Page 27 of Third Strike Smitten

The question catches me off guard, and I feel heat creeping up my neck. “What do you mean?”

“Would we have to pretend to be...intimate?” She says the word carefully, like she’s testing how it sounds out loud. “Would there be expectations of kissing or touching in public?”

Hell, I hadn’t thought about that either. Frankly, the idea of being able to touch Isla in public or better yet, kiss her, makes my dick stir in my pants. She’s not an unattractive woman at all. On the contrary, she’s quite beautiful. The kind of beauty that sneaks up on you instead of demanding attention. Long bright-red waves frame her face in messy contrast to the oversized sweatshirt she’s drowning in, hints of gold catching beneath the dim restaurant lighting. Her freckles dust across the bridge of her nose and cheeks like they were painted there intentionally, and her green eyes—Christ—those eyes are bright and alive and always look like they’re one second away from laughing at me.

Which, to be fair, they usually are.

And then there’s her smile.

Easy. Real. And fucking dangerous as hell if I’m being honest. She has the kind of smile that makes people relax without realizing it. The kind that softens a room. The kind of smile that softens me.

Even sitting here half-asleep in the middle of the night with a burger and a plate of fries in front of her, she somehow looks effortlessly radiant. Comfortable in her own skin in a way I’ve never quite figured out how to be.

“Uh, well, we’re adults, so I’m going to say yeah, the world is going to assume we’re intimate. Enough that it would probably be weird if we weren’t at least holding hands when we’re together.” I swallow an unexpected lump in my throat before I say, “Maybe a few kisses here and there. You know, if that’s okay with you.”

My gaze falls to her plump pink lips as they part slightly and now I can’t get the idea of kissing her out of my head.

What does she taste like?

Are her lips as soft as they look?

Does she like to use tongue?

Does she make those little whimper noises when she’s being kissed?

I watch as a small smile forms at the corners. “So, you’re saying you want to kiss me? But just for the cameras?”

I shift in my seat, suddenly very aware of how warm I’ve become. “That’s not what I—I mean, if it helps sell the story, then yeah, probably. But only if you’re okay with it.”

She laughs, the sound light and teasing. “You’re really bad at this whole fake dating proposal thing, you know that?”

“Give me a break,” I groan, running a hand through my hair. “I’ve never done this before.”

“And you think I have?” She raises an eyebrow, popping the M&M she’s been holding into her mouth. She leans back against the booth studying me. “And what happens when you catch feelings for me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on now,” she says with an amused expression. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen enough romantic comedies to know that’s usually how these things go. Plus, I’m a catch.”

“Me? You think it’ll be me catching feelings?” I scoff with a goofy smile. “Not happening, Coach. What about you? You do realize women flock to me like⁠—”

“Skanks to a truck stop?” She nods. “Yep. Fully aware. Which is another thing.” She sits up and brings her elbows to the table. “If we’re doing this, I don’t share. If you’re seen flirting with even one little cleat chaser I walk…and I talk. If we do this, you’re mine.”

“Mine?” I repeat, unable to keep the smirk off my face. “Possessive already, Coach? We haven’t even kissed yet.”

Also, I don’t hate that she just called me hers.

She’s laying claim to me and I’m totally here for it.

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the slight blush creeping up her neck. “You know what I mean. We need to make it believable. And nothing screams ‘this relationship is fake’ like Killian Haynes being spotted with multiple women. I will not be humiliated because you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”

Wiping the smile from my face, I tell her sincerely, “I’ll never hurt you, Isla. If you say yes, I’m yours, one hundred percent. And you’re mine. We’re a team. You and me.”

“And no sex,” she adds, her voice firm.

I nearly choke on the Reese’s Cup I was about to eat. “No sex? Like at all?”

“That’s usually what ‘no sex’ means,” she says dryly.