I almost reach for my T-shirt hem to show her, except I still have a single shred of common sense keeping me from being a total idiot. “I work hard and look good.”

She licks her lips and winks at me. “Yeah, baby.”

“Knock it off, TJ.”

She rolls her eyes at her moody brother, and yes, Cooper is definitely in a mood.

Not normal.

Makes me wonder what else is going on with him.

“For realsies,” Tillie Jean says, swirling closer to me now. “How do you not think, Maxy Max, everyone and their mama’s gonna see your junk hanging out and compare it to every other junk they’ve ever seen, and it might not measure up, and they might tell you so?”

“No more alcohol,” Cooper says.

“No, top her off again,” I say. She’s funny right now. I don’t know who I am and what I did with the old Maxy Max, but tipsy TJ is unexpectedly amusing the hell out of me.

In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her drunk.

Over-caffeinated like that night at The Grog, yes. Lightly buzzed, occasionally.

But not drunk.

She doesn’t make a habit of this.

She’s not my father. “And to answer your question, Trouble Jean, I know my junk looks good.”

She squints at me, but only with one eye. Wonder if she’s seeing two of me. “I’ve seen a lot of junk,” she starts, but Cooper cuts her off with a noise that’s somewhere between a grunt and a coyote howl.

“Don’t make me call Mom,” he says.

She blows a raspberry, then whips her phone out of her pocket, loses her grip, and sends it scattering across the floor. “Sham.” Her nose wrinkles. “Dit. Sham. Shap. Doot. Gah. I can’t say cuss words!”

Trevor giggles again, and next thing I know, I’m snickering as I retrieve her phone. “Try fuck.”

“Do not say fuck around my sister,” Cooper growls.

“Duck!” Tillie Jean cries. “Shoop! Kama-chameleon!”

“Llama-ka-leemons!” Trevor agrees.

They both explode in a fit of laughter. I’m grinning as I take the beer glass Cooper hands me. “What’s with the bad mood?” I ask him.

“Nothing.”

Right. Like nothing ever puts Cooper Rock, smiley-happy-annoying one, in a bad mood. “Accidentally hook up with a cousin or something?”

He shudders. “No.”

“Fireballs aren’t trading you, are they?”

“No. Fuck, no. Where’d you hear that?”

“Didn’t. Just don’t know what else would put you in a bad mood.”

He shoots a look at his sister, who’s now sitting on the arm of Trevor’s chair and whispering something to him.

Okay, yeah.

I can see how that would put him in a bad mood.

It’s putting me in a bad mood.

Cooper can’t threaten Trevor with anything if he touches Tillie Jean.

Not if Trevor’s done.

And honestly?

He’s a good dude. If I had a sister, I’d let him date her.

Fuck. Now I’m scowling too. “Where’s Robinson?”

Cooper hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Hot tub.”

“With three of our cousins,” Tillie Jean adds. She hiccups. Then laughs. Then hiccups again. “You should go join him, Growly Bear. Steal all of our cousins away. Make Cooper blow steam out his nostrils. He could stand in for a mascot when Addie’s done chewing him up and spitting him out. Without a costume. He’d be the mascot Cooper Chewed-Up Rock.”

One, I’m twitching at the idea of flirting with any of Cooper’s cousins, but not with Tillie Jean.

Two— “Coach Addie’s giving you shit?”

“She says his swing needs work.” Trevor snorts. “No one ever tells Cooper his swing needs work unless they’re trying to get under his skin.”

Tillie Jean nods. “Well, he did hook up with her baby sister…”

“I did not. Jesus. Does she even have a baby sister? I thought she only had brothers.”

Trevor and TJ both crack up so hard that TJ almost falls off the side of the chair.

Cooper makes his annoyed noise again. “I’m gonna dunk both of you in the hot tub and not feel bad when you drown.”

“She really say your swing’s shit?” I ask.

“She said I have room for improvement and that I don’t trust myself enough. Maybe she wants to show me how to tag a runner out at second next? Maybe how to do a few somersaults? Some flips?”

Huh. I’m laughing. Again. “You gonna get her traded too?”

Tillie Jean snort-laughs. Trevor tilts his head, moves, winces, and leans back again. “You can’t get a coach traded. We get a new catcher yet?”

Cooper grunts.

I grunt in return.

We need a catcher. Heard rumors management was looking at some guys in our minor league affiliate team, but we haven’t heard anything else since Jarvis got traded for a draft pick after the season. People think pitchers are the most valuable part of a team, but we go to shit fast if our catcher isn’t worth a damn.

And Cooper needs a good catcher too, since he’s the one snagging throws from home when runners try to steal second.

“We should consult the mascot cards,” Tillie Jean announces. She lunges for a set of Go, Ash, Go cards on an end table and holds the deck to her forehead. “Meaty the Meatball, tell us who will be the catcher to Max’s naked pitching? Ooooohhhhm… Oooooohhhhmmmm… Ooooohhhmmm…”

“She’s usually so funny,” Cooper mutters.

“She’s very funny,” I tell him. Weird, since drunk people normally annoy me.

“Meaty the Meatball says we must play three rounds of Go, Ash, Go, then do a bat spin race, and he will not tell us who the next Fireballs’ catcher is, but he will tell us we’re doofuses. Hic!”

Her cheeks are flushed pink, and her eyes are the kind of glassy that often puts me on edge, except she’s also smiling.

She’s smiling so bright and happy, like instead of alcohol turning her into an asshole, it’s turning her into a brighter, happier version of herself.

Magnifying what’s already there.

And what’s already there is already fucking spectacular.

I eyeball the beer that I have yet to take a sip of and wonder what too much of it would say about me.

Probably that you’re a fuck-up who would only dim her light, the beer suggests.

Officially decided—I’m not drinking that shit today.

I set it on an end table and hold out a hand to Tillie Jean. “C’mon, then. Let’s see if you’re right. Hundred bucks says I kick your ass in this game.”

“Two hundred. And a back rub.” She winks. “You’re gonna make me empty my entire piggy bank today, Max Cole.”

Cooper growls.

I snort and dig deep for what I hope is a convincing, “Dude. You think I’m gonna touch your sister?”

He gestures to her. “She’s the best you’re gonna get here, so yeah.”

“Not true.” TJ’s dancing again as she slides out of yet another chair. “Dita’s a tiger in the sheets. Which you’d know. Mrow.”

I wouldn’t put it past Cooper to be into one of the older ladies around here, but the way he spits his beer out in horror makes it pretty clear he’s never considered that as an option. “I’m calling Mom.”