The Right Move (Windy City, #2)

by Liz Tomforde

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

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

“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.”

“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.”

“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?” “You heard the first two words and tuned out the rest, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

He takes my now room temperature coffee and pours a bit in the sink before turning back to the fridge and filling my mug with ice. Pulling a small

carton of milk from the refrigerator, he sets them both down in front of me. “I don’t have any creamer, so hopefully milk will do. You’re not lactose intolerant too, are you?” There’s a nervous bounce in his eyes as he looks at me, as if he can’t handle another thing I won’t eat or drink. “Milk is great. Thank you.”

“You still want to let me live here after I threw a shoe at your door and told you what a colossal clusterfuck my life is?”

“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.”

It’s decided. I’m going to bring some color into Ryan Shay’s life if it’s the last thing I do.

“Blue,” Ryan calls out from down the hall. I’m not sure why I acknowledge the nickname, but I find myself turning to face him as he pops his head out of the elevator. “Thanks for the coffee.”

You needed one. Practical answer. Thank you so much, Ryan. A pop of lavender peeks out from under the pile of pillows. New sheets in my favorite color, and I don’t know how to process how I feel about him remembering that. He doesn’t respond, so I double text because fuck it, I want to talk to him. How much did it hurt to buy something that wasn’t black or white? Almost killed me.

Is this your love language? Gift-giving? Nothing about this situation has to do with love, Blue. You needed a bed. Don’t think too much into it. Mm-hmm. Watch out, Ryan. You keep doing nice things for me like cooking me breakfast and buying me bedding and I’m going to think you want me to stay or something. Gotta get to practice. Nice avoidance, big guy. Clean your room, it’s a safety hazard.

“Stop looking at her,” I warn.

She’s not available.” “So, you are hitting that.” Dom nods in approval. “No, I’m not hitting that. And neither are any of you. Stop looking at her or she’ll be the last thing you ever fucking see.” “Ooooh. Protective Shay is here, and his sister is nowhere to be found. Someone write this date down. History is being made, people. Ryan Shay gives a fuck about someone other than Stevie and something other than basketball.”

“Do you want me to get on my knees and beg or something?” “Now that you say it.” She cocks her head to the side, eyes roaming my length. “I wouldn’t mind knowing what you look like on your knees, Shay.” “Indy, please.” “This is ridiculous. We can talk about it when you get home.” “Perfect. Great. All I’m asking for is one night.”

“Go get me your key so I can go crash in my new expensive bed.” “What an amazing guy to buy you a bed. Probably makes you want to return a favor. He seems like a wonderful person.” Indy rolls her eyes. “He’s on my shit list at the moment.”

“I do, but flowers are typically more high-maintenance and with how much I travel for work, I can’t always take care of them.” I scratch the back of my neck. “I could…maybe help you take care of them.” What am I doing? I pulled her out of bed so I could get my apartment back to normal and

here I am asking her to make more of a mess by offering to water her fucking flowers? But I need a favor from her, and I came in hot with my yelling this morning. “You’d do that?” She stands up straighter as a bit of hope overtakes her. Well, shit. I can’t exactly take it back when she looks like that. “Sure.” I shrug. “Thank you, Ryan! I haven’t been able to have fresh flowers at home for years. I’m so excited! There’s an adorable flower stand a few blocks over. I’m going to go there today!” I get it. I can read between the lines. The asshole she lived with before didn’t offer to take care of them while she was traveling for work so she couldn’t have any.

“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.” “Blue—” “Do you know how to growl?” “What?” “Yeah, I don’t really know what that’s supposed to sound like, but every one of my book

“We’re making a list. No, we’re making a bucket list. For you. If you can knock out this list, I’ll take you to the wedding.” She speaks as she writes. “Book Boyfriend How-To.” “I won’t be that bad that I need a fucking list to become a passable boyfriend.”

Cocking her head, she examines them. “Heads-up, Shay, I’m an expensive girlfriend. Fake or not. I can’t help it.” “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’ve got money.” She playfully smacks the counter. “That’s what I like to hear!”

An afternoon spent at a bookstore where I’m casually browsing the shelves, appearing effortless and academic. When all the sudden, a handsome man down the aisle makes eye contact, shyly smiles, then holds up the same book that’s in my hands. Specific, but yes, I have an outfit for that too. I’d love to buy a new dress, but I’m working with a budget these days.

I tried! I really tried to keep them alive, but I think I watered them too much and drowned them. Then when I went down to the flower stand today to buy the same ones in hopes you wouldn’t notice, they didn’t have them. So I bought you some called Black-eyed Susan? Which is the weirdest fucking thing to call a flower. My cheeks are sore from the splitting grin on my face. The idea of Ryan Shay, NBA superstar, leaving his apartment and facing the streets of Chicago to replace my flowers which he tried so hard to keep alive that he over watered them is beyond charming.

I roll my eyes before peeking over my shoulder to find Ryan sitting at a table, leaning back in his chair, legs sprawled like a king as he mindlessly sketches the rim of his glass. His stance might seem informal, but his stare is venomous, pointed right at Rio. “Don’t worry, it’s not you. He didn’t want to stay long, and I think I lost track of time.” “Indy.” Rio stops moving completely. “I might be inexperienced when it comes to

women, but I’m still a man. That right there is jealousy.” “No, it’s not.” “Trust me. I know that look.” “Well, then he’s doing his job. Pretending to be my boyfriend.”

“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.” He needs to stop. He can’t be demanding and caring in the sexiest way while he’s wearing that suit. He should know by now that I’m a romantic and I’ll end up kissing him for it or something stupid like that.

“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.” A quick, non-feminine laugh bubbles out of her. It’s lovely. “There are classes you could take. Or I could help teach you if you’d like.” She doesn’t make eye contact, as if she’s new to the topic. As if no one else in her life has ever asked her how they could learn to better communicate with her family. Indy opens the fridge, quickly shifting the subject. “Are you hungry? I can make you some—”

She takes her pink coffee cup out of the refrigerator and holds it up to me. “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.” Her head drops to the side. “Ryan, that’s really sweet. Thank you.”

I want her here. I want her to want to be here. Fuck, when did that happen?

Zanders folds over his steering wheel in laughter. “Ryan, my guy, you’re so completely fucked, and you can’t even see it.”

Her latest read sits on the coffee table in front of me. As usual, it displays a shirtless man right there on the cover. “What’s this one about?” I ask, holding it up. “The female main character hooks up with her ex-boyfriend’s dad.” “What the fuck?” “Trust me. The little shit deserved it.”

I’m glad she’s behind me and can’t see the smile pulling at my lips. She’s fucking ridiculous sometimes and I kind of love it.

“Let’s go help with dinner before they think we’re in here fucking.” She raises a brow. “Trust me. If we were fucking, they’d know. I’m not very quiet.” Instantly, I turn away from her, putting my hands on top of my head, and attempting to keep my blood from flooding south. “Jesus, Blue. Not funny. Are you trying to make me go have dinner next to my GM with a goddamn hard-on in my pants?”

“That’s one way to convince him you’re into me.” She giggles mischievously. No one needs to be convinced. It’s fairly fucking obvious. Curiosity laces her tone. “Did it work?” As I turn around, her eyes immediately drop to my crotch. Her smile falls and I watch that pretty, slender throat of hers move in a deep swallow. “What do you think? I can’t exactly think about how loud you might be in bed without all the blood rushing straight to my cock.” “Oh,” she breathes. I rub my palms over my face. “I’ll be out in a minute. Good god, woman.”

I finish my cocktail for liquid courage and stand with the blanket still wrapped around me, my skewer and sad marshmallow in my hand. Ryan takes a seat, one palm lingering on my hip and guiding me down to sit on his lap. He situates the blanket over me, then pulls me closer, my back flush with his chest and the warmth of his breath lingering on the skin of my neck. “Good?” he whispers. “Good.”

That is until the final few minutes when Houston has a bad pass, and the ball comes bouncing over to where I sit on the sideline. It’s already out of bounds by the time Connor dives for it, and there’s truly no possible way he could save it. I don’t know why he’d even attempt to. His giant body falls into my lap, spilling my drink all over my chest. The crowd around me yelps, and the heavy blow to my body is a bit painful. “I’m so sorry,” he says as he stands from my lap. He holds on to my shoulders, bending down and making himself eye level. “Are you okay? Let me get you another drink.” He slides

a thumb over my cheekbone. “You’re far too pretty to be covered in—” “Get your fucking hands off her.” Ryan shoves Connor. “Fuck you! You could've hurt her.” I’m front row to watch Connor laugh as the ref blows the whistle and awards Ryan with a technical. “Oh, bullshit!” Ryan protests. “He’s diving into the crowd for no goddamn reason! The ball was already out of bounds.” “Technical foul. Chicago. Number five.” “Whoa,” Stevie exhales. “Ryan’s never been tee’d up before.” She turns to me. “Are you okay?”

“Are you bringing someone?” he continues. “Blue.” Somehow the name pulls me into focus to find Ryan standing outside of the players’ entrance. Gym bag slung over his shoulder, hands in his pockets. His eyes bounce to Alex then back to me, as if he were studying the situation. “Holy shit,” Kevin whispers. “Ryan Shay.” In my periphery, I can see Kevin, Alex, and two of my old friends, lightly smacking each other to ensure everyone sees who just walked out of the arena. 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. Soft lips, warm to the touch. Commanding yet measured, as I’d expect any kiss from Ryan Shay to be. My mouth yields to his, parting to take him deeper and his tongue ever so slightly sweeps across mine in an electrifying slide. One of his hands drops, curving around my throat to bracket the back of my neck as the other pulls my hips to his. His imposing touch makes me feel small and the deliciously domineering way in which he kisses me makes me feel entirely out of control.

Daily update—that kiss you saw last week was fake, but I still had to change my underwear when I got home. So, kind of real? Stevie If I help you move out, will the daily updates from hell stop?

I’m too far in, sis. Reminder—I warned you.

He pops off the doorframe, sauntering into the kitchen, and the rarely seen smug smile across his lips tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Where are your clothes?” “In my room?” “Why aren’t you wearing them?”

“Because this is my house.” I feel him behind me, watching me as I swirl a sponge around a dirty bowl. His hands brace the counter on either side of me, his chest to my back, and the heat from his shower radiates off him, warming me. He’s naked under that towel, and every part of me wants to lean back and feel his body on mine.

“Just playing the game you started.” He pushes off the counter, taking two steps towards me. His index finger hooks under the hem of my shorts, igniting my skin with goosebumps. “Wearing these itty-bitty shorts and bending over in my kitchen. Don’t act all innocent, Blue.”

“Just trying to figure out how good you are at acting.” “You think I’m acting?” “I don’t know what’s what anymore.” His palm slides down my back, cupping my ass, and pulling my hips into his where I’m met with a bulge hitting just above the apex of my thighs. “Does this feel fake to you?” My breath catches. “Jealousy turns you on?” “Nah. No need to be jealous when I know what’s mine. I’m the one you’re going home with.” As if every last feminist bone has left my body, I melt into him.

Partway towards the exit we connect with Zanders, Maddison, and his wife. And all the way down the hall, in front of the exit, Ryan waits with my jacket slung over his shoulder and my heels dangling in his hand.

He helps me put my coat back on, delicately pulling my hair from the collar. Eyeing the heels in his hand, we silently and mutually agree that there’s no way in hell they’re going back on.

Ryan scans the room, finding me in the corner. His ocean eyes widen with shock as his strides pick up pace to meet me. He’s beautiful and commanding, but I have no idea what he’s doing here. Is this part of the deal? Him acting like a protective boyfriend in front of my old friends? His warm fingers push my hair away from my face before testing the temperature of my forehead with the back of his hand. I brush him off without much authority, but he ignores me and checks again. “What are you doing here?” I ask, finally giving in and leaning into his touch.