The Right Move (Windy City, #2)

by Liz Tomforde

I’m not a dreamer. Not in the traditional sense, at least. My dreams are within reach, attainable moments in time, not romanticized notions of the impossible.

And as of last week, I earned the title and am now the newest captain of the Devils, Chicago’s NBA team.

I need my guys to take this game as seriously as I do. I need them to live, eat, and breathe it the way I do if we’re going to have a shot this season, but how do I voice that without sounding like the controlling point guard they’ve come to know me as?

“What’s up? Tired of Zanders already? You ready to move back in?” “Ha-ha,” my sister says dryly. “Not a chance. I’m obsessed with that guy.” My lips quirk in a proud smile.

He lights my sister up like I’ve never seen before, allowing her to own who she is with confidence. Hard to hate the guy when he’s the best thing to happen to your favorite person. And I’m not going to lie, he’s become a good friend of mine as well.

Yes, moving in with my best friend’s brother sounds like a plot pulled straight from one of my favorite romance novels. Not to mention, said brother is Ryan Shay—basketball superstar who looks like he just walked out of one of my wet dreams. But more important than all that is… “Because he hates me.”

I can’t help but allow the smile to pull at my lips, thinking of living across the street from my old coworker and her boyfriend. I love them together, and I got a front-row seat to watch their relationship unfold last hockey season. As much as I’m going to miss having her on the road this year, I’m glad she and Zanders don’t have to hide their relationship any longer. Love like that shouldn’t be hidden away.

guess in part, I’m still convincing myself that being back in Chicago is a good idea. Every corner, every building, every street reminds me of him. That’s what happens when you spend your entire life loving one person. Every memory includes them. And now I’m left grieving a version of my life that no longer exists.

“Ready as I’ll ever be with a completely green crew. Watching hockey boys strip down every flight won’t be the same without you.”

His place is spotless and minimalistic. Black and white with no pops of color in sight—besides my wardrobe currently skewed across his living room as I attempt to organize. Attempt being the key word here. I’ve been to this apartment a handful of times since I met Stevie, but it never looked this empty and…lonely. Stevie is as bright as I am. I guess all the color left when she did.

I’ve met Ryan twice. Once he was shirtless and the other time, he was in casual clothes at a bar. But right now? In a fitted suit? Jesus Christ, I can’t live here.

His light brown skin and freckles match his twin sister, but I can guarantee I’ve never looked at Stevie the way I’m staring at her brother right now. Licking my lips, my eyes wander over his hair—chestnut and freshly faded on the sides with a bit of the Shay signature curls on top.

Ryan and Stevie’s mom is a white woman with freckled skin, blue eyes, and copper hair. Their dad is a black man, tall with a head of dark curls. The Shay twins are a combination of both their parents, but Ryan and Stevie seem to have inherited all the same attributes.

I’ve blurted it out both times we’ve met, but Ryan Shay is hot. He might be a robot, but he’s the s...

“Coffee? It’d be nice to get to know the person I’m living with. Who knows, maybe we’ll even be friends?” His eyes narrow. “Okay, no friends.”

“Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t want you here. I didn’t ask for you to move in, and the only reason you’re here is because you’re my sister’s friend and I’m the reason she doesn’t have very many. I like my space, and if it were my choice, I’d be living alone. So, no, Indiana, we’re not going to be friends. We’re going to coexist in the same apartment until you can find yourself a different situation while I fulfill my brotherly duty.”

Fuck. Sinking my forehead to the back of my door, I close my eyes with regret. That was mean and I didn’t intend to be. In fact, the entire walk up here I kept reminding myself to be nice, trying to come up with some stupid greeting to say to her for the first time.

But then I saw her standing there barefoot in the middle of my living room, wearing a sweatshirt so oversized I’m still not convinced she’s got anything on underneath. Her blonde hair was in a braid flowing over her shoulder, but most of the pieces were pulled out in a frazzled mess. Her brown eyes were softer than I remember and that just pissed me off.

I knew she was pretty. I’m not blind, but there’s no way she was as beautiful as they recalled. I was certain they played it up in their minds. They didn’t.

I’m not easily distracted, but if I could manifest my perfect distraction, it’d look a lot like her.

AHHHHHHHH!!!

This apartment is my one reprieve from the outside pressures. I need to concentrate on my first season as Captain, and I don’t know how I’m going to be able to do that when my roommate looks like she just stepped off the beach with her sunkissed legs, golden hair, and her colorful clothes strewn around my apartment floor. Fuck this. I need to go to the gym.

You’d think Ron would appreciate my ambition. My mind is on a single track and that’s winning Chicago their first championship in decades and topping it off with an MVP trophy for myself. That means no women, barely any friends, and keeping my eyes on the prize. Not letting anyone take advantage of my name or who I’m going to become in the sport of basketball.

How am I supposed to get her to stop? I don’t even know the girl. Say something nice, something comforting. “You’re emotional.”

Lmao nice

“What’s wrong?” She laughs condescendingly. “What’s wrong?!” Her voice rises with her as she stands from the couch. I let my wandering eye trail down those mile-long legs, and I can’t help but wonder how they might feel wrapped around my waist. Not the fucking time, Ryan.

When did I say that? I’m a romance reader. I have a thing for assholes.

Lmaooooo

“We aren’t into bras?” “We? I personally don’t love wearing one with my pajamas, but you do you.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “Judgment free zone.”

“You wanted to have breakfast together,” he reminds me, nodding towards my plate. He remembered, although I forgot all about that after my little meltdown. I figured I would be greeted with an eviction notice after last night, not with a homemade breakfast.

“It could be negative twenty, and I’ll hold an iced coffee in my hand while I wear my winter gloves.”

“Ever hear the phrase ‘she’s not like other girls’?” He gives a small nod of his head.

“Yeah, that’s not me. I’m just like every other chick. As basic as they come. I had an Uggs phase. I had a skinny jeans phase. I like my books with romance, my coffee with more creamer than caffeine, and I even take aesthetic pictures of my food anytime I’m at a restaurant.”

He really is a beautiful man. Square jaw with a light dusting of scruff. Lips a bit full that I can’t help but wonder how soft they feel. Eyes that are light and bright, alluring even if he doesn’t mean to be. He’s not the nicest, not the most outgoing, but attractive, nonetheless. The oddest thing about him might be that he doesn’t realize this.

“Your teammates, you mean.” “I work too much to not consider my teammates my friends. Stevie’s my friend, too.” “Your twin sister.” “And Zanders.” “Your probable future brother-in-law.” “What’s your point, Indy?” His tone is laced with exasperation.

“No point. Just trying to get to know you. What’s your favorite color?” “Black.” “I kind of thought robots would be more into silver.” He offers me a fake smile. “Cute.”

“You’re pretty…bold for someone who just got here yesterday and still hasn’t signed a lease. And you ask a lot of questions.” “You think I’m pretty?”

But now? Now, it’s mortifying. We’ve known each other twenty-two years, dated for six of them, and I still couldn’t get the guy to marry me. I couldn’t even get him to remain faithful.

“You should never have to beg someone to be ready for a future,” he says, and the words come out more tender than I think he anticipated.

“Your real name is Indy?” “Indigo, actually. But I prefer Indy.” “Indigo? Like the color?”

“My name is Indy,” I remind him. “So, can we stop with the Indiana nickname that makes no goddamn sense?” He smiles. Wide and perfect, not holding back. He’s even got dimples, lucky son of a bitch. “Sure thing. I’ll stop with the nickname, Blue.”

Ahhhhhhh!!

I knew fertility treatments were expensive, and I was aware that they were most likely in my future. What I hadn’t planned was that I would be paying out of pocket to get my eggs frozen at age twenty-seven after my life-long love and who I thought was going to be the father of my children decided to sleep with someone else.

I try my very best not to stare at the bulging veins running down his muscular arms as I go over his offer, but he sure is distracting.

Me

Next line item—Rules. Here we go. “Let me guess. Quiet hours start at 8:30 PM, and you conduct a small human sacrifice before every home game that no one can find out about.” “Cute.”

Another light lift of his lips. Well, if that’s not the most addicting thing I’ve ever seen.

When I met Stevie’s brother six months ago, I had to keep myself from searching his name on the internet. He was unquestionably the most attractive man I’d laid eyes on, but more than that, he didn’t like me. And that bugged me more than I’m willing to admit. I didn’t want to know about him because he didn’t want to know about me.

His eyes lift to me before they trail down my face, glide along my neck, and linger a little longer on my chest. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, and my nipples harden from the attention, straining against the thin tank top. He smirks at that, and fuck, is it gorgeous.

He leans in closer across the island as he keeps his eyes locked on mine. “Are you asking where I fuck, Blue?”

“Actually, no.” I straighten. “That doesn’t seem like something I want to know.” “You sure about that?” He nods towards my breasts. My nipples sure as shit want to know where Ryan Shay fucks.

Screaming!!!

“I’m not shy. You just surprised me with how goddamn blunt you were the first couple of times we met.” He straightens. “But I don’t have overnight guests here. I think that’s all you need to know.”

“Are you doing okay over there, Zanders?” I ask the defenseman across from me as he nurses the warm beer in his hand, pouting. “I miss Stevie.” We try to hold it in, we really do, but a small laugh settles among the table.

A year ago, he was on the prowl. Tonight, he’s moping at a bar about missing his girlfriend who he hasn’t seen in forty-eight hours.

“I cannot believe you live with Ryan Shay,” Rio whines, his forehead lightly banging on the tabletop in front of him. “How am I supposed to compete with that?” I roll my eyes at his dramatics.