Uh, what? How was she supposed to answer a question like that when she didn’t even know what he was talking about? “I, um…”

Thankfully, Adam intervened. “She’s fine. We did some shoulder work on Friday. That’s why she’s sore.”

“Oh? What part of the shoulder did you work on?” Michael asked, his interest piqued. “The superior angle of the scapula?”

“Yep. And the upper trapezius, which extends in an inferolateral direction.”

Preslee blinked rapidly, her brain fuzzing as she tried to absorb this information. But trying to follow their rapid-fire conversation was pointless and absolutely maddening. What were they talking about? Were they even speaking English anymore? Because it sure as hell didn’t sound like it.

Michael continued using medical jargon she didn’t understand. “She pointed to her shoulder blade. If that’s where it’s sore, then that could be the pain pattern of the C5–6 level in cervical discography or from the zygapophyseal joint. Did you consider that?”

Adam shook his head. “What do I look like—an idiot? Of course I did. But if she continues to be sore, I will show her how to lie down and massage her infraspinatus with a tennis ball. It’ll make her feel better.”

Whoa! Wait a minute. Preslee didn’t know what they were saying, but she held up a hand to stop them from going any further. “Time out. You want me to massage my what with a tennis ball?” she asked incredulously.

Both men chuckled, but she didn’t care. At least they weren’t arguing anymore.

Adam smiled as he offered up an explanation. “Your infraspinatus muscle is one of four muscles that form your rotator cuff.” Then he laughed again. “What did you think I was talking about?”

She giggled. “I didn’t have a clue. Actually, I wasn’t sure you did either.”

He shrugged. “I’m a personal trainer, Preslee. It’s my job to know about muscles and how they work. Not to mention, I have more training than most in my field.”

Michael snorted. “Careful, brother. Those medical school roots are showing.”

Preslee blinked at Adam. “You went to medical school?”

Adam cut his brother a displeased look before gazing at her. “Yeah.”

“B-but you aren’t a doctor?”

“No.”

Michael laughed. “His handwriting is way too legible for that.”

Adam cleared his throat. “I attended medical school for a short time. But I…dropped out.”

Michael chimed in. “Yeah, Mom and Dad weren’t happy with you when—”

“Shut up,” Adam said, glaring at his older brother. “The last thing I want to discuss is our parents and how I’m a disappointment to them.”

Preslee’s eyes widened. Well, so much for them not arguing anymore. They’d almost gotten along for a whole thirty seconds.

Michael sighed. “Adam, I wasn’t—”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Just leave it alone.”