"McKenna, can you take the patient in room five? Jessica’s making a spectacle of herself." Dr. Bert, my boss, ran his hands through his white, thinning hair.

"No problem. I just finished my last patient."

This wasn’t the first time Jessica had been pulled from a patient because her flirting was uncontrollable. The only reason my uptight boss kept her was because some of the patients adored her and would take their business elsewhere if she left.

Dr. Bert gave me a tight smile and went to his office. Jessica entered after him, her head hanging low.

I pulled the chart off the wall and scanned the patient’s details. A bubble of laughter hit me and my eyes watered from keeping it in.

"Alfred, I'm going to be finishing up your treatment today." I entered the room and hoped I could get through the session without bursting into giggles.

"Good, the other girl couldn't stop staring—Raine?" A familiar voice broke into my thoughts.

"Trip?" I glanced down at the paperwork and back at a very shirtless Trip Butler.

My mind halted, and if someone held a gun to my head I wouldn't have been able to spout off a single statistic, or fact. I forced my eyes to meet his and not wander over his bare chest, memorizing his tattoos like they wanted to.

"Wait, your name’s Alfred Butler?" I blurted out, still focused on his eyes.

Trip's jaw clenched tight. The five o'clock stubble made him even more appealing. "You can never tell anyone my real name." With his jaw so tight his words came out hard.

I nodded my head and moved to the electro-stem machine. My fingers tingled when I placed the pads on his shoulder.

"I promise your secret’s safe with me." I packed his shoulder in heat as the machine worked its magic.

In all the time I’d researched Trip, and I researched a lot, I'd never realized Trip wasn't his first name. By the red tips to his ears he would've been fine with that not changing.

"So where did Trip come from?" I asked, taking the pads off.

"I'm the third Alfred in my family."

I pushed him on the table and worked my fingers into the muscles around his shoulder. He winced when I encountered a nasty knot.

"Breathe through it. I need to work it out so it doesn't get stiff. The scar tissue needs to be broken down."

Trip's blue eyes connected with mine. "Do you need to breathe too?"

My pent-up breath released in a wheeze as my cheeks burned. "You kind of stink," I blurted out, giving him the only explanation I could think of that wasn't humiliating.

He chuckled and I dug my finger in a sensitive area.

"Ouch, Raine."

"Sorry," I replied sweetly, still digging into his shoulder.

"No, you're not. Just wait until tomorrow. You're going to regret this."

"Well, right now you're not my coach. Right now you're my patient. I'm the one in control." I bit the inside of my cheek.

What the hell am I doing?

Flirting with Trip Butler was way out of my comfort zone. This was the man I’d crushed on for way too long. The man who admitted he never wanted to get married. The man who was seven years older than me. And last but not least, the man who was my coach and off-limits.

"That's where you're wrong. I'm always your coach." His eyes burned into mine and I hated being the one to break contact first.

"So, was it your grandpa who was employed by Bruce Wayne first?"

"So many buckets of balls in your future," he growled.

I could’ve sworn there was a hint of a smile on his face as we went to the workout area.

"All right, Alfred, you're done," I announced.

"Don't call me that," he snapped, getting off the weight bench. He wiped the sweat off his face and my mouth dried.

My posters really didn't do him any justice. Maybe I should spray them with water and try and get that just worked out gleam.

"Oh, come on. It's just us. Unless Jessica's still lurking about."

Trip scanned the workout room. "You don't think she's still here, do you?"

"No, you're safe. Dr. Bert made her leave when he caught her drooling over you during your reps.”

"She tried to get me to take off my pants for therapy."

Why didn’t I think of that?

"Oh, I'm sure it was a hardship for you. You get no sympathy from me. Jessica’s gorgeous," I told him, cleaning up the equipment.

"I can get gorgeous any day of the week."

"Ugh, so arrogant, Alfred. It's not becoming on you." I wiggled my finger at him and he grinned.

"It's not arrogance when it's the truth. Women fall for me, but that's the problem. I don't want them to fall for me."

"Yes, your so called bachelor for life decree."

"Stalking isn't becoming, Raine." He grabbed the weights off the floor and put them away.

"You're my coach. Of course I checked up on you." Arrogant ass didn't need to know I could rattle his stats off the top of my head.

His posters are definitely coming down when I get home.

"So you’ve never heard of me before today?"

"Only in comic books."

“Yet you knew what team I played for when you yelled at me to put my sling back on.”

“Well, I’ve heard of you in passing. I grew up in San Diego and you’re one of the older pitchers.”

"Not funny. Come on, I'll walk you out. I need to make sure you’re alive so I can kill you tomorrow in practice."

"I promise I won't die. I wouldn't want to miss a chance at torturing you on your next appointment."

"See you tomorrow, Raine."

"Night, Coach."

I climbed into my Explorer and started the engine. Trip climbed into his Dodge Viper, but the engine remained off. I waited, wondering if he was on the phone. When his car didn't move I killed my engine and went to knock on his window.

He glared at me and got out of his car.

"Are you sleeping in your car? Don't tell me you blew all your money. There aren't a lot of studies about the rate ABL players go bankrupt, but in other sports it’s a pandemic." I put my hands on my hips, ready to lecture him on his poor money management.

"Shut up, Raine. I have money." He glanced at his car like it had betrayed him.

"Then why are you hanging out in the parking lot? Is your car not starting? The Viper isn't on a recall list and its performance index rating is fantastic."

"My shoulder hurts and I don't think I can shift it."

"Oh, uhm. Here, take my car." I shoved my keys in his hand.

His face twisted in horror when he looked at the pink softball and adorable turtle hanging from them.

"No." He pushed them back into my hand.

"Why? Are you afraid driving a car beneath you will ruin your bad boy reputation?"

My shoulders rose and my eyes narrowed. Nobody, not even my future husband could make me feel bad about my car.

"The car that drove me to every t-ball practice all the way to high school was an Explorer. Don't get high and mighty on me, Raine. It doesn't look good on you."

"Then take my car." I thrust my keys back in his hand and settled into his car, starting the engine.

"Do you know how to drive a stick?" He leaned into the open door, his scowl present.

"Yes, I know how to drive stick. I'm part of the eighteen percent of people in the US who can."

Trip's mouth looked odd as if he was trying to keep frowning, but fighting a smile at the same time.

"So many buckets tomorrow."

"You're welcome, Coach. See you tomorrow."

Trip walked to my car, his head shaking, and I was pretty sure his mouth was moving.

"Norah Grace, don't answer that door," I hissed, not wanting to wake up Renee.

"Hi, Uncle Trip. Are you here to marry Aunt Kenna?"

I needed to look up the probability of having a sink hole develop under me. Norah Grace was so close to turning five. It was a shame she wasn't going to make it.

With dread I walked over to see Norah ushering Trip and his Pappies’ teammate Brian Wright into our apartment. Brian and Trip had been named the dream team over five years ago. As Trip’s catcher, the two of them acted as if they had a telepathic connection between them. Watching them play was magical.

Trip smiled when he noticed my scowl as I studied him and Brian casually standing in my living room with Norah chattering away.

"So you've just heard of me in passing?" he asked as Brian laughed next to him.

“She calls everyone uncle, and I was telling her you were my new coach,” I explained, hoping Norah would keep her mouth shut.

Norah cocked her head to the side with confusion.

"Kenna, I need you. My piece of feces sewing machine doesn't realize I have a deadline and is acting like a flaccid phallus," Renee yelled, storming into the living room, her hair wild around her head.

Renee's eyes grew wide when she realized we weren't alone. She tugged on her wrinkled tank top, trying to cover her skimpy shorts. "What are you doing here?"

"He's here—"

I cut Norah off before she could remind Trip of our upcoming nuptials. "He took over Coach Hans’ spot. He's my new coach," I finished lamely.

“Okay, but what are they doing here?”

"I brought back her car," Trip added while Brian stared at Renee with shock on his face.

"Why do you have Dora?" Norah asked, her tiny little face focused on Trip.

"Dora?" Brian questioned.

Trip threw back his head and laughed loudly. "Dora the Explorer. Why does that not surprise me, Raine?"

Renee cleared her throat and I refused to look at her.

"Well, okay. Thanks for bringing my car back. Let me get your keys." I dug in my purse while my cheeks burned red. I needed to get them out fast before Norah opened her adorable little mouth and let forth more embarrassing words.

"Momma, can Aunt Kenna make me breakfast first before she fixes your stupid sewing machine?"

"Norah Grace, you know I don't like that word," Renee scolded, bopping her nose.

"Well, it was either that word or another and I don't think you really would have liked the other one."

Trip and Brian laughed, but it turned into a cough when Renee shot them the evil eye.

"I can take a look at your sewing machine. I used to fix my grammy's all the time when her eyesight went bad," Brian offered.

"It's fine. Kenna's really good at fixing it," Renee stammered, her hand flying to her unruly hair.

"Momma, this is perfect. He can help you with your stu—I mean, sewing machine, and Aunt Kenna and Uncle Trip can cook breakfast."

I groaned, staring at the ceiling.

"I really need to get back," Trip started, but Brian wasn't having any of it.

"What a great idea." He slapped Trip on the shoulder before moving closer to Renee. "Lead the way."

"No, really, it's fine." Renee eyed me and I just shrugged.

She finally blew out a breath and headed toward her sewing machine with Brian right behind her.

"Come on, Aunt Kenna. Come on, Uncle Trip." Norah grabbed our hands and pulled us into the kitchen.

"She calls everyone uncle?" Trip’s voice sounded skeptical.

"Norah, if you want to turn five I suggest you keep your mouth shut," I hissed to her.

Norah's little face scrunched up as she contemplated if her next birthday was truly in danger. My face must have conveyed how serious I was.

"Yes, I call everyone uncle. I get confused. I'm only four, you know." Norah put her hands on her hips and glared at Trip, her face daring him to contradict her.

Trip winked at her before swinging her around, resting her on his hip. "What are we having for breakfast?"

I dragged my feet behind the two of them. I tried not to think about how cute Trip was holding Norah. When I felt the image burn into my brain I began reciting the muscles in the body.

"What did you say about my gluteus maximus?" Trip asked, turning around to smirk at me.

"Aunt Kenna recites the muscles when she gets annoyed," Norah explained to him. "So don't worry, it wasn't your butt she was thinking about."

Trip's eyes went wide and I giggled, grabbing Norah from his arms.

"It's never yours," I added.

Trip's eyebrow went up and his gaze landed on my chest before looking back into my eyes. "I highly doubt that. So what are we making for breakfast? I make a mean blueberry waffle."

"The waffle part sounds amazing but skip the blueberries," I told him, shuffling around the kitchen to pull out the waffle iron.

"What? Blueberries are the best part."

"I'm allergic to blueberries. My eyes swell up and my throat gets scratchy," Norah explained, shaking her head like she was disappointed he didn't know that about her.

"Well, we wouldn't want that. Trip waffles without blueberries coming up." He took the waffle iron from me and moved around the kitchen with ease.

I sat next to Norah and tried not to stare at the sexy man in my kitchen, cooking breakfast. A loud laugh came from the hallway and I glanced at Norah.

"I think Momma likes him. She never laughs at guys unless it's Grandpa," Norah whispered in my ear.

Renee's laugh sounded out again, this time followed by a deeper one belonging to Brian.

"You're right. I don't remember your mom laughing like that in a long time." I tickled her tummy and she squealed loudly.

"Not even with my daddy?" she asked, her eyes round with innocence.

Renee and I never hid anything from Norah, but we also never told her the complete truth of her father. In the beginning it was enough, but since she started school and saw all the daddies she was more curious about her sperm donor.

Trip glanced at us and stopped cutting fruit. He leaned against the counter, not bothering to hide he was listening. His arms bulged when they crossed over his muscular chest and my mouth went dry from the sight. Trip coughed and I glanced back at Norah, knowing I was caught.

"Your mom and I weren't friends when she was with your daddy. We only became friends when I found out she was pregnant with you. I don't know if she ever laughed with him, but I have a feeling she didn't. I can promise you she’s gotten more laughs from you than a million guys could have given her. And he made us both happy by giving us you."

Trip sent me a wink before moving to pull out the first waffle.

"What would you like on your waffle, my lady?" Trip asked Norah.

"Strawberries and whipped cream." She bounced up and down.

"That's a lot of sugar for breakfast," I told her, getting up and pulling out the butter and syrup.

"Aunt Kenna, you threatened my life and told me my dad was a scoundrel. I think sugar’s in order this morning. Don't you?" she countered.

"You told her what?" Renee emerged from the hall, Brian standing next to her.

I smacked my palm against my forehead, glaring at Norah around my wrist. She blew me a kiss and pointed to her bare waffle.

Needing something to do, I poured fresh strawberries on her waffle, finishing it off with a mountain of whipped cream, hoping it would keep her quiet.

"Trip wanted to make her blueberry waffles, but we explained Norah was allergic to them."

Trip nodded, confirming my statement.

"Then we heard you laugh, and I asked if you laughed like that with my dad," Norah filled in.

I bit my lip as I watched Renee's cheeks turn red.

"And Aunt Kenna explained she never saw you two together, but she was certain I made you laugh more than anyone," Norah finished with a huge mouthful of sugar coated waffle.

"Anyone want a waffle?" Trip interjected.

"I do," I answered, thankful for the subject change.

"Those were amazing," Norah said, rubbing her tummy.

"Trip's infamous for his waffles, but I'm a legend for my enchiladas." Brian got up and grabbed his plate, taking Renee's and Norah's as he went to the kitchen.

"Your enchiladas have nothing on my steak," Trip argued.

"Are you two really arguing about enchiladas and steak, or are those just euphemisms?” I asked, pushing my plate away.

Trip coughed on the coffee he just took a sip of, and Norah pounded her fist on his back.

"Not a euphemism. It was my subtle way of asking if I could come over and make you dinner," Brian said, shooting Renee a wink.

Renee narrowed her eyes and I braced myself for her rejection. When she’d found out about Norah she’d sworn off men for good. I watched her shoot down every attempt at flirtation with detachment.

"I have a huge deadline this week. If you want to come over and cook this Friday, that would be nice."

My jaw unhinged at Renee's acceptance.

"Sounds like a plan. I'll be over here at six-thirty? It takes a while to assemble them."

"I don't know if I’ll be done by then," Renee added, her eyes locked on him.

This was a test. I knew Renee too well. Friday night Trip and Brian were known to party. An early dinner would give them plenty of time to go out and party afterward. Renee wasn't going to make any of this easy for him, but I was proud she was giving him a chance.

"That's fine. Norah can help me in the kitchen so you can get your work done."

"Are you going to come too, Uncle Trip?" Norah asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Norah, Trip’s a busy man. I'm sure he has better things to do on a Friday night, than come eat dinner with us," I said, hoping she’d get the hint and stop scheming.

"Actually, I wouldn't miss a chance for Brian's enchiladas. I'll be here."

“Once again, euphemism? Is there something going on between you two?” I asked, wishing I’d stop talking.

Brian and Trip chuckled and shook their heads.

“He’s not my type,” Brian said, not taking his eyes off Renee.

“He doesn’t like the strong sexy type,” Trip added, flexing his delicious arms.

My back teeth throbbed from being clenched so tight. How was I supposed to start thinking of Trip as a coach if he kept showing up at my house and flexing?

"Do you think that’s a good idea? Being you're my coach and all." My voice sounded squeaky and it made Trip smile wider.

"It's a friendly dinner, Raine. Nothing more. Besides, how can I decline an invitation from such a beautiful girl?" Trip hugged Norah tightly. His eyes locked on mine as if daring me to acknowledge the dinner was something more.

"Come on, Trip, I need to get you to the practice field before I go to the gym."

"See you at practice, Raine. Don't be late." Trip got up and put his plate in the dishwasher before following Brian to the front door. "Oh and, Raine. You might want to change before practice."

I looked down and groaned. I was wearing Trip's jersey and sweatpants. The same thing I had worn to bed since high school. His number and name plastered all over me for him to see.

"Holy shit, I mean shoot. Did Trip Butler just flirt with you?" Renee leaned across the table so her face was in mine.

"No, he's my coach," I gritted out.

"But not for much longer. And why did he have your keys? And why didn't you tell me?" she replied in a sing-song voice.

"He likes you, Aunt Kenna. He really is going to be my Uncle Trip," Norah added.

"Stop. There’s nothing going on between us. I was helping him out. It was friendly."

"If you say so. Just be careful."

"Me, what about you? You just accepted a date from Brian Wright."

Renee shrugged her shoulder and started braiding Norah's hair. This was the tactic Renee used to keep her hands busy when she was mulling something over. Poor Norah had her hair in braids every day when Renee debated whether she should launch her clothing website.

"He was nice and he fixed my sewing machine." Renee stared down at the top of Norah's head. "Don't you have practice?"

I glanced at the clock on my phone and scrambled to get up from the table.

"We’ll talk about this later," I yelled, running into my room and stripping off my clothes with Trip's name on it as I did.