Page 12 of The Right Move

“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.”

He shoots me an unimpressed glare before placing a piping hot mug of black coffee on the counter in front of me, followed by a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and wheat toast.

I pull my gaze up to meet his. Blue-green eyes bore into mine, waiting for me to say something, but I can’t. The edge of frustration he wore last night has washed away slightly and he looks softer, kinder.

“You wanted to have breakfast together,” he reminds me, nodding towards my plate.

He remembered, although I forgot all about that after my little meltdown. I figured I would be greeted with an eviction notice after last night, not with a homemade breakfast.

This meal is an olive branch. And even though he was a royal jackass, I did throw a shoe at his door, so I don’t know that he’s the one who should be apologizing.

“Was it the bright pink ones?” he asks, pulling my stare away from his bedroom.

“Hmm?”

“The shoe you threw at my door. Was it your pink heels?” He motions to the mess in my doorway.

I guess I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. “Probably. Those are my I-don’t-take-shit shoes.”

A slight smile tugs at the corner of his lip, but I don’t get my hopes up for a genuine grin. I’ve quickly learned that Ryan Shay finds me neither funny nor charming.

He holds a fork out for me as he stands opposite the island, but before he begins to eat his breakfast, he cleans the two pans he used, dries them, and replaces them to their rightful home.

“Sorry about last night,” I finally apologize with my mouth full. “I’ll scrub that scuff off your door.”

He doesn’t respond, shifting his attention to his plate as he begins to eat his breakfast.

“You don’t like bacon?” He points his fork at my plate.

“I’m a vegetarian.”

His eyes bounce to mine with horror before he swoops up my bacon and slips it between his deliciously full lips. “And you don’t drink coffee?”

“I love coffee. But I don’t drink hot coffee. I’m waiting for it to cool down, then I’ll add some ice. And creamer. Lots of creamer.”

His brows furrow, probably wondering how he landed the world’s most difficult roommate. “You only drink iced coffee? What about in the winter?”

“It could be negative twenty, and I’ll hold an iced coffee in my hand while I wear my winter gloves.”

“Are you a Starbucks girl? A bit basic don’t you think, Indiana?”

My eyes narrow at the name. “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.”

His chest moves slightly, and I give myself an internal pat on the back for pulling the smallest silent laugh from Ryan Shay.

We finish our breakfasts in silence. Ryan doesn’t look up at me, but I can’t stop my wandering eye from falling over him as he eats. He really is a beautiful man. Square jaw with a light dusting of scruff. Lips a bit full that I can’t help but wonder how soft they feel. Eyes that are light and bright, alluring even if he doesn’t mean to be. He’s not the nicest, not the most outgoing, but attractive, nonetheless. The oddest thing about him might be that he doesn’t realize this.

“What?” he asks without looking up at me.

I’m not embarrassed being caught red-handed, so I keep my attention locked on him. “Do you have any friends?”

“Yes.”

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