Page 169 of The Right Move

“I know,” I admit proudly. “And I fucking love it.”

We win by seventeen.

36

INDY

Grabbing my keys, I head towards the front door. “Ry, I’m heading to Michael’s.”

Sitting on the couch with a book in his hands and his feet propped on the coffee table, Ryan stiffens before slowly lowering his book to his lap.

“Say that again for me.”

“I’m heading to Michael’s.”

“And who the fuck is Michael?”

Huh?

As realization hits me, I try my hardest not to laugh. Jealous Ryan is hot, so I’ll let this play out before admitting that Michael’s is the craft store where I buy my embroidery thread to cross-stitch.

“Don’t worry about it.”

His brows rocket up towards his hairline. “Oh, don’t worry about it? Okay then.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do unless we're both naked.”

He lifts his book again, refocusing his attention on the pages. “Have fun, but just know that you’re responsible for whatever happens to Michael tonight. In fact…” He eases into the couch as if he’s casually unaffected. “It’ll give me something to do later.”

It’s then that I double over in laughter. “You’re insane.”

Ryan peeks an eye over his book.

“Michael’s is a craft store, you psychopath.”

He pops his shoulder, not denying the statement, and is entirely unapologetic that if there were a real man named Michael I was going to see tonight, he’d have no problem standing behind his promise.

Unable to contain my laughter, I take a seat across his lap. “Would you like to come with me so you can confront Michael while I pick up a new embroidery hoop and needles?”

He drops his book to the couch, slipping his arms around my waist. “I was about to body slam Michael through the floor.”

My head falls to his shoulder, and finally, Ryan is able to laugh at himself. “Do you want me to go with you?”

I want him to go everywhere with me, but it’s hard enough for him to leave the apartment as is, and now, coming to the end of his regular season, it’s essentially impossible.

Not to mention, the attention is overwhelming for him, and the pressure from the media, fans, and upper management since his return has been taking its toll. He’s been trying to play it cool, but I’ve noticed it eating away at him.

“That’s okay. I’ll go tomorrow after you head on your road trip instead.”

Ryan’s stunning smile sparkles. “Read with me?”

“God.” My head falls back. “Talk dirty to me, why don’t you.”

Slinging a leg over his lap, I straddle him.

One hand splayed over the expanse of my back, Ryan leans forward to grab my most current book from the coffee table.

“What’s this one about?” he asks, handing it off.

---