Page 18 of Third Strike Smitten

Brock

Since you never have any. Tonight was a whole event.

Alaric

Yeah. Like a solar eclipse.

Jude

I cried.

Me

You guys are full of shit. I’m always nice to women.

Carter

It’s true. But you’re usually looking for the fastest route to their hotel room.

Bishop

Fuck, is she with you right now? Is that why you didn’t answer my other text?

Me

What? No. Fuck you. She’s not with me. I have no idea where she is.

Bishop

You sure about that? Because you seem awfully defensive.

Me

I’m not defensive. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.

Brock

Sure, you are.

Carter

Night night, Killian. If my wall starts a rockin’, I won’t come a knockin’. Just ask her to keep it down so the rest of us can sleep.

Me

Hey douche donkey, don’t talk about her like that.

Bishop

Nah…Kill’s not being defensive at all.

I lock my phone and toss it onto the nightstand harder than necessary. Assholes. Every single one of them. But as I lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, I can’t help but replay the night in my head all over again. Isla’s laugh. The way she’d leaned in when I said something that made her smile. How I could catch a whiff of her strawberry-scented lotion when she got close enough. How she didn’t flinch when I looked at her with my “don’t fuck with me” face.

The weird thing is, I actually did smile tonight. More than I have in months. And it wasn’t the forced, camera-ready smile I give to reporters. It was real. The kind that actually uses your face muscles.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Maybe she does have some weird voodoo effect on me.