Well, I’ll be damned. Ryan Shay has a sense of humor.
“What about your guests?” I ask before we can veer too far off that subject. “Where do you…entertain your guests?”
His eyes lift to me before they trail down my face, glide along my neck, and linger a little longer on my chest. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, and my nipples harden from the attention, straining against the thin tank top.
He smirks at that, and fuck, is it gorgeous.
“What are you asking?”
Jesus, his voice got husky.
I swallow, crossing one leg over the other to dull the sudden throb from his panty-melting grin. “I’m asking…” I hesitate, as if the thought of knowing where Ryan Shay has sex isn’t making the spot between my legs painfully ache. Clearing my throat, I begin again. “I was wondering—”
He leans in closer across the island as he keeps his eyes locked on mine. “Are you asking where I fuck, Blue?”
No. We aren’t doing this. He’s not the one that gets to be in control here. I get to make him uncomfortable with my outgoing personality. He doesn’t get to slide in here with his weird, control-freak thing and that sultry voice and ask if I’m curious about his sex life. I am, God, I am, but no.
“Actually, no.” I straighten. “That doesn’t seem like something I want to know.”
“You sure about that?” He nods towards my breasts.
My nipples sure as shit want to know where Ryan Shay fucks. They’re practically ripping through my tank top, wanting to find out. Two smiley faces on the fabric are perfectly lined up, and they’re puckered so far out from the rest of the shirt, they’re practically screaming at my roommate to find out where he has sex if it’s not here.
Huffing, I rub my palms over them, trying to get them to stand down. “What the hell, Ryan? You’re supposed to be shy when it comes to talking about girls.”
“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.”
Well, okay then. Clear line drawn.
He adds the third line item which seems like the final one—Signature. Sliding the notepad across the island to me, he holds out the pen.
“That’s it?” I ask with skepticism. “Pay you five-hundred dollars a month and don’t have guests over?”
“Plus make sure you’re quiet when you come home late from road trips, and I’ll do the same. Be nice to my doorman, and maybe we can work on the messy thing.”
I raise a brow. “Now you’re asking for too much.”
Shifting my attention to the pad in front of me, I decide to sign before he adds more rules that I won’t be able to get on board with. So far, these are tame, and I’d like to keep it that way.
He peels off the top paper and uses a magnet to stick our lease agreement on the fridge for both of us to see. Every day. For as long as I live here.
“I’ll see you when you’re back from your road trip.” He takes a fresh coffee with him to his room.
“Wait, that’s it? That was only thirty minutes. You don’t have to hide in your room.”
“I’m good.”
“I could…I could make us lunch!” I quickly suggest, and the desperation for quality time is seeping from my voice. I sound pathetic.
“I have practice.”
“Oh, okay.”
Stopping in his doorway, he turns on his heel to face me again, looking me up and down as I sit on the stool, desperate for some attention. Can he sense how reliant I am on someone else’s company, or does he assume it’s his time in particular I want? Because it’s not about him. I just don’t want to be alone.
His lips tilt again, but this time there’s no amusement in his slight smile. He pities me.
And for the third time since I’ve met Ryan Shay, he hides in his room, away from me.
5
INDY
“Indy, I’m just saying, if you need a place to crash, my bed is available.” Rio, a third-year defenseman for the Chicago Raptors sits in the barstool next to mine, facing me and ignoring his two teammates across the table. “You don’t have to pay rent. I’d be happy, thrilled, to have you.”
“Jesus, Rio,” Zanders laughs. “Let it go. She’s got a spot. Indy isn’t moving in.”
Rio’s face falls as the rest of us laugh at his disappointment, but he’s known my answer since he offered his bachelor pad to me last June.
“Thanks, Rio.” I sling an arm over his shoulders as I sit next to him at a local bar in downtown Edmonton. “But being roommates is tricky business and I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”
I emphasize the word friendship.
His green eyes begin to sparkle. “You know what they say about friends. Some of the best relationships start as—”
Curling my hand around his neck, I silence him with a palm over his mouth. “Not gonna happen, buddy.”
I feel his cheeky smile stretch against my palm. “A man can dream, Indigo.”
Regardless that nothing would ever happen between me and Rio, I wouldn’t risk our friendship. Rio is too young, too sweet, and too na?ve to be anything more than my friend, but even if he were my age and his house wasn’t filled with parties and late nights on the Xbox, I truly love having him as a friend.
Besides, I have nothing left to give someone else. Alex took it all. The only thing I could possibly offer is a physical relationship, something to add that last piece of separation between my ex and me, but there’s no way I’m letting Rio know that’s where my head is.
He’ll offer and I’ll say no…again.
He checked in on me all summer after he went home to Boston. And even though last year I wrote him off as childish, goofy, and overexcitable, I didn’t realize over the four months of off-season that he would become such a great friend. Rio genuinely cares about me, regardless that he's joking around 99% of the time.
“I’m kidding.” Rio’s shoulder nudges into mine. “I’m happy that you’re getting settled.”
“How do you like the building so far?” Maddison, Captain of the Raptors, asks me as he sits across the table with Zanders.
“It’s extravagant and beautiful and I’m trying not to get too used to the luxury lifestyle, but I’ve only slept there for one night and I have an attachment growing.”
Maddison smiles. “It’s cool you’re close by. Ryan is a good dude.”
Maddison and his family live on the penthouse floor of Ryan’s building, and Zanders and Stevie are in the building across the street. Rio’s house is about twenty minutes away, but Maddison is right; it is nice to be surrounded by friends, and takes the edge off the idea of being alone, even if I did just move in with a stranger.
“Are you doing okay over there, Zanders?” I ask the defenseman across from me as he nurses the warm beer in his hand, pouting.
“I miss Stevie.”
We try to hold it in, we really do, but a small laugh settles among the table.
The boys played last night in Vancouver and tomorrow night in Edmonton. This is the first night off while on the road, and it looks a whole lot different than it did last season for Zanders. A year ago, he was on the prowl. Tonight, he’s moping at a bar about missing his girlfriend who he hasn’t seen in forty-eight hours.