“Ray-yin!” he shouts, running toward her. “Mar-ry Dad-dy,” he singsongs in his toddler voice.

  He thinks this is all some fantastic game and starts to point up to all the hanging votives.

  “Lights!” he shouts.

  “Yes, lights. Daddy hung those for me,” Raelynn says, reaching down to ruffle his curls.

  Caleb jumps around underneath them, clapping his hands as if trying to catch the lights.

  “C’mon you two!” Kayla calls. “We have celebrating to do!”

  “I already poured shots!” Anthony adds.

  We walk over to join the group with Caleb between us, and everyone rushes in to congratulate us. Raelynn’s friends all pull her into tight hugs. Leanna, Kayla, Julia, and Eva take turns oohing and aahing over her ring.

  “He did good, right?” Kayla proclaims proudly. “I convinced him to go bigger. Why half-ass it, you know? Give the girl a diamond with a capital D.”

  The guys congratulate me too. Well…Trey and Ryan do. Anthony, on the other hand, starts offering me his deepest condolences as if he isn’t about to follow right in my footsteps. I’m calling it now—this time next year, he’ll be walking down the aisle to Kayla. No doubt about it.

  “I call dibs on maid of honor!” Kayla shouts to the group.

  “That’s not how it works!” Julia protests.

  “Exactly,” Leanna adds calmly, as if the whole argument is beneath her. Then she unfurls a devious smile. “Besides, everyone knows it’ll be me.”

  Through the laughter and chaos, Raelynn looks over to me and smiles. She thinks the surprises are over, but in an hour, after we tuck Caleb into bed and leave him in the care of Nina and Donna, I’ll roll out the two suitcases Nina helped me pack in secret yesterday afternoon. Hermann will be waiting out front to drive us to the airport. We have first-class seats on an overnight flight to Tromsø, Norway. I’m taking Raelynn to see the Northern Lights as an engagement present, and I can’t wait to see her reaction when she finds out.

  “I love you,” she mouths.

  “I love you too.”

  Caleb—who’s been eating up all the attention from everyone—fights through the crowd to get to Raelynn and tugs on her leg so she’ll pick him up. He drops his head to her shoulder, sucking his thumb into his mouth, a little intimidated by the crowd of people. My chest tightens as I watch them together. It’s hard to believe how lucky I am.

  “Okay, now that we’ve all seen the huge ring and congratulated the lovebirds, who’s ready for a shot?! Leanna?” Kayla asks, nudging her with her elbow.

  Leanna snorts. “No way! I have to go put Amara down in a second.”

  Kayla groans. “Ryan?”

  “No way.”

  “Okay fine—Caleb?”

  “No!” we all shout.

  She throws her hands in the air. “Guys, I was kidding!”

  Epilogue

  Raelynn

  Early on a Saturday morning, while the rest of the neighborhood sleeps, our family of six heads to the park. Ben and I stroll slowly, sipping our now-lukewarm coffee while our four kids scoot, bike, and toddle along on the sidewalk in front of us. Caleb, who’s nearly seven, leads the pack, pedaling his bike to and fro, doing circles around us and teasing about what “slowpokes” we are. Levi and Hayden, who are five and three, try their hardest to keep up with Caleb on their scooters, wanting to be as fast and cool and awesome as their older brother. Our youngest, a little girl with blonde ringlet curls, is barely a year old and holds Ben’s hand as she walks, still trying to get the hang of it. We named her Millie, after Nan.

  She stumbles a little bit as she walks, but Ben keeps a strong hold on her so she can keep right on going. Even still, Levi jumps off his scooter and comes running to check on her. With three older brothers, Millie is never in need of a hero.

  The boys begged and begged me for a baby sister, and I would laugh and tell them I had my hands full already. Three boys have a way of keeping you on your toes at all times, but in the end, they got their wish. One last surprise pregnancy and here we are, a family of six.

  Ben still plays in the NBA, but he and I have discussed this being his final season. He’s accomplished all he’s wanted to with the league, and he hates having to miss so much time with our family while he’s out on the road. Before Caleb was in school, we’d travel as much as we could with him, but those years were hard. Levi and Hayden were both so little, and Caleb too. Donna would travel with me—we’ve become so close because of it—and I was happy to do it until Caleb needed to be in school every day and I got pregnant with Millie. My last pregnancy made me sick as a dog from the time I was six weeks to the night I delivered. Travel wasn’t possible unless it was merely from my bed to the toilet.

  “I’m going to call Coach today,” Ben says as we round the corner and see the park up ahead.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “To talk about the upcoming season.”

  Millie turns and buries her head in my legs. I pass my coffee off to Ben and swing her up into my arms.

  “Just about the schedule?” I’m confused about why he’s telling me he has a call with Coach. They talk all the time. At this point, Ben’s played for him for over a decade, and they’re good friends.

  “I’m not going back.”

  I stutter-step and my gaze flies up to him. “What do you mean you’re not going back?”

  He smiles, and even though it carries a note of sadness, especially near his eyes, he mostly looks relieved.

  “I can’t leave you and the kids again. Not like last season. I’ve been wavering back and forth, but it’s just too hard.”

  “But basketball is your life.”

  He tilts his head, aiming a glare at me that screams, Are you kidding?

  “You and the kids are my life.”

  It’s impossible to keep my chest from filling with hope.

  “Are you sure?”

  I don’t want to get used to the idea if his mind isn’t completely made up. The last few years have been too hard. I had Millie and a few short weeks later, Ben was back on the road for basketball. I wouldn’t have survived without Donna and Nina.

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  “But what are you going to do?”

  He shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about coaching. But honestly, for right now, all I care about is being with you guys. School drop-off, tee-ball practice, all of it. I can’t do that while I’m traveling half the year.”

  I’m embarrassed that I’m crying. The tears sprang up on me so suddenly I can’t possibly hide them from him. This decision has weighed so heavily on me, and I’ve tried to be a team player. I haven’t burdened Ben with my complaints, and even now, I try my best to encourage him even at the expense of my own happiness.

  “You could do the final year? The fans will be so upset to lose you.”

  He frowns, almost angrily, as he sees the tears swimming in my eyes. Does he realize how much I’ve kept from him?

  “I’ve given this city enough of me.”

  I nod, understanding.

  “This will free us up a lot. Especially you.” His gaze holds me captive as he continues, “You’ll be able to take that part-time position with Professor Olmsted.”

  My mouth drops. “How did you—”

  “I saw the email you printed out. On our desk. Were you going to tell me about it?” he asks, sounding sad more than accusing.

  I look away and shake my head.

  I didn’t want to bring it up because I was never going to actually go through with it. Not this year. We were going to prioritize Ben’s last season with the team, and my dreams were going to have to wait a little longer. I hate that I had to step back from my work after I finished my PhD, but I had no other choice. With all the traveling, there was no way for me to maintain a position at Caltech, not to mention all my back-to-back pregnancies. We’ve been busy building our family, and I was okay with that. More than okay. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than with my family.

  But still, I printed out that email because it was the only thing I could do with it. I wanted to ensure it was real, that I was still a human with interests and pursuits outside of my role as a mom and wife. That my identity as a woman of science still existed, at least on that thin piece of paper.

  I shake my head. “It’s silly. I know we’ve got our hands full as it is.”

  “Birdie…”

  The park comes into view up ahead, and the boys ditch their bikes and scooters to run for the playground. Millie squirms and I let her down on the grass so she can toddle after them. Ben and I keep walking until we’re close enough to keep an eye out as they play together, but far enough away to continue our conversation.

  “I’ve already talked it over with Donna,” Ben says. “With the boys in daycare and Caleb in school, that only leaves Millie. Donna and I can watch her in the mornings while you’re at Caltech. You’d be back before she woke up from her afternoon nap. That’s nothing.”

  God, is this really possible?

  Could I?

  “Do you miss your work?” he asks, trying to goad me into speaking.

  Of course.

  I swallow down my guilt. I have so much; I shouldn’t need anything else.

  He passes me my coffee and we’re quiet for a bit while we watch the kids play. Caleb helps Millie go up the stairs, and Hayden is clapping his hands and cheering her on at the top.

  When Ben speaks up again, I’m surprised to realize we’ve been thinking about the same thing.

  “Do you remember the night I confronted you about you leaving Caltech to move home to Pine Hill?”

  I nod mutely.

  “You remember how pissed I was?” he asks with a soft chuckle.

  “I seem to remember doing a good bit of yelling too,” I tease.

  “True. You’ve always been stubborn, but I’ll say to you now what I said to you then.” He reaches out to take my hand, forcing me to look over at him. “Let me help you,” he implores, his voice low and tempting.

  Emotion tightens my throat, and all I can do is nod, over and over as he pulls me into a tight hug.

  “We’ll plan it with Donna when we get home. We’ll iron out the details and you’ll take the position, Birdie.”

  “I’ll take the position,” I affirm, nodding.

  He kisses my hair. “Good. Now let’s go show these kids how to race down that slide.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “You’re going to get stuck again! Remember last time? I thought we were going to have to get the fire department down here to cut you free.”

  “Sure, sure. Keep making up excuses. You know I’m going to beat you.”

  I casually set down my coffee on the grass and then, without warning, start running toward the slide to beat him there. In seconds, he’s on me, picking me up and whirling me around while I break out into laughter. The kids all come running, laughing and playing along.

  “Put Mommy down!”

  “Don’t hurt Mommy!”

  Levi pummels Ben’s thighs with his little fists. “Let her go!”

  Ben laughs and squeezes me tighter.

  “I’m not hurting her. Don’t you guys realize? Your mommy has me wrapped around her finger. Always has…” He sets me down and turns me so he can look me square in the eyes as he finishes, “Always will.”

  I hope you loved Ben and Birdie! Continue reading for a sample of my USA Today Bestseller and Amazon #1 bestselling sports romance SCORING WILDER!

  * * *

  SYNOPSIS

  What started out as a joke— seduce Coach Wilder—soon became a goal she had to score.

  * * *

  With Olympic tryouts on the horizon, the last thing nineteen-year-old Kinsley Bryant needs to add to her plate is Liam Wilder. He's a professional soccer player, America's favorite bad-boy, and has all the qualities of a skilled panty-dropper.

  * * *

  • A face that makes girls weep – check.

  • Abs that can shred Parmesan cheese (the expensive kind) – check.

  • Enough confidence to shift the earth’s gravitational pull – double check.

  * * *

  Not to mention Liam is strictly off limits. Forbidden. Her coaches have made that perfectly clear. (i.e. “Score with Coach Wilder anywhere other than the field and you’ll be cut from the team faster than you can count his tattoos.”) But that just makes him all the more enticing…Besides, Kinsley's already counted the visible ones, and she is not one to leave a project unfinished.

  * * *

  Kinsley tries to play the game her way as they navigate through forbidden territory, but Liam is determined to teach her a whole new definition for the term “team bonding.”

  Chapter 1

  Cheat on me once, shame on him. Cheat on me twice...what the actual fuck is going on? How in the world have I managed to find my last two boyfriends cheating on me? No, not together. Although, that would have been much more poetic, and at least they could have included me or something.

  The reality was much worse.

  “Wow. What a treat to walk in on,” I noted harshly as I stood in the doorway of Josh's bedroom. Josh and the nameless bimbo screamed and jumped apart on his bed, causing his navy sheets to tumble to the ground. His brown eyes found mine, and for one brief second, I mourned the loss of his warm gaze, but then my field of vision widened and I was slapped with the sad scene before me.

  My boyfriend of four months was cheating on me. No, scratch that. My friend of four years, turned boyfriend of four months, was cheating on me.

  “Oh, no. Please, don't stop on my account. I'm only his girlfriend,” I hissed at the girl, trying to calm my temper. I was known to be feisty on a good day, so that was hardly brushing the surface for me.

  Josh's dark brown hair was ruffled from the girl’s hands. His sharp features were pitiful, but still handsome. I barely glanced in the girl's direction. Platinum blonde hair was the only feature I noticed. Probably because it was bright enough to burn through my corneas. First, she steals my boyfriend, and then she renders me visionless. Just great.

  Is my judgment of character so misaligned that I can't spot the good guys from the bad? No. It's just the fact that I happen to go for guys that can't keep tramps out of their pants. You know the type: young and insanely good-looking.

  “Kinsley! It's not—”

  “What it looks like,” I finished for him. “Wow, Josh. You know Trey said the same thing, but he didn't have that look of anguish you've got going on right now. Seriously, good work.” I applauded him with a hard stare. My claps rang out around the room, and I realized then that it was time for me to leave.

  It was a different guy, a different girl, but there was that same twisting sensation in my gut like I was about to keel over on the spot. I spun around and flipped them both the bird before heading back toward the living room to grab my purse.

  I heard shuffling and awkward grunts behind me, but I didn't turn around.

  “Josh, where are you going? Let her go, we aren't done!” Oh good, she hadn't had her orgasm yet. Maybe my timing wasn't all that bad.

  “Kinsley! Wait!” Josh yelled behind me. Did he think we were in the middle of a telenovela?

  “Josh, it's over. Don't bother,” I said as I threw my purse over my shoulder.

  His hand reached out to clasp mine, and I had to actively fight the urge to punch his dick off. Seriously, is it that hard to stay faithful? Are men physically incapable?

  “Kinsley! I love you. I love you!” He spun me around, holding the bed sheet up with his right hand and clasping my arm with the other. His eyes were wild, and for a brief moment, I believed him.

  Oh god. He did it. He went there. And you know what the sad thing is? I don't even think he was giving me a line. I think the poor schmuck actually thought that he loved me.

  “Well, if that's how you show your love I can't imagine the elaborate things you do for your parents.”

  “Please—hear me out. This meant nothing.”

  I wasn't listening. I was already building a wall between us. “Thank you, Josh. Thank you for ruining my capacity to trust so that any guy that comes after you will automatically have the cards stacked against him.”

  Josh had stolen another chunk of my heart, my naiveté, my innocence, and smashed it under his perfectly toned body. When I met him I was on my way to feeling jaded to the whole dating process. I'd already been cheated on once by my boyfriend of six months, Trey, who also happened to be the guy that had taken my virginity. (I know, I know. They should make a hallmark card for that experience since it’s so cliché: “Whoops, sorry your high school boyfriend can’t keep it in his pants… here’s a cute puppy wearing a bowtie.”)

  But now? Now I was about ten miles past jaded. It was time to trade in my designer dresses for patterned muumuus and house slippers. Maybe I could join a support group for divorcées over fifty. You know, those women that decide they don't need men to be happy. They'll just knit, take group trips to the Caribbean, and say things like “I always wanted to go out to eat, but Jeff insisted I cook for him. I'm going out to eat every night now, damnit!”

  Only problem: I'm eighteen. They'd probably think I was trying to be an ironic hipster.

  Whatever, I'd figure it out.

  Josh kept calling my name as I walked out of his apartment. A huge part of me wanted to trash everything in my path, but he was moving the next day and I didn't think it'd be right to screw over his landlord. Instead, I just flipped my brown hair over my shoulder and relished in the fact that my legs looked killer in my cut-off shorts.