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The Right Move (Windy City Series Book 2)(11)

Author:Liz Tomforde

“But she got to go to Ryan’s home opener tonight which is awesome.” Zanders holds out his phone to show me a picture of number five on the basketball court, but I make sure not to linger my stare too long. “How was your first night in the apartment with him?”

“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.

“To be honest, Ind, I don’t know who I’m more jealous of. If this were any other guy, I’d hate them, but this is Ryan Shay we’re talking about. I wish I were you.”

I turn back to Zanders. “To answer your question, he made me cry.”

“I’ll kill him,” Rio decides.

“Settle down there, tiger. I don’t know that it was necessarily Ryan’s fault. I think I’m just having a tough time in general.”

All three guys know why, and they shoot me with pity smiles in apology. I hate it.

“What did he do?” Zanders asks.

“He said something to the effect of ‘I don’t want you here, and I’m only doing this to fulfill my brotherly duty’ or something like that.”

“Ouch.” Maddison winces.

Zanders cuts in. “Ryan is a good guy, but he’s not like you. He’s not the most welcoming to new people and he thrives on doing his own thing. He pretty much only cares about basketball and Stevie. Give him a chance. He’ll come around…hopefully.”

“He likes you.” I motion towards him. “You guys are close. How’d you get him to like you?”

“He hated me, remember? It wasn’t until he realized that I was in love with his sister that he was cool with me, but even then, it took some time to get to know him. He’s admittedly guarded.”

“I get that he’s doing this for Stevie, and it has nothing to do with me, but I’m living with a guy who wishes he were living alone. It’s awkward and uncomfortable.”

“You know what,” Zanders continues. “I thought this was going to be a disaster, the two of you under the same roof, but you might be good for Ryan. Force him out of his shell. Make him spend time with someone who isn’t a teammate or his sister. Maybe having someone normal around will give him a little hope in humanity.”

“Aw, Zee. You think I’m normal?”

“You teeter the line.” He smiles into his glass as he finishes off his beer.

“He told me I couldn’t have people over. That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Ind,” Rio cuts in, eyeing me suspiciously. “How much do you know about your new roommate?”

Clearly, not enough judging by the three pairs of eyes cautiously watching me as if I’m missing a huge piece to the puzzle.

Over the last few nights, I’ve attempted to do some internet sleuthing on Ryan, but every time his handsome face filled my screen, I got too nervous to know more. I’m not sure what I was looking for or what I expected to find, but part of me wants to learn about Ryan organically and not through the headlines that litter the internet.

“What do you mean?” I look around for the answer. “Because he’s a professional athlete? I get it. I’m friends with you three, aren’t I? I know there’s a lot of attention on you.”

Zanders shakes his head. “This is a little different.”

“A little?” Rio scoffs. “Ryan Shay was the number one draft pick out of North Carolina—a team who won back-to-back national championships under him. He’s…what do you think?” Rio shifts his attention to Maddison and Zanders. “Top five, maybe top three players in the league? And he doesn’t even have a ring or an MVP yet. It’s impossible for him to leave his house without being recognized, I’m sure. These guys are big in the NHL, and they’re known throughout the city”—he motions across the table towards his teammates—“but it’s nothing in comparison to what Ryan Shay experiences.”

“You remember my little media debacle with Stevie last spring when everyone found out I had a girlfriend?” Zanders asks me. “Well, when Ryan makes headlines, we’re not talking national news. It goes worldwide. He keeps his image squeaky-clean for a reason. All eyes are on him.”

Swallowing down the thickness in my throat, I ask, “He’s really that well-known?”

“I feel for the guy.” Maddison shakes his head. “We’re both captains of our respective teams and we’re in the same city, but I’ll never have to experience the kind of pressure and attention he lives with.”

“Zanders, how much money do you make?”

“Really, Rio?”

“I can look it up online. I’m trying to prove a point.”

“Eleven and a half.”

“Twelve,” Maddison smugly cuts in, sharing his own salary.

Zanders flips him off as he tries to hold back his smile.

“See.” Rio turns to me. “Two of the biggest names in the NHL make almost twenty-four million dollars a year combined. Ryan Shay makes double that. Hell, he’s got shoe deals and endorsements that are probably worth more than that.”

“Rio, you really are in love with my future brother-in-law, aren’t you?”

“Undoubtedly.” He shifts his attention to Maddison. “How does it feel knowing he lives under you?”

“Like a joke,” Maddison laughs. “Guy makes so much money he could own the entire building.”

“Why does he live there then?” I finally cut in. “The apartment is gorgeous, but if he makes that much—”

“Because he’s practical,” Zanders reminds me. “He doesn’t indulge in anything.”

Four plates, four sets of silverware, four bowls. Organized to the point of insanity. Is it self-control to live as precisely as Ryan does or is it a form of self-punishment?

Remembering how rude he was the night he came home and found the mess I created, it’s all starting to make sense. I upended his structure, his routine. His control was taken away in the one space he finds solace.

And I’m the crazy new roommate who threw a shoe at his door.

I can’t imagine going through life the way he does, never being able to let his guard down with all eyes on him, but if his apartment is the one place he can do it, then the black and white minimalistic prison he’s living in isn’t going to cut it.

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

The sun was already rising by the time I left the airport. Between the overtime win in Edmonton and clearing customs, I made it home hours after I had planned. Coffee seemed like a good idea. Hell, it’s always a good idea, but especially when it’s my first full day in the apartment and I have a mess to unpack. Not to mention, I’m hoping to spend time with my new roommate today, so I want to be as perky as possible because I’m going to make sure Ryan Shay enjoys living with me if it’s the last thing I do.

“Would you like a carrying tray?” the barista asks.

“Please. That’d be great. Thank you.”

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