Page 101 of Third Strike Smitten

“I’m keeping you distracted,” I correct her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “And it’s working, isn’t it?”

She nods, her lips curving into a genuine smile. “Yeah, it’s working.”

“Good.” I straighten up, scanning the room with practiced ease. “Now, let’s go work this room like the power couple we are.”

The next hour passes in a blur of introductions, handshakes, and small talk. I navigate the social landscape with a confidence that surprises even me. Usually, these events make my skin crawl—all that expectation, everyone watching for a misstep—but tonight is different. Tonight, I’m not here for me. I’m here for Isla.

I introduce her to everyone we meet, my hand never leaving her body. “This is Isla Fallon,” I say each time, pride swelling in my chest when I see the way people respond to her warmth and intelligence.

When we reach the Lagers’ owner, Marcus Donovan, and his wife, I feel Isla tense beside me. Marcus is a formidable presence, tall, broad-shouldered, with a reputation for being brutally honest.

“Haynes,” Marcus greets me with a firm handshake. “Good to see you.” And then he shifts to Isla, appraising her with interest. “And this must be the woman who’s been keeping you out of trouble.”

“Marcus, this is Isla Fallon,” I say, my voice steady despite the slight tremor I feel from her body. “Isla, this is Marcus Donovan, owner of the Portland Lagers and Portland Rush.”

Isla extends her hand, her smile bright and confident despite the nerves I know are churning inside her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Donovan.”

“Please, call me Marcus.” He takes her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Ms. Fallon.”

“All good things, I hope,” she replies with a laugh that sounds genuine, though I can feel her fingers digging slightly into my arm.

“Word around the clubhouse is that Killian hasn’t been able to shut up about you,” Marcus says, surprising me. “But I have to say, the photos don’t do you justice.”

His wife, Eleanor, a striking woman with silver-streaked hair, steps forward. “Don’t mind my husband, he’s terrible with compliments. I’m Eleanor Donovan.” She takes Isla’s hands in hers. “That dress is absolutely stunning on you.”

“Thank you,” Isla says, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “It’s such an honor to meet you both.”

“We’re looking forward to your speech tonight,” Eleanor continues. “The Step Forward Foundation is a very worthy cause.”

Isla’s face brightens at Eleanor’s words. “Thank you. It’s a cause that’s very close to my heart.”

Marcus clears his throat. “Haynes, I’d like a word with you if you don’t mind sparing a moment.”

“Of course,” I reply, glancing at Isla. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”

Isla nods, and Eleanor immediately steps in. “Come, dear. Let me introduce you to some of the other board members.”

As Marcus leads me away, I catch Isla’s eye one more time, giving her a subtle nod of encouragement. She smiles back, that beautiful, brave smile that squeezes my heart.

“The foundation does impressive work,” Marcus says once we’re out of earshot. “But I wanted to talk to you about something else.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“Your girl for one,” Marcus says, his voice lower now. “She’s different from your usual...companions.”

I bristle slightly at his tone. “Isla isn’t a companion. She’s⁠—”

“The real thing,” Marcus finishes for me. “I can see that, Haynes. I’ve been around this business long enough to know the difference between a publicity stunt and genuine connection.”

I swallow hard, unsure how to respond. The truth is, Marcus isn’t wrong. What started as a carefully orchestrated arrangement has evolved into something real, something that terrifies me more than any high-pressure game ever could.

“Your performance has improved significantly since she came into your life,” Marcus continues, his gaze sharp and assessing. “Your ERA is down, you’re more focused on the mound, and Coach tells me your attitude has done a complete one-eighty.”

I nod, keeping my expression neutral despite the pride swelling in my chest. “Yeah, well,” I shrug. “I guess Isla’s been good for me.”

“That’s an understatement.” Marcus takes a sip of his whiskey as he scans the crowd before returning his gaze to me. “I wanted to let you know personally that we’re extending your contract. Three more years with the Lagers, if you’re interested.”

The news hits me with a jolt. “Three more years?” I repeat, my voice coming out rougher than intended. My mind races, trying to process what this means.