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 wanted so badly to be close enough with Madden to finally ask him about that part of his life, but they’d never made the transition from friends to confidants.
Today, however, possibilities existed where none had before. The bubble of hope expanded just in time for Robbie to set down a coffee mug of orange juice in front of her and fall into the opposite chair, halfway through unwrapping what looked like a bacon, egg, and cheese on a bagel. And it didn’t go unnoticed by Skylar that he slipped a second one into the pocket of his black Bearcats fleece for later. “Do you mind if I eat?”
“Be my guest.”
“Thanks.” A third of the breakfast sandwich was gone in one bite. “So, tell me about yourself.”
Original. “No thanks.”
“Besides pitch like a Hall of Famer, what are you into?”
“Cannibalism.”
Robbie chuckled into his second robust bite, leaned back into a sprawl, and studied her while he chewed. “Are you mean to everyone or just me?”
Skylar crossed her arms and propped them on the table. “Are you surprised I’m a little standoffish after you made a joke out of me in front of everyone, then punched my brother in the face?” She exhaled toward the ceiling. “You better hope Elton’s black eye is gone before we visit my parents next week or Mother is going to be pissed. She taught me everything I know about cannibalism. You’re big. You could feed us for a month.”
“See, now I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
“I’m not,” she deadpanned.
“I see.” He tossed the remainder of the sandwich into his mouth, chewing briefly and swallowing the bite in an audible gulp. Briefly, very briefly, her attention was drawn to the network of throat muscles that strained inside the raised collar of his fleece. Nice, but she wasn’t interested. “How did I make a joke out of you?”
Skylar blinked at him. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” How galling that he appeared authentically puzzled. “I thought I was doing the opposite.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. By hyping you up.”
It took every ounce of her maturity not to mimic that dopey statement in his distinctive baritone. “I don’t need to be hyped up, you presumptuous dickwad. My arm does that for me.” She drummed the fingers of her right hand in the crook of her left elbow. “I was there to pitch. I should have been treated like any other pitcher. Did you stop to think how uncomfortable it would be for a woman to be in the company of two dozen guys while being objectified so openly like that?”
Was it satisfying to watch her explanation sink in? Yes. It was.
Unfortunately, the way his skin drained of color, his eyes closing briefly, as if silently berating himself, was annoyingly . . . endearing? Perhaps that wasn’t the right word, but it was becoming steadily obvious that he hadn’t intended to embarrass her. Or make her uncomfortable. Not that he got a free pass. He didn’t. “Wow. I’m sorry.” He balled up the foil in which his sandwich had come wrapped, bouncing it off his own forehead. “I didn’t think of it that way.”
“Whatever.” She uncrossed her arms, scooped up her mug of orange juice, and took a hearty gulp. “I already hated your guts by that point, anyway.”
“Because you overheard what I said when you arrived at the field?” He dropped his head back on a groan. “I knew it.”
“Why else would I have mouthed the words ‘fuck you’ before introductions were made?”
“I don’t know, I just figured you hate redheads.”
“I do. But only when they’re named Robbie.”
“Very specific of you.”
“It’s who I am.”
“Tell me more about who you are.” When Skylar only rolled her eyes at him and pretended to stab herself in the neck with an invisible knife, Robbie swiped a hand through his mess of windblown hair, a tattoo peeking out from the sleeve of his fleece, which appeared to be the outline of an island. “All right, I can see I’m starting from a deficit with you. The first period hasn’t even started yet and I’m losing by five.”
“Eight.”
“Cool. Cool.” He spread his hands. “I like women. Women like me. Usually. I’m not going to apologize for that, but . . . the shit I was saying when you arrived at the field . . . I guess it sounds a lot worse in hindsight.”
Skylar was getting tired of scolding him like a cranky school principal. “I’m not here to lecture you about your treatment of women.” She gave him a bright smile. “You’re going to learn your lesson all on your own someday and that’s good enough for me.”
Robbie shivered. “You’re kind of dark, Rocket, you know that?”
“Pretty standard for a cannibal.”
He huffed a laugh, shook his head. “Damn. I would give my left—”
“Slow down. Think about your words.”