Page 29 of A Very Un-Shakespeare Romance
She let her mouth tip up, wondering how Sheila had gotten Robbie to agree to play. Then again, her partner had a way of convincing men to do things without them realizing they’d been influenced, a trait she swore she’d gotten from her mother, who’d used it as a prosecutor before ascending to the bench as a federal judge.
“I’d love some healthy competition,” she responded, opening her hands for Sheila to throw back the ball. “Reagan, do you want to keep score for us?”
The little girl jumped in place and turned to Robbie. “Can I? Please?”
“Sure.” He broke his regard from her and turned to Reagan, smoothing her hair down. “You can count that high, right? Because we O’Connors have been known to score a lot of points. Right, Billie?”
“You bet, bro!” He went over and high-fived his brother, putting his arm companionably around his shoulders. “And if the women need a big shoulder to cry on afterward, I’ve got one right here for them.”
Robbie pointed to his shoulder as well, as if to suggest he would lend his gorgeous musculature to Lily. Swagger? Oh, this was going to be fun! If she hadn’t been holding the ball, she would have rubbed her hands together in sheer delight. They had no idea who they were dealing with, and now they’d paved the way for neither Sheila nor her to go easy on them. When she glanced over to Sheila, her friend nodded slyly.
They were going to beat the O’Connor boys senseless.
CHAPTERNINE
Robbie’s competitivenesshad gotten the best of him.
“You ready, bro?” Billie asked, holding out his hand for a fist bump when he finished using his foot to sketch out the game’s boundaries in the sand, something that had amused the opposing team. But if they were going to play, they were going to play by the rules.
“I was born ready.” He rolled his shoulders before lowering his voice. “You’re the one who needs to get his head off someone’s curves and focus on the game. We have a rep to uphold.”
“I’m flipping you the bird in my head, so I won’t set a bad example to the kiddies,” Billie said in an equally low voice, kicking some sand at him as he walked to the net.
Robbie cracked his neck and jogged in place to charge himself up as Summer and Clarice pivoted at the hips and stretched. He couldn’t help but take in Summer’s long, slender legs. Since the first moment he’d seen them, he couldn’t take his eyes off them. To look at her, one wouldn’t imagine she was so athletic. Hers was an understated grace and power. Then she gave him that cocky grin of hers as she palmed the volleyball, her eyes nearly dancing in anticipation. She was enjoying the game they were playing as much as he was. And one thing was for sure…
She was going to make him sweat to earn every point. Frankly, he was juiced.
“Shall we toss a coin or something to see who goes first?” Summer offered, practically smirking. “Since you insisted on sketching out a legal court.”
“Maybe we should give them the ball first because they’re such big, lumbering men,” Clarice shot back, anchoring her hands on her hips with a grand laugh.
“Lumbering, my ass,” he muttered under his breath.
Billie made a show of pounding his chest. “Big is right, sweetheart.”
“Biggerisusually better.” Clarice gave a heartfelt sigh before shaking her finger at him. “But not in this case, honey. We are so going to own you. You’ll be begging for us to get to twenty-one points fast to stop the pain. Do they make Band-Aids in your size?”
“Whatever you want to tell yourself, honey.” Billie dug his feet in the sand, finding his stance. “Losers buy dinner.”
Robbie felt the pull. He’d told Tim he was going to cook, but if they won like he planned, he’d have a night off of kitchen duty. Plus, there was no way they were going to lose. Nothing against Sheila, but she had a serious height challenge being so petite. They were going to own her at the net. “Second!”
“Deal!” Summer shouted back, dancing in place. “But you’re going to be the ones buying.”
He saluted her across the net. “Why don’t you go first? Since you’re so going down.”
“Girls, just so you know, bragging about beating someone else is not considered very nice,” he heard Tim say from the sidelines where he was standing with Reagan and Cassidy, who both had sticks in their hands to keep score with.
He wanted to wince as he glanced over. He really should dial back his boasting. Maybe he’d finally found the outlet for his recent frustration. Because he hadn’t felt this good in a really long time, and he was going to savor every freaking minute.
She tossed the ball in the air, clearly playing with him, her smile as bright as the season she’d been named for.
He planted his feet, preparing for her serve. God, he should be old enough to know better, but he’d always loved a challenge. His mother had told stories about how he used to throw his rattle ahead of him when he was first crawling, only to then crawl toward it, triumphant when he reached his prize. “Even then, you loved to push yourself, Robbie,” she’d say. When he’d gone to school, she’d been smart enough to realize it also worked with schoolwork. She wouldn’t just ask how well he’d done on a test. She’d inquire about anyone who’d done better.
Few kids had beaten him—in the classroom or in athletics. Pickup sports were common in his neighborhood back then. Someone was always playing baseball, football, or soccer after school. He’d join in with glee, scoring again and again.
When he’d gone through police training, he’d loved all of the tests—on the gun range, with physical fitness, and in the classroom. He’d graduated at the top of his class again, to the surprise of none of the O’Connors, and had gone on to excel in the department. His close rate was high, so he’d been promoted quickly. After he stopped being so cocky, of course. Even though he was turning forty this year, he’d resisted a desk job, keeping his physical fitness standards high. Sure, he wasn’t a cadet at the police academy, but he wasn’t a midlife windbag who ate too many donuts and couldn’t run down a suspect.
“Anytime you’re ready, Sunshine!” he called out.
