Page 43 of Third Strike Smitten

Me

In your dreams, Haynesy.

Killian

For the record, I didn’t know someone was taking pictures. I’m sorry.

Me

It’s fine. Really. The photo is actually nice. You look good.

Killian

You look better.

I stare at the message, a warmth spreading through my chest that I immediately try to suppress.

This is fake.

We’re pretending.

That’s the whole point.

Me

So, what now? Do we just...let this happen?

Killian

Pretty much. Let the rumor mill do its thing. It’ll help sell the whole “I’m settling down” narrative. The front office is having a meeting today, so hopefully enough of them have seen it too and will talk about us.

Me

Right. The narrative.

I set my phone down and take another bite of cereal, but my appetite has disappeared. Seeing our photo splashed across a gossip site makes this whole arrangement feel more real than it did when we were sitting across from each other at Bellamy’s. Inside and over the phone, we’re just two people pretending to be into one another. But, out there, in the real world, we look like a real couple. We look happy. Comfortable. Like we belong together.

Killian

Gotta hit the bullpen with Hop. Talk later.

Me

Good luck (you know…if you even need luck...which you probably don’t. Maybe pretend I didn’t say that)

Killian

Isla Fallon wishing me luck instead of telling me I pitch slower than her grandma? I will never forget this.

Me

LOL okay smartass.

A few hours later, I’m folding laundry when my phone buzzes again. It’s a text from Killian, and something about the way it comes through—four little words—grabs my attention.

Killian

I need you Isla.