Page 84 of Third Strike Smitten

“I haven’t sung like that in ages. Pretty sure it was a fucking travesty,” I tell her, but I can’t wipe the stupid grin off my face.

“You loved it,” she counters, her eyes dropping to my mouth. “Admit it.”

Before I can answer, she’s dragging me back toward our table, her hand finding mine and lacing our fingers together. The contact sends a jolt straight up my arm, and I don’t pull away. I just let her lead me through the crowd, past the strangers and their exaggerated thumbs-up and high-fives.

“That was pretty fucking good, Haynes!” Jude compliments with a pat on the back when we reach our table. We’re squeezed into seats packed tightly together, and when I notice someone has taken one of our chairs, I sit down in an empty one and pull Isla onto my lap. “You’re a natural performer.”

“Nah.” I shake my head. “Pretty sure I sounded like a dying cat.” My protest is hollow. I can still feel the ghost of a smile on my face because fuck it, that felt good.

“Maybe.” Isla shrugs her shoulders, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But you were my dying cat. And you looked sexy as fuck up there.”

Her words hit me right in the center of my chest.

Happy.

Is that what this feeling is?

This lightness, this lack of a knot in my stomach? I take a long pull from my beer just to have something to do with my hands.

“It’s just too bad dying cats aren’t very good in bed.”

Several jaws drop around the table, the guys chuckling at Isla’s teasing. She’s so amused with herself because that comment is pure Isla; bold, teasing, designed to get a rise out of me.

And it works.

A different kind of heat floods my system, low and insistent. A slow grin spreads across my face as I lean in close, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“That’s a dangerous accusation to make, Fallon. You sure you want to test that theory?”

Her laugh is a low, throaty sound that goes straight to my groin. “Oh, I’m sure. I’m just calling it like I see it. All that swagger on the field and on stage has to be compensating for something, right?”

I tighten my arm around her waist, pulling her more firmly against me on my lap. I can feel the heat of her through her shorts, the soft curve of her ass a perfect fit against me. “You know what they say about assumptions.”

“I do,” she says, turning her head so her mouth is inches from mine. Her breath is warm and sweet. “But I’m more of a hands-on researcher.”

The guys are whooping now, the conversation at the table completely derailed by our flirtation.

“Is that so?”

She grins but only answers with a sound. “Mmm.” Her head tilts to the side as she studies me, and then she asks, “Tell me, Haynesy, all those women you slept with before…are you the reason they don’t come back or…” her voice changes to a sympathetic tone. “Are you the reason they don’t come back.”

Bishop bursts out in laughter. “Definitely the latter. Don’t let him fool you.”

“I read in the tabloids that he’s a ’two-pump chump,’” Jude adds with a shit-eating grin, raising his beer in a mock toast. “His record is sixty-three seconds, but don’t ask me how I know.”

Carter leans across the table, his expression mock serious. “Nah, nah, it’s the talking. He gives a play-by-play commentary. ‘And the pitcher sets, checks the runner...oh, he’s going for the fastball!’”

The whole table howls with laughter. I feel my ears burn, but I’m grinning too, because Isla’s body is shaking with silent laughter against mine, and relishing in her joy is better than any fucking pitch I’ve ever made.

“He’s a cuddler,” Bishop deadpans from across the table, not even looking up from his phone. “Like, aggressively so. Won’t let you go. It’s suffocating. Oh, and you better leave a light on.”

“Dude! I was six and you promised you would never tell!” I shout at him in amusement.

“Yeah, we promised we’d never tell Mom and Dad,” he answers with a laugh. “I never promised shit about these guys or Isla.”

“Don’t forget he calls his dick ‘The Commissioner,’” Paxton finishes, howling as he delivers the final blow. “Thinks it’s running the whole damn show.”

Isla turns her face into my neck, her laughter muffled against my skin. I can feel the heat of her breath, the vibration of her giggles. “The Commissioner, huh?”