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

Simon’s mission wasn’t to write a gossipy tell-all, he just wanted something to fill up the sports section.
    “Sure,” Tucker said. “Maybe you can give me some insight into Emmy while we’re at it.”
    “Emmy?” Simon favored her with his grin. “She’s an open book. What you see is what you get.”
    “Is that so?” Tucker regarded her again, and this time the message was clear: I see you. When do I get you?
    There was no stopping the hot, pink flush that covered her cheeks when she fell under the scrutiny of his gaze. With one pass of his mismatched eyes, Tucker did things to her Simon’s rakish grin could never have managed.
    She flipped open her laptop and typed egwrwrhwhww rgwgwhw ogworignwognw into an open email, trying to will her face to stop betraying her. “You guys have fun.”
    Simon leaned across her desk and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She jumped when his lips touched her skin. “Don’t work too hard. I still want to take you out.”
    Emmy smiled at him, but she couldn’t escape how guilty she felt.

Chapter Ten
    San Francisco at Kansas City, Record 1-2
    The opening series against Chicago had been a disaster. It was only the first three games of the season, but the San Francisco sports media was already projecting a dreary season.
    As if baseball were like the weather and anyone could predict a season after two losses.
    But Tucker understood their logic. He’d tried to avoid reading anything, but in his hotel room at the Kansas City Hyatt he had time on his hands and needed a distraction. He wasn’t pitching tonight but still had to go to the park early for a one-on-one with Emmy to work out his arm.
    If he dwelled too long on the idea of being one-on-one with Emmy, he would go out of his mind, so he opened his laptop and checked a few overdue emails. His agent was asking for an answer on a proposed cologne endorsement, but Tucker wasn’t sure. The money was good, but he didn’t understand how he fit the Hugo Boss image.
    He’d ignore Dave a little longer.
    His sister had emailed new pictures of his niece and nephew. Cameron was only eight months old, but Lucy already had him decked out in full Felons gear. Poppy was wearing last season’s shirt, and it was too small, showing off her round toddler belly. The three-year-old proudly held her little brother up for the camera, beaming her perfect child’s grin.
    Tucker smiled and wrote back a short thanks to Lucy, passing on kisses to the kids.
    With no emails left to distract him and only a lonely hotel room at his disposal, Tucker had two options. He could read the sports blogs, or he could jerk off.
    Either way he was screwing himself.
    He opened a new tab in his browser window and pulled up the San Francisco Chronicle ’s online sports page. As the local team, the Felons came up as the first article. Tucker read through the summary of their first three game series—sloppy fielding, cold bats—until he found the first mention of pitching.
    They started out discussing the winning game from the previous night, and he gave the reporter props for applauding a solid effort from Max Dawson, a newly acquired left-hander the Felons got from Seattle. He’d struck out eleven batters, and Tucker was thrilled to have him in the rotation.
    Then the blog arrived at him.
    Tucker Lloyd, the former Felons ace, may be past his prime. In a season meant to send the Felons to a long-awaited World Series bid, one has to wonder if Lloyd still belongs in the starting rotation. With up-and-comer Miles Cartwright showing real promise in the bullpen, and a lineup of strong young players like Dawson and Chalmers, is there room for a knuckleball-throwing older player like Lloyd? Or it is time for the Felons to call it a loss and look at shuffling this once-great player into a support role?
    Tucker’s fingers itched as he fought the urge to reply to the posting with a scathing fuck you in the comments. No good came of responding to the press, but it was hard to