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In a rare and likely brief moment of calm at Rosewood Medical Group's physical therapy office, Raelyn DeRose plopped herself into the chair behind her desk and put her feet up.

Unable to fully finish her dramatic sigh of relief, the three-bell chime of her phone went off, letting her know that Amala Jones was sending her yet another wedding-related email.

Amala was the little sister of Raelyn's best friend, Amira Jones, who was getting married at the end of July.

While it had originally been her plan to assign Raelyn the maid of honor position, Indian tradition dictated that Amira put family first, so Amala got the job instead.

Not that Raelyn was complaining really; she was just as involved in the wedding planning process, but without the pressure, and she didn't have to worry about giving a toast in front of five hundred guests- a small wedding by Diya Jones's standards, but it would have to do.

Amira was determined to put together a wedding that was the perfect blend of American and Indian tradition.

She would wear ivory rather than red, but her dress was a two-piece, adorned with embroidered patterns that were traditionally found on an Indian lehenga .

She had even tried to fit the groom for an Indian sherwani , but somehow the tall, freckled, and red-haired Brody Kalahan just didn't look quite right in something so obviously…

not Irish. He wasn't opposed to the elaborate and expensive sword that typically went with the outfit, though.

Raelyn believed the most recent argument was how ridiculous Brody wo uld look in a tux holding a sword, but somehow she thought Amira was going to lose that battle. Men and weapons, what could you do?

Raelyn put her feet back down and logged into her computer to check Amala's email titled "Bachelorette Party Itinerary.

" Raelyn clicked the email open and began to read quietly to herself.

"Wedding is Coming- He bent the knee to his queen and now we prepare ourselves for The Long Night," Raelyn grinned as she continued.

Of course Amira would have a Game of Thrones themed party; she had always made a big event of watching the show while it was still running.

She would drag all of her girlfriends, sisters, and cousins to her house on Sunday nights to indulge in too much food as they all sat back and watched scenes of dragons, heads getting chopped off, and high-born lords having serious, conspiratorial conversations in rooms filled with naked women.

Raelyn scanned the itinerary, wondering how similar her own bachelorette party would have been if her engagement last year hadn't taken a flying leap off the Mackinac Bridge and into the shallow bank of Lake Michigan.

It was for the best, she reminded herself as the thought popped into her head.

She now had much more time to focus on her career, and to spend with her girlfriends.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Raelyn groaned as she read the final piece of the itinerary.

Invite your kings, princes, or your wildlings. Brody and his King's Guard will be joining us for a bonfire to cap the night off.

Raelyn's Bernese Mountain Dog, Harry, rested his large head in her lap, sensing her distress as she let out another groan, re-reading the line to make sure she had read it right.

She placed her hand on Harry's head and gave him a few scratches behind his ears.

Surely Brody's "King's Guard" meant his groomsmen, and his groomsmen would of course include the best man .

Raelyn typically wasn't opposed to the men joining in their events.

She didn't have a problem socializing with men in general; as a matter of fact, her closest friends growing up were all boys and she often enjoyed the opportunity to get lost in conversations about MLB or NFL draft picks, March Madness, fantasy leagues, or any other athletic event under the sun.

Her girlfriends always seemed to glaze over in disinterest when she tried to bring up the sports world with them.

No, the problem here was that the best man would now show up with his perfect sandy blonde hair, his perfect beard trimmed just the right amount, his perfectly bulging biceps in a shirt that would show off his beautifully sculpted form, and absolutely ruin her night.

The best man, AKA Emerson Yates, was a dangerously sexy, seductive, combative, manipulative son of a bitch. He was also Raelyn’s ex-fiancé.

This was the night she had been looking forward to since Brody had proposed, knowing her best friend was going to go all out for her girls to celebrate the end of an era, and the dawn of a new stage in her life.

Of course she was also looking forward to the wedding, but as the best man was going to have to be there, she would inevitably spend the night dodging his attempts to get back in her good graces. Or just back in her bed.

As if hearing her anguish from across the parking lot that separated Rosewood's physical therapy offices from the women's center, Raelyn's phone rang and Amira's picture lit up the screen.

"Oh my God, Rae, I am so sorry!" Amira said by way of greeting. "I didn't realize Amala was going to send that before we got off work. I told her I would talk to you at lunch and break the news that the men-folk would be joining us later on. Do you hate me?"

"No, of course not," Raelyn said, rubbing Harry's ears again. "We're going to have to see each other eventually. It's fine, Amira, really."

"I told Brody he needed to pick someone else to be his best man, but he told me I was being ridiculous ,” Amira scoffed at the last word.

Raelyn grimaced. "How did that go over? Seems a little risky so close to the big day. "

Amira laughed dryly. "Oh, he'll pay for it somehow. I haven't decided how to punish him yet, but it'll come."

"Seriously, Amira, don't go punishing him on my behalf. Besides, we kind of expected him to pick Emerson. They’ve been best friends since law school and they work together now.

Really, we should be grateful your mom insisted on Amala being your maid of honor, or else I'd be walking down the aisle with my ex-fiancé.

" Raelyn cringed inwardly at the image in her head.

" That would have been a disaster," Amira agreed.

In an attempt to move the topic away from her and Emerson and onto literally anything else, Raelyn said, "By the way, I'm loving the Game of Thrones theme for your party. Do we get to carry swords? Because that might make the whole evening more entertaining."

Amira laughed, amused. "Sure, I'll find you a Longclaw replica stat."

"Replica?" said Raelyn, "If I'm going to be facing my ex again after what he did, I want the real deal."

"Ah, yes, let's give you endless tequila shots and a sword. That jackass won't stand a chance," Amira said dreamily.

Harry's tail wagged at the sound of Raelyn's laughter.

He had always been such an intuitive dog, even as a puppy.

He always seemed to sense anyone's change in mood and was able to address it accordingly, making him the perfect office dog.

Every now and then the other attached offices would borrow Harry to help ease high anxiety patients, kids, or patients who had just been delivered bad news.

There was a light knock on the door and Alexis, the petite office secretary came sweeping in with an armful of mail.

Alexis had fair skin and a sheet of long, straight, flaming red hair.

Wearing a high-waisted emerald green pencil skirt with a classic black shirt, Alexis always looked styled to perfection, all the way down to her matching emerald heels.

The secretary placed the stack of mail on Raelyn's desk. "Alexis, you don't have to get my mail for me. "

"Be grateful," Amira said on the other end of the phone. "Our office secretary just takes Snapchat selfies all day."

"Thank you," Raelyn said to Alexis, and she began sorting through the stack of papers, magazines, and catalogues.

Alexis shrugged. "Oh, it's no problem. I needed to stretch." The corners of her mouth pulled up in an attempt to conceal a grin. "And that hot nurse doing his clinicals with Dr. Huang was walking by."

"Get that girl hooked up!" Amira shouted, clearly listening in.

Raelyn laughed. "I'll see what I can do, though I doubt she needs my help attracting attention."

Alexis grinned with confidence. "Thanks, Dr. DeRose." And with that, she left the office, closing the door behind her.

Raelyn was still sifting through the mail on her desk when the cover of her newest Sports Illustrated magazine caught her attention. She gasped, "Oh my God.” Flattening the magazine on top of the rest of the mail she said, "Amira, have you seen this?"

Sounding confused Amira replied, "Um, seen what?"

Raelyn read the headline in red over the close-up picture of the famous ball player, "'Hard Hitter Quinn Casey Exiting Early? What does this mean for the Kings of L.A?'"

"Wait, 'hard hitter' is referring to baseball, right? Not some weird sex euphemism?"

“Yes, it’s baseball," Raelyn laughed under her breath. "They've been in the past four World Series Championships and they've won three out of four of them, so they've been referring to them as the kings of Los Angeles.”

Raelyn studied the cover, looking at the handsome features of Quinn Casey's face in deep concentration.

His sharp jawline and light brown eyes, almost golden, staring back into hers.

There was more than a five o'clock shadow peppering his strong, square jaw, but it suited him, along with his dark brown hair just visible beneath a royal blue baseball cap.

Raelyn felt a tug in her chest, and warmth spread through her, down between her legs as she studied his intense face .

A flash of memories played through Raelyn's mind: The first time she saw him throw a baseball, Quinn teaching her how to swing a bat, spending hours in the fort they'd built in the basement at her parents' house, watching the same movies over and over, the two of them jumping and coming together in an awkward pre-teen embrace after winning a neighborhood game at the park.

They had been so young and could barely go a day without seeing each other- at least until the night of their high school graduation.

Staring back into his intense gaze, she wondered when he had gotten this hot. Sure, he’d always been attractive, but now? He was practically a sex symbol waiting for a line of bad puns to be spewed about his bat and his ballpark.

Amira's voice snapped her back to her office, and Raelyn swallowed, telling herself the warmth she felt between her legs was simply because she was going through a bit of a dry spell where men were concerned.

"Quinn Casey? Why does that name sound so familiar?" Amira asked.

"Remember? Our local, hometown sports hero.

..We were friends when we were kids," Raelyn said, a furrow creasing her brow as she continued to study the magazine cover.

"I wonder why he'd be leaving early. I mean, he's on a roll, and I can't see them selling someone who's such an asset to their team…

I read something about him ditching his baseball career for a modeling gig.

" Raelyn laughed to herself at the thought of the Quinn Casey she knew leaving the sport he loved to pose half-naked for designer magazines. “I thought it was just a ridiculous rumor, but he’s certainly changed since we were friends.”

"Oh, that's right!" Amira said, recognition dawning, "He's that super hot one who's always in People magazine with Victoria's Secret models. I actually bought a copy of Men's Health because his picture was just...breathtaking. I couldn't pass it up."

"Yeah, that's the one," said Raelyn, feeling a little annoyed at the mention of all the different models he'd been seen with .

"Didn't he blow you off when you met up in college?" Amira asked, now in full-fledged gossip mode. "You guys were supposed to catch up but then he ended up having sex in the booth instead?"

"They did not have sex in the bar booth," Raelyn said flatly.

"Maybe not, but I guarantee they didn't go far before tearing each other's clothes off."

"Right," Raelyn sighed, trying to ignore the memories from that night and the new images forming in her head.

"I can't say I blame her, whoever she was," Amira said. "Now that I remember who you're talking about, the Men's Health issue was phenomenal, but he was in the Sports Illustrated Body Issue last year, and I have to say I would definitely give his bat a swing."

"Amira!"

"I wouldn't mind taking him to third base," she continued.

"Oh sweet mother, please stop the puns!"

"I'd handle his foul balls."

"Ew!" Raelyn couldn't help laughing now.

"If he's the pitcher, I'll gladly be the catcher."

"First off, you're getting married," Raelyn interjected, "And second, you're a gynecologist. If you've seen all those magazine photos of him with countless women who have probably been with countless men, you might want to think again about that fantasy."

"Ah, well, a girl can dream," Amira sighed. "But I really do have to get going, I have a patient in the waiting room."

"I should get ready for my next patient, too," said Raelyn.

Just before she could hang up, Amira said, "You're really okay about Emerson being at the bonfire? I can totally kick him out- it is my party."

"It really is fine," Raelyn said. "Besides, making a big deal about it would only make it seem like I'm not over it, which I am. I'm still mad at him and probably always will be, but I'm glad we're not getting married."

With that, Raelyn wrapped up her call and hung up. She set her phone on her desk, now holding the magazine with both hands. She studied the once-familiar face again before flipping to the page with the cover story.