I live with a four-year-old.
I locked gazes with him for a moment before I looked down at my cleats, trying to figure out why they weighed so much.
"Perfect. Coach, this is Claire Hoffer, our first string pitcher, and McKenna Raine, our backup. Girls, why don't you go out to the pitching area and get started."
My cheeks flooded red as Claire stood in front of me. I followed Claire's feet, not looking up from my own.
"All right, let's warm up." His southern drawl had my shoulders tensing even higher. "How about a light jog? I'll run with you."
That got my attention. "You shouldn't be running with your arm in a sling."
"Shut up, Raine," Claire hissed as she straightened her already perfect ponytail.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked, his monster-colored blue eyes on me.
"Your arm. You shouldn't be running with it in a sling."
"Thanks for the worries, darlin’, but I'll be fine. I'll take the sling off if you want.”
"No, that's not what I want. You’re going to ruin your chances of getting back with the Pappies if you don't take care of yourself."
His smile faded and he stepped closer to me. "And as a pitcher how do you know what I should be doing with my injury? What are you, some first year nursing student?"
I smiled at him and stepped closer. "I'm finishing my PHD in PT with an emphasis on sports. I'm the person who’d be treating you if I took cases like you, where the patient didn't care about healing."
He rocked back on his heels as we glared at each other.
"How's everything going?" Coach Mae asked, noticing our standoff as the rest of the team ran laps.
"Just fine," Trip yelled back, his jaw tensed, his attention not moving from me. "It seems I won't be joining you for your run. Get to it." He pointed to the far end of the field, and Claire and I took off.
"Why would you talk to him like that?" she panted as we hit the wall and turned back around.
"Because he's the best pitcher I’ve ever seen. His stats are perfect. I can't stand around and let him ruin his career over a stupid injury."
"Whatever, do what you want. In fact, let him get mad at you. I'll get all the attention."
"He's our coach, Hoffer. And you’re the player. We can't be anything but that, so why do you want his attention?"
It was a stupid thing to say because ever since I noticed the male species, getting Trip's attention was all I wanted. I just never thought there would be a chance I’d actually meet him.
"All right, let me see what you have," Trip said as soon as our feet were back in the pitching field.
Claire grabbed her glove and a bucket of balls as she made her way toward center field. I went to the other side so I could practice pitching away from Trip and his sexy annoying self.
"Wait, I want to see what the second stringer has first."
My eyes narrowed as I spun around to glare at him. He lifted an eyebrow as Hoffer's glove landed on her hip.
"Fine." I stalked over to where Claire was and pushed my shoulders back. If he wanted to see what I had, I’d show him. My first pitch was wild and showed him I shouldn’t be pitching. Claire didn't bother hiding her laugh behind me.
"Again." Trip's voice cut into Claire's amusement.
"Shouldn't Hoffer be practicing since she's the first string?" I pointed to Claire, who was now glaring at me.
I had stayed out of the drama too long to be pulled into it now.
"Shouldn't you be listening to me since I'm the coach? Now concentrate."
