The Right Move (Windy City, #2)

by Liz Tomforde

I’ve always found Indy’s Converse random and a bit strange, but now I find myself wondering what I have to do to get myself added to them.

Indy reaches for the door handle, but I click the lock in place before she can get to it. Brown eyes roll with exaggeration when the door refuses to open for her. Call me old-fashioned, I don’t care, but I have yet and will not let her open her own door. Rounding the car, I unlock it on the key fob and open the passenger side to find Indy wearing an unimpressed expression. “You’re so weird about that.” “I’m not weird. You’ve just never had someone take care of you before, so you may as well get used to it.”

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.

Life has a funny way of fulfilling you, even when it isn’t in the way you assumed it’d be.”

The flowers I had delivered are shades of light purple and pink, so I know she’s going to love them. It’s impractical, constantly spending money on flowers that will die shortly after bringing them home, but every cent is worth it when I get to watch that beaming smile bloom when she sees them. The girl deserves to be spoiled, and I want to be the one doing the spoiling.

Changing into a pair of sweats and a tee, I grab a beer from the fridge and get to work on the bookshelf I ordered. I easily could’ve purchased a custom-made one or even a bookshelf that was already put together, but the idea of building this myself sounded nice, normal even. It seemed like something a normal man would do for a girl he likes. Because at the end of the day, that’s who this bookshelf is for.

“I know, but I’m not paying rent anymore. Shouldn’t I contribute in some way? I can feed you. If you need help with laundry—” “Absolutely not,” I scoff. “You’re not my mother.”