Caught Up (Windy City, #3)

by Liz Tomforde

The mental picture of him in Wranglers, much in the way he wears his baseball pants, is doing all sorts of things to my imagination. “Miller.” “Hmm?” “You’re sexualizing me in your mind right now, aren’t you?” “Absolutely.”

I hold my hand up in a small wave to the back of the plane. “Miller,” I say, introducing myself. “Hot Nanny works too.” “No, it doesn’t,” Kai says, loud enough for the entire team to hear him.

“Miller, right?” asks a woman with blue-green eyes and curly hair. I hold my hand up in a small wave. “That’s me. The nanny he wasn’t allowed to fire and is now sleeping with.” A man with equally vibrant eyes chokes on his drink. “Yep. I like her,” says the first man with the tattoos.

Rio sighs. “You’re right. I didn’t. I just want to find somebody to love me. Is that really so much to ask for?” “Aw, Rio,” Indy coos. “I love you.” “Thanks, Ind. At least somebody does.” “So do I,” Stevie pipes up. “I love you too, man,” Zanders adds from the head of the table. Rio looks right to Ryan. “And Ryan, what about you?” Ryan glances around the table, pretending to have missed the entire conversation. “What are we talking about?”

“God, Miller, you try so hard to keep yourself detached. To live this lonely life, and I don’t fucking get it.”

“Miller,” he says, making sure my attention is on him. “If you ever decide to stop running and make a home…” His eyes are begging, pleading. “Make it with me.”

Having someone else to take care of while your heart is breaking is an odd relief. You want to wallow in self-pity but can’t because someone else is relying on you.

“I’m not telling you what you should or shouldn’t do with your life. I just don’t want you to be so afraid to fail at something new that it keeps you from finding your happiness when you’re the reason I found mine.”

I turn back to my brother. “Take the fucking ring off before you go sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to your nephew. Miller can’t find out about this today. I’m proposing tonight and the last thing I need is for my brother to steal her thunder over a drunken mistake.” “Mistake seems harsh,” he counters. “I like the term, ‘happy accident.’” “Is that what Kennedy is calling it?” “Oh, no. She definitely called it a mistake.”