Pitcher Perfect (Big Shots, #4)

by Tessa Bailey

“Gauthier with the baseball lingo,” someone said. “I think I just sprouted wood.” “Really? Because I fucking lost mine.” Redbeard’s grin finally, rapidly, dropped and he socked the guy who’d lost his boner in the shoulder. “There’s a lady present, jackass.” “Sorry, Chloe,” yawned his friend. “What? Nah, Chloe is used to our bullshit.” She could feel Redbeard staring at her from the assemblage of hockey dudes. “I was talking about the pitcher. She’s feeling me.” A jolt of surprise ran from Skylar’s shoulder down to her fingertips. He was . . . talking about her? She’d been the target of myriad intimidation strategies, but this one took the cake. Skylar resented being taken out of her pitching zone, but this shithead needed to be put in his place. “No, I’m not,” she called sweetly. Redbeard went back to smiling. “You will be.” “Only if I have to check for a pulse after the game,” Skylar said, doing her best to sound bored. “Because we’re about to murder you.” “Trust me, I’ve got a pulse, sweetie. You’re making it race.”