The Right Move (Windy City, #2)

“Ryan!”

“What? Don’t tell me that finally having an orgasm has made you shy. It’s just sex, remember?”

She whispers, indicating she’s in public. “I’m not…shy when it comes to sex, but I thought you might be.”

“Just because I’m celibate doesn’t mean the subject makes me uncomfortable.”

There’s a pause on her end of the line, so I continue for her.

“So, you called. What’s going on?”

Her voice brightens and I can almost imagine her squaring her shoulders in excitement. “I’m working on my bucket list, and I thought you should know.”

“Oh yeah? Which one?”

“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.”

“I’ll save you a couple. Maybe one. I’ll try to save you one. Actually, do you need anything while I’m here? I can get some things to make dinner when you’re back. Anything you’re in the mood for?”

“Indy,” I sigh. “That’s the opposite of what’s on the bucket list. You’re only allowed to buy what you want. And I can cook for myself. Breakfast is different because it’s…well it’s…”

It’s special.

“It’s our thing,” she says for me.

“Yes. It’s our thing and we trade off, but the whole point of this bucket list is for you to be selfish for once.”

“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.”

“I’m just used to taking care of someone.”

“Trust me, Ind. I know, and you’re still taking care of someone. Only now the person you’re taking care of is you.”

“You’re right.” She sighs into the phone. “Make your own goddamn dinner, Shay.”

A content laugh rumbles in my chest. “There’s my girl.”

What the fuck did I say?

My eyes are wide with regret as I listen intently, sitting in uncomfortable silence.

“I mean—”

“So, what are you doing tonight?” Indy shifts. Thank God.

“I’m in my hotel room. Watching game film.”

“Why? Don’t you have the night off? Go hang with Ethan or something.”

“He’s headed to the hotel bar with the team.”

“You should go! It’s the perfect opportunity to spend time with the team outside of practice.”

“I swear you and Ethan have a text thread going about me because he said the exact same thing to me five minutes ago.”

“I should’ve added this to your bucket list.” Her tone changes, as if she were writing it down. “Become friends with your teammates.”

“Except that has nothing to do with becoming one of your book boyfriends before the wedding, which is the point of the bucket list.”

“No, but it has everything to do with becoming a good captain.”

I flip over, burying my face into the pillow, and mumbling into the fabric. “Fuuuuck.”

“Don’t you just love when I’m right?”

“No,” I quickly answer. “But fine, you win. I’ll go down for one drink.”

“Send me a picture when you get there. For evidence.”

“Well, speaking of the bucket lists, I have one I’m ready to knock off.”

“Oh yeah? Which one?”

“There’s a party I need a date for next Saturday night. You’re home. I checked the Raptors’ schedule, and I’m fairly certain there will be some dancing involved. I’m confident we can get a slow dance in.”

The truth is, I didn’t need to check the Raptors’ schedule because Zanders purposefully planned this party on a night he and I are both off work and in town.

“This sounds fun. And intriguing. What’s the party for?”

“I can’t say just yet, but I think you should buy yourself a new dress.”

“How fancy are we talking here?”

Knowing Zanders, fancy as fuck.

Her pink satin dress floods my memory. How soft the fabric felt under my touch. How fucking stunning she was in it. “Something similar to what you wore at the fall banquet would be perfect.”

“I’ll just wear that dress again.”

I’ve taken Stevie shopping multiple times but making sure my sister is all dressed up would be less suspicious if her best friend took her with the same goal in mind. Not to mention, Indy won’t say it, but I know my girly roommate is dying for a new dress.

“I think you should buy a new one. There’s a credit card stored in the top drawer of the entryway table. Take Stevie and make a day of it.”

“Ryan—”

“Don’t pull that ‘I can’t spend your money’ bullshit. We both know you want to go, and you told me you were an expensive girlfriend, so prove it.”

“You’re sure?”

I laugh. “Stop acting like you’re not excited to spend my money. Yes, I’m sure. And pay for Stevie’s too, please. For this party, I want to be the one to buy her dress.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “What’s so special about this party?”

I stand from the bed. “I gotta go meet up with the team.”

“Hey, Ryan, just so you’re aware, you’re the absolute worst, and I’m buying a new pair of shoes with your money too.”

A smile spreads once again. “Kind of says a lot about you since you like me so much.”

Her soft chuckle invades my ears.

Slipping into my shoes, I grab my hotel key with my phone still pressed to my cheek. “Hey, Blue, I kind of missed talking to you for three days. Let’s not do that again.”

“Deal.”

“Add it to the fridge. With all the other deals we’ve made.”

We both stay silent for a moment, neither of us hanging up just yet.

Indy clears her throat. “See you at home.”

And fuck do I love the way those words sound rolling off her tongue.

“See you at home.”





The hotel bar is hidden from plain view, quietly tucked on the twentieth floor. The double doors are inconspicuous, though the noise of chatter from my fellow teammates is a dead giveaway to the crowd inside.

I keep my head low until I reach the security guard standing with his hands behind his back, guarding the entrance. Looking up, he tilts his head in an approving nod and lets me inside.

Ethan was right, it is a private bar. This very rarely happens, and instantly, this particular hotel shoots to the top of my list. As blessed as I am to live the life I do, I can’t just go out for a beer after work like most people do. I’ll be recognized, photographed, and if I have a bad game the next night, accusations of playing hungover will litter the internet.