bo.”
“Bo, you don’t like baseball?”
“No.”
“You have excellent taste. Neither do I.”
Skylar rolled her eyes.
“Although it’s definitely growing on me. Don’t tell the pitcher.”
She pretended not to hear that.
“All they want to do is play baseball, though. Every day.” Bo shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “They make me play even though I suck.”
“You suck less lately,” one of the boys offered cheerfully.
“Hey,” Skylar said. “Pay attention. Who’s next?”
Eight kids shouted, “ME.”
“Do you like sports at all?” Robbie asked.
“Yeah,” Bo responded. “I’d just rather be inside.”
Without looking over, she knew a grin was spreading across Robbie’s face. “Have you considered hockey?”
As if to punctuate the moment, thunder rolled in the distance.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Robbie meant what he’d said earlier—and he meant it even more now. He wished he could go back in time and erase every single thing he’d done with women before Skylar. Every depraved act he’d committed. Every empty hookup. Because this . . . running home in the sudden downpour and getting soaked, forced to stop so they could laugh and kiss every hundred or so yards, sipping rainwater from her mouth . . . this was the definition of fulfillment. He’d fucking found it.
Due to the welcome heaviness in his chest and mind and nerve endings, his feet were barely working well enough to keep pace through the trees leading to the house. He just kept thinking, She didn’t correct me when I called her my girlfriend.
What did that mean?
Was this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity really knocking?
“I know it’s pouring and this makes no sense, but . . .” Skylar said, slowing to a stop, turning to him, her hair plastered to her face and neck, dress soaked, skin wet. If there was a chance he could call this woman his, he’d beat the game of life. Nothing compared to her. Nothing and no one could ever come close. “I don’t want to go home yet.”
“It makes perfect sense to me,” Robbie managed, his voice like gravel. “God, you look so beautiful right now.”
Her tits rose and fell. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
It was darker than it should have been this time of the afternoon, but clouds had moved in and left the air heavy, slightly humid. They stood in the electric atmosphere, their clothes absorbing more and more rain, but neither one of them caring or taking notice. And it must have been the strange suspension of time that made Robbie push. Made him reach for an answer, even though he was asking too soon. Even though he hadn’t quite earned the answer he wanted yet. Even though he’d given her barely any time to consider him.