Read Online Pitch Perfect: Boys of Summer, Book 1 by Sierra Dean - Free Book Online

“Orange suits you.”
    Emmy looked down at her jacket and smiled. “It’s a bit different than the old black-and-white, isn’t it?” Self-conscious of the bright color, she took the jacket off and hung it on the back of her door. The training room was stifling hot anyway, and her office felt like a sauna with more than one person in it.
    “Tough game.” He sat back down.
    Simon was tall but bulkier than most of the men she spent her days with. He had played football in college and often claimed his torn ACL was the only thing that kept him from advancing to the NFL. While Emmy appreciated how devastating an ACL tear could be for professional careers, she’d also seen old video of Simon playing.
    The ACL hadn’t been what kept him from the pros. He lacked passion in his game, and no one could get anywhere in professional sports without passion. It was as much a sports truth as “you can’t win ’em all.”
    He ran a hand through his short blond hair and gave her the grin he’d perfected. It was that smile that had made her knees turn to Jell-O when she’d first met him, and even now her stomach wobbled to see it.
    “It’s good to see you,” she said, realizing she hadn’t said it yet.
    “I’m going to take you out.”
    “Oh.” Her gaze darted to her laptop, then back to his hooded green eyes. “I have to—”
    “Em, I know the drill, believe me. You do your paperwork. I have my own job to do here.” He patted the front of his blazer, where she knew he kept a compact digital recorder. “But this is San Francisco, not some small minor league town. I’m sure we can find a place willing to make us food after eleven.”
    Emmy nodded, not sure why she was so hesitant to be alone with her boyfriend. Surely it was just shyness from being apart for such a long time. She was worried they didn’t know each other the same way anymore. It had absolutely nothing to do with—
    Tucker Lloyd knocked on her door.
    Emmy’s pulse tripped as she looked from the pitcher to the reporter across from her desk. The two men gave each other polite nods of acknowledgment then turned to her for the appropriate introductions.
    “Simon, this is Tucker.”
    Simon clambered up from his chair, reaching to close the distance, and gave Tucker a firm handshake. They were both big men in different ways, and Emmy marveled at how Tucker towered over Simon, but Simon made Tucker appear much thinner by comparison.
    “Tucker, this is Simon Howell. Simon’s a sports reporter from the Chicago Sun-Times . He’s here covering the Sox.”
    “Pleasure to meet you,” Simon said. “Big admirer, of course. Great to see you back this season.”
    “Thanks.” They pulled free of the handshake before it went to awkward lengths, then Tucker looked at Emmy and their gazes locked. “Chicago, you said?”
    “Yes,” Simon confirmed.
    “You knew Emmy before she was a Felon.”
    Emmy and Tucker continued to stare at each other, in spite of the pitcher directing his questions at Simon.
    “Simon is my… Simon’s my boyfriend.” The word boyfriend sounded stupid to her in this context. It was such a youthful word, and at thirty-two she hardly felt young enough to be using it. There were two grown men in her office, and she was describing one of them in high school terms. Maybe she should call Tucker her crush to balance it out.
    For once her cheeks didn’t flare up at the wrong moment, and she was grateful for small favors.
    “Of course,” Tucker said, finally looking back at Simon. “Emmy told me about you.”
    After she let me kiss her, Emmy finished his sentence in her head.
    “If you have a few minutes, I’d love to ask you some questions. Before the rest of the press gets to you.” There was the Simon Emmy knew so well. Using any advantage to get the scoop. He was smooth, she had to give him that. All smiles and flattery.
    It helped he didn’t tend to rip players apart in print. There was no reason for Tucker not to talk to Simon.