The Right Move (Windy City, #2)

by Liz Tomforde

“To answer your question, he made me cry.” “I’ll kill him,” Rio decides.

“Oh, it’s all him. Sweetest man I’ve ever met. And emotional! Did you know he was so emotional?” “I had no idea. Shay is always so composed around here.” “Oh, he’s emotional all right! Huge crier too. He sobbed the first time we made lo—”

“Not so fast. If I’m going to even consider taking you to this wedding, I’m going to need to turn you into one of my book boyfriends first.” That earns a raised brow. “Oh, come on. If we’re going to be acting, we may as well go all in. Do you know how to flare your nostrils in anger?” My breakfast almost comes back up. “What?” “If you see me across the room, talking to another man, I need you to stare intently then flare your nostrils. Or grind your molars together and tic your jaw.”

Keep an eye on Indy for me. She has no clue that these guys are eye-fucking the hell out of her in that goddamn dress.

“I’m pretty sure your fake boyfriend wants to very real kill me.” I still. “Geez. Does everyone know it’s fake?” “Stevie told Zanders and Zanders told me because, Indy, I was freaking the fuck out.” “Rio. You and I, we’re friends. We’ve been over this.” He scoffs, his head jolting back. “I’m not talking about you. I thought one of my closest friends was dating Ryan Shay. Ryan freaking Shay. You know how I feel about him.”

“Give the man a fucking Oscar then.” Rio’s eyes continue to flicker to my roommate. “As much as it’d be an absolute honor to be punched in the face by Ryan Shay, I don’t know that a fundraiser is the best place for that.”

“No. That’s not how this is going to go. When you’re with me, I want you exactly as you are. That includes letting people know just how fucking smart you are. You’re not going to cater to anyone’s toxic masculinity bullshit. You’re not going to be quiet and appeasing when you’re with me. If Ron, or anyone else for that matter, has an issue with you being smarter than him, then we’re going to have a far bigger problem than him thinking I’m not a good leader.”

“Yeah, that’s another thing. How fucking small was Alex’s dick that he let you do this? Or should I say, asked you to do this. That shit is manipulative and controlling because, let me guess, he didn’t like that you were smarter than him, possibly more successful. Did he ask you to tone it down in front of his friends? Did he want you to stay quiet and look pretty so his colleagues wouldn’t think less of him?”

“Indy.” Both his large hands cup my face. “I don’t give a fuck where we are. You could cry all you want at this fundraiser. You could scream, laugh, throw a temper tantrum in front of these people for all I care. I don’t give a fuck, but you’re not crying over him, here or anywhere else.”

Part of me hopes Indy is home so I can know whether she’s wearing her hair in a braid or a bun. Whether she’s wearing socks around the house or letting her bare feet enjoy the heated floor. Whether she’s still in the clothes she slept in or if she’s ready for the day. And part of me hopes she’s gone so I can’t have any of those questions answered. They’re dangerous to our arrangement and they’re dangerous to me.

“What does that sign mean?” “Which?” I repeat Tim’s hand motion. It’s a fairly simple one—a fist with a pinky extended, motioned in a small circle around his chest. “Oh, that’s my name. My sign name.” “Sign name?” “It’s a special sign to identify someone,” Indy says, her hands continuing to move for her dad in the most beautifully elegant way. “That way we don’t need to spell out our entire names every time we speak. Not everyone has a sign name. My dad chooses who gets them and what their sign is.” She balls her hand, but her pinky stays straight up then rubs her hand in a small circle over her heart. “’I’ for Indigo and my dad says I’m his whole heart.” She repeats her sign name. “Indy.”

“How would…” I hesitate uncomfortably. “How would an adult learn the language?” Her head snaps around to me. “You want to learn how to sign?” Oh fuck. Those glossy brown eyes are back. Indy, the romantic. “I want to be able to speak to your dad without you having to translate. That way I can let him know when his daughter is being a pain in my ass.”

“What is this?” “I uh…” I rub my hand on the back of my neck. “I made you coffee before I left for practice and put it in the fridge to cool so it wouldn’t get watered down when you added ice.”

“Where’s the regular bacon?” she asks. “I haven’t been ordering it. I’ve just been getting the vegetarian stuff.” She looks over her shoulder at me for an explanation. “I think it tastes pretty good. No need to order both.”

I just want the fridge to be stocked with things she can eat. I want her to feel at home here because it’s her home too. The realization rams into my chest. I want her here. I want her to want to be here. Fuck, when did that happen?

“You’re what, Ryan?” “I’m…worried about you, Ind. I was worrying about you the whole game.” Her lips lift mischievously, her tone teasing. “Ryan Shay, do you care about me?” “No.”

“Ryan Shay cares about me!” “You’re annoying.” Her hands go to her knees, and she sticks her ass out, twerking in my kitchen. “Yeah, but you still care about me.”

“Do you think I’m a trainwreck, Ryan?” I huff a laugh. “You’re more like a cute little fender bender.”

Indy is not the type of woman you can simply flush from your system after a single night. She’s the kind to seep into your veins and rewire your brain, making you do and say things you swore you never would. Whether she believes it or not, Indigo Ivers is the type of woman you keep forever, and even though I can pretend to be her boyfriend, there’s no way in hell I could pretend that one night with her wouldn’t completely fuck me up.

Cooties are not what I’m worried about. Indy loves to give me shit that I’m afraid of girls, but the truth is the only woman who has ever truly terrified me is her. Her intelligence, charisma, and sharp little attitude are the most frightening things about her, because I’ve never felt as weak as I do when I’m around her.

Daily update—I just want you to know, I saw the outline of your brother’s dick and I very much want to have sex with him. But I’m not going to. Aren’t I such a good friend?

“Ryan?” “Hmm?” “Why do you smell like coconut?”

“Are you checking out my ass right now?”

“Trying to distract me tonight? With those heels and those lips? Because you look fucking stunning.”

“Get your fucking hands off her.” Ryan shoves Connor. “Fuck you! You could've hurt her.”

“I like having you sitting so close.” I laugh. “Ryan, I just caused you to get a technical foul.” Connor makes both of his free throws. “Worth it.”

“Daily update—I hope your brother wears his jersey when he fucks me.” I pop my shoulders. “Or I could wear it.”

Ryan’s eyes dart between Alex and me again, and maybe it’s the fact that I’m about two seconds away from crying or that he can physically see that I’m living out my worst nightmare, but he drops his gym bag and in a few quick strides, charges towards me. Before I can think any further, his palms cup my face, long fingers threading into my ponytail, and his lips are on mine.

“How do you know my girlfriend?”

Ryan slides a forearm around the front of my shoulders, holding my back to his chest. He nods towards Alex’s jersey. “Oh,” Ryan says sweetly, patronizingly. “You’re a fan of mine.”

“We should get home.” Ryan slides his hand to my lower back, turning me towards his car. “See you at the wedding, huh?”

Was it as fake as I claimed? Not in the slightest. As I told her, I don’t feel comfortable faking intimacy, so I didn’t.

I’d never let him see her cry over him, so you could blame the kiss on that, but the truth is when I walked out of the players’ entrance all I saw was Blue. My perfect fucking Blue with those strappy heels, leather pants, and an attitude consisting of the strangest mix of welcoming and sharp. But when I noticed him, all I saw was red.

But I also kissed her because I’d been wanting to do it for weeks now.

He’s been a constant in my life since I moved to Chicago, so last year when he told me his granddaughter had to stop her piano lessons because their family could no longer afford it, I found a scholarship foundation to support her and pay her way for as long as she wants to keep playing. He doesn’t know that said scholarship is simply my personal bank account, but the details aren’t important.

“She’s a good one, Mr. Shay. Kind heart.” I soften at his words. “She is a good one.”

She’s on a date? My mouth goes dry as rage seeps through every pore of my body. Don’t get me started on how I feel about her being on a date, especially after she told me our date was the first one she’d been on, but if he so much as laid a fucking finger on her without her consent, my sister may as well start driving back to Chicago so she can bail me out of jail tonight.

His words tune out when I turn around to find Ryan standing in the doorway of Sullivan’s. His angry eyes wander the room, until they soften slightly, landing on me. He takes me in, his shoulders dropping until his attention lands on my knee, and he stiffens again. Jason’s hand is back, and I didn’t realize.

His anger is palpable by the time he reaches me, but the controlled venom of his voice is the scariest part. “Get your fucking hands off her.”

“Did you touch her?” He turns towards the bartender. “Did he touch her?”

“Ryan, people are watching.” Finally, his angry stare breaks away from my date. “I don’t give a fuck, Indy.” Just as quickly, his attention swings back to the man behind me. “Did you fucking touch her?” His nostrils flare and if I wasn’t so wrapped up in what’s happening in this moment, I’d give him a pat on the back for pulling off that whole “jealous book boyfriend” thing.

“Trust me, she was never yours.”

“I’m pretty sure my body is broken, so yeah, I thought I’d test that theory by having someone else there to help distract me. I didn’t think about being seen in public, so I apologize for that, but I’m not going to apologize for having needs and being desperate to take care of—” Ryan’s hand brackets my throat, pinning me to the wall with his hips, stealing the rest of my words when his mouth takes mine.

“Fuck, Ind. Make those little noises again and I don’t know that I’ll be able to stop.”

Pulling back, Ryan watches me, his eyes locked on where we’re connected. Dilated pupils zero in on his leg. He slightly lifts my dress, not enough for him to see all of me, but just enough to note the glistening wetness I’m leaving on his thigh. I could give two shits that my arousal is all over his leg. I haven’t been this close in months. “Look how pretty that is, Blue.” “Please don’t stop.” The words are more desperate than they’ve ever been. “Never, baby.”

He grasps my chin, forcing my attention back on him. “Focus on me.” That’s met with another searing kiss, my body rolling against the muscles in his leg. “Focus on us. Fuck,” he exhales against my lips, sharing breaths before his eyes drop south. “Are you going to come on my leg, Ind?”

“Next time you decide you need help with your…situation,” he murmurs against my lips with an aching rasp. “Ask me.”

Because trust me, after the night I pinned her to the wall and made her come, there’s no way in hell another man is going near her without me losing my goddamn mind. Or going to prison.

“Ethan, I’ve got to go. Indy is calling me.” He laughs without humor. “Oh, so you’ll answer your phone for her but not for me.” “Yeah, well, she’s a lot cuter than you. Talk to you later.”

“I’m at the grocery store and I’m buying whatever I want. My cart is halfway full already. I’m getting three different coffee creamers I want to try. One is Fruity Pebbles flavored. Did you know that was a thing? I hope there’s room in the fridge. Do you think there’s room in the fridge for them all?” I can’t help but smile at the overwhelming joy coming through the line. “We’ll make room. What else are you getting?” “My favorite dessert are these raspberry turnovers in the frozen aisle. Alex liked the apple ones better so I always bought those, but today I’m getting the raspberry ones.” “Mmm. Yeah. Those do sound better.”