Page 10 of Third Strike Smitten

“Too busy for sex?” Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “Who are you and what have you done with our brother? If I recall, you got those piercings for a reason, and it wasn’t just to have something to look at.”

“Though they are admirable,” Bishop adds, patting me on the back. “An impressive variety of shapes, sizes, and colors “

“Look, I don’t need a relationship,” I say, standing up and stretching.

And I don’t need advice from my family about my love life…or huge lack thereof.

“Nobody said anything about a relationship,” Bishop points out. “Just someone to help you relax.”

“It’s just something to think about, Kill,” Sutton says, coming over and giving me a supportive hug. “Sometimes a distraction or even just a small change in your everyday routine is exactly what you need.”

“Yeah.” I nod, appreciating Sutton’s attempt at helping. “I’ll think about it.”

“In the meantime”—Shepherd hitches his thumb over his shoulder—“I ordered pizza. Come eat something so you’re not sitting here wallowing all night on an empty stomach.”

The team moves through the airport like a well-oiled machine. Players, coaches, and staff all flow toward the private gate where our chartered flight awaits. I’m going through the motions, nodding at teammates who greet me, but my mind is still stuck on Harper’s text.

Find something that isn’t baseball.

As if it’s that simple.

I scan my boarding pass, barely looking at the attendant behind the counter, and continue down the jet bridge. The plane smells like leather and coffee, the familiar scent of our team’s home away from home. I find my usual seat—fifth row on the left—and toss my bag in the overhead compartment.

My best friend on the team and right fielder, Carter Lewis, nudges my shoulder with his as he takes his seat next to me. “You ready for Chicago?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I mutter, adjusting my baseball cap to cover my eyes

“Not enough sleep, Haynes?” he asks, studying my face. “You’re not your usual enthusiastic self. Everything good?”

“Fine,” I lie, settling into my seat. I’m not about to explain to him that my agent thinks I’m on the verge of a breakdown and the front office wants me to loosen up. “Just have a lot on my mind.”

I pull my headphones from my bag, intent on slapping them on and losing myself to one of my favorite playlists when a voice grabs my attention.

“Welcome aboard, gentlemen. Please make sure your bags are secured in the overhead bins or underneath the seat in front of you.”

My head snaps up so fast my neck cracks because the cheery voice is not Kristan Rigg’s familiar soft professional tone. Kristan has been the lead flight attendant on our team flights for years. We all know she’s pregnant and expecting soon, but I wasn’t prepared to hear a different voice today. I lift my gaze to the front of the plane and when I do, my stomach drops.

Hold on.

Is that?

It can’t be.

“We got a new girl?” Carter murmurs, looking in the same direction.

“Looks like it.”

The woman at the front of the cabin has her back to me, as she turns momentarily to speak to the pilot, but I’d recognize that bright-red hair anywhere. It catches the light streaming through the windows, glowing like a warning sign. She’s wearing a crisp flight attendant uniform, her posture professional but relaxed as she continues her pre-flight announcements.

My mouth goes dry as she makes eye contact with me, her expression remaining perfectly professional, but I swear I see a flicker of recognition in her gaze. “Please ensure all electronic devices are switched to airplane mode,” she says, her voice carrying that same bright, teasing quality I remember from the stadium.

I’m frozen in my seat, my headphones around my neck. It can’t be her. It can’t be the same woman who somehow cut through my anxiety with nothing but a few well-timed jokes. But when she turns to face the cabin, I get my confirmation.

Green eyes. Freckles across her nose. That same knowing smile I remember spotting in the middle of a game.

Holy shit.

I think it’s her.