The Right Move (Windy City Series Book 2)

“Camping? Who the hell goes camping in Chicago in the middle of winter?” Indy asks while adding two more sweatshirts into her overnight bag.

“I don’t think it’s real camping. Annie called it glamping, whatever the hell that means, and Ethan said the whole place is heated. We’re just going to do dinner on the grill and eat outside.”

“I can’t believe you, of all people, are down for this. Do you know how dirty it is to camp? Are you sure you want to get in with these people? What if you have to start doing this kind of stuff all the time?”

“I take it you’re not big into camping.”

“Ryan,” she deadpans. “Look at me. Do I look like I’m big into camping? I was hoping for a nice dinner where I could dress up and wear some cute shoes. I like having central heat and a place to plug in my hair tools. Are you positive you want to go?”

I place my duffel by the front door. “Yeah, I do. This might sound pathetic, but I miss being outdoors. I’m looking forward to being outside of this apartment without people watching everything I do.”

Indy’s expression morphs with understanding. “No, that’s not pathetic. You’re right. I’m sorry. That will be nice for you.”

She takes a seat on the bench in the entryway, slipping her feet into her white converse that are covered in stitched doodles.

“What’s with all the stitching on those shoes?”

She holds up one to examine it. “I like sewing and one day, I thought it’d be cool to sew a pattern onto the canvas. They’re little doodles of things from my life. My friends, places I’ve been. That kind of stuff.”

As Indy ties them up, I take a closer look.

An airplane is sewn by the outside ankle of the left shoe. There’s a hockey stick and a Stanley Cup on the right. An ocean and sunset which I assume is Florida. A head of chestnut curls and I could recognize that as representing my sister even from a mile away. A number thirty-eight is nestled into Boston’s skyline for her friend Rio, I guess. I don’t let myself think too far into that because I’m just grateful there’s nothing regarding her shitty ex that she would quite literally be walking around with.

I’m not sure how you’d sew a jackass who made the biggest mistake of his life, but I’m confident Indy could figure it out if she really wanted to.

I’ve always found Indy’s Converse random and a bit strange, but now I find myself wondering what I have to do to get myself added to them.

“Ready?” she asks, wearing a much brighter smile than she was twenty minutes ago when I reminded her she’s going to be sleeping in a tent tonight.

I grab both our bags, sling them over, my shoulder and follow her out of the apartment.

“How many cars do you have?” Indy asks as I drive at a snail’s pace through the campgrounds, looking for our camping site’s number.

“Two. This one and the Audi.”

“Don’t get me wrong, both a Range Rover and an Audi are way out of my price range, but you’ve got money money. I thought you’d go more extravagant.”

“Indy, what part of my lifestyle seems extravagant to you?”

“That’s true.” She nods. “But why? You have more money than you’ll ever know what to do with.”

“It seems wasteful. I save and invest. I have a whole college fund set up for Stevie’s kids if she decides to have them, but I doubt she’ll be using it now that those kids are going to be half the most over-the-top, extravagant guy I know.”

“Zanders’ children are going to be wearing Tom Ford and Prada to school.”

“Unless Vee gets them to love thrifting as much as she does.”

Peeking over to Indy, she wears a soft smile as she leans back on the headrest.

“Half of my income though…” I continue. “I donate to charity.”

“Really? Where to?”

“Well, currently I’m housing this flight attendant who is terrible at cleaning up after herself. Total charity case. Tragic story, really.”

She lightly smacks my arm, laughing. “Shut up.”

“I donate to Zee’s foundation, Active Minds, but my main focus is Chicago’s public school system. Making sure kids have the textbooks they need for class and food for lunch. And part of my shoe deal is that every year my sponsor has to match my donation in gifting said shoe to kids who need something to wear in order to be active. But there’s so much more that needs to be done. It feels overwhelming.”

Keeping my eyes out for our campsite, the silence begins to take over. Eventually, I look over to find Indy staring at me with the softest brown eyes I’ve ever seen.

“I didn’t tell you that to make you think I’m some great guy. I don’t really tell anyone about it for that reason alone. Just assume it’s for tax purposes so you don’t get all sentimental over it.”

Biting her lower lip, she shakes her head, but my emotional roommate’s eyes can’t help from shining. “I don’t think you’re great. I have no opinion about this whatsoever. I. Feel. Nothing.”

“You should work on your acting skills before we get to the campsite.”

Indy heaves a broken breath. “Okay, I’ll try.”

I pull into our numbered lot and park next to Ethan’s truck. About twenty feet ahead of us sits three tents on individual platform decks with stairs leading to each one. The tent itself shouldn’t be referred to as a tent at all. It’s more of a tiny house made of glass walls and canvas covering the sides and back to give the illusion of camping outdoors when in reality, you’re completely indoors.

“Damn,” Indy exhales. “So, this is how rich people camp.”

Luckily, it’s an unseasonably warm day for this time of year, but even if it weren’t, the fire is roaring in the middle of the site, and the cabins seem to be plenty warm.

Ron stands at the grill to the left of the cabins wearing cargo pants, a flannel shirt, and a goddamn puffer vest. Maybe there was a better way to get on my boss’s good side rather than having to spend the night out here with him and his wife and oh, dear God. I’m going to have to see what he looks like when he wakes up in the morning.

“Maybe we should go home.” I switch the gear into reverse.

“Are those cargo pants freaking you out as much as they’re scaring me?”

“It’s like we drove an hour outside of Chicago and he became a different person. This is a bad idea. We should’ve waited for a normal dinner invite. We could lie for the course of a dinner, but a whole fucking sleepover?”

“Come on.” Indy sits up with excitement. “This looks fun.”

“What happened to ‘I’m not big into camping’?”

“This is hardly camping, and I’m always down for some social interaction. Plus, there are no fans around to stare at you like you’re some sort of magical all-powerful being.”

Indy reaches for the door handle, but I click the lock in place before she can get to it. Brown eyes roll with exaggeration when the door refuses to open for her.

Call me old-fashioned, I don’t care, but I have yet and will not let her open her own door.

Rounding the car, I unlock it on the key fob and open the passenger side to find Indy wearing an unimpressed expression. “You’re so weird about that.”

“I’m not weird. You’ve just never had someone take care of you before, so you may as well get used to it.”

I sling both our bags over my shoulder when Ron waves us over. “Welcome! Did you find it all right?”

“We did. Thank you for inviting us.”

I allow Indy to walk ahead of me, but before she takes too many steps, she reaches back to place her hand in mine. It’s small but reassuring, so I wrap mine around hers and hold on in hopes we can pull this off.

“This is so amazing. I had no idea this was out here,” Indy says as Caroline exits her tent.

“Oh, you made it! Ethan and Annie just arrived too,” Caroline bursts. “How was the drive?”

“It was beautiful.”

“Nice to get out of the city, huh?”

“Yeah,” I interrupt, exhaling. “It really is.”

Ethan and Annie come out to greet us and after all the hellos are said, Ron points us in the direction of our cabin. With our bags in tow, I follow Indy up the steps.

“This is…revealing,” she says.

“Remind me not to go outside unless Ron and Caroline have their canvas pulled down. The last thing I need is to see my boss wearing his pajamas and spooning his wife.”

“You think he wears pajamas? He seems more like a bare-ass-naked kind of guy.”

“Jesus, Ind.”

Before I’m fully inside, I’m releasing the cord to the canvas that covers the front of our cabin, giving us a moment of privacy.

Indy stops in the doorway. “Cozy.”

While yes, the inside of the cabin is comfortable and warm, the coziness she’s referring to is the single bed that takes up seventy percent of the room.

“You take the bed. I can sleep on the floor.” I drop my bag on the three feet of floor space I’ll be sleeping on tonight.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Indy plops her duffel bag on the mattress. “I’m going to pile the other side with pillows anyway, you may as well sleep next to me. But don’t worry, Shay, I don’t have cooties.”

Cooties are not what I’m worried about. Indy loves to give me shit that I’m afraid of girls, but the truth is the only woman who has ever truly terrified me is her. Her intelligence, charisma, and sharp little attitude are the most frightening things her, because I’ve never felt as weak as I do when I’m around her.

Indy gets her toiletries organized in the world’s smallest bathroom while I layer up in preparation to eat dinner outside, slipping my wool coat over my hooded sweatshirt.

“Here, let me help you with that,” she insists, situating my hood on the outside of my coat. I turn around to face her as she begins slipping the buttons on my jacket through the holes. “You can work on your bucket list tonight. It would be a good night to work on casually touching in public.”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Watch it or I’ll work on my bucket list by kicking your ass out of bed and sleeping alone.”

I bite my lip to hold back my smile while Indy mirrors me.

Tucking my ears into my beanie, I slip Indy’s lavender one over her head. The color looks nice against her blonde hair and brown eyes, but then again, she looks nice in just about anything.

“Let’s go help with dinner before they think we’re in here fucking.”

She raises a brow. “Trust me. If we were fucking, they’d know. I’m not very quiet.”

Instantly, I turn away from her, putting my hands on top of my head, and attempting to keep my blood from flooding south. “Jesus, Blue. Not funny. Are you trying to make me go have dinner next to my GM with a goddamn hard-on in my pants?”

“That’s one way to convince him you’re into me.” She giggles mischievously.

No one needs to be convinced. It’s fairly fucking obvious.

Curiosity laces her tone. “Did it work?”

As I turn around, her eyes immediately drop to my crotch. Her smile falls and I watch that pretty, slender throat of hers move in a deep swallow.

“What do you think? I can’t exactly think about how loud you might be in bed without all the blood rushing straight to my cock.”

“Oh,” she breathes.

I rub my palms over my face. “I’ll be out in a minute. Good god, woman.”