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“Good God,” they echo.
Turning around, I’m not so pleasantly surprised to find Indy strutting into the building like she owns the place, wearing a soft purple sundress on this unseasonably warm October day. Her high-top white Converse are embroidered with colorful shapes, and her hair and makeup are re-done, looking like a completely different woman than I left at the apartment a few hours ago.
“Shay, you are the luckiest man alive. Please tell me you’re hitting that.”
My head whips around to my teammate. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“Well, if you don’t try, I will.”
“Dom,” Ethan warns, trying to hold back his laughter. “Ryan is about to combust, so I’d tone it back there, buddy.”
Shifting my attention back to Indy, her eyes wander the practice facility. Even though she’s clearly out of her element, nothing about her stance seems nervous. And her being comfortable in a place where she has no business being is something else I’ve quickly learned about her. I don’t think the girl knows how to be embarrassed.
Multiple pairs of eyes stick to the blonde beauty as Ethan watches me with amusement.
“Stop looking at her,” I warn. “Go hit the showers or get to the airport or just about anything other than look at her. She’s not available.”
“So, you are hitting that.” Dom nods in approval.
“No, I’m not hitting that. And neither are any of you. Stop looking at her or she’ll be the last thing you ever fucking see.”
“Ooooh. Protective Shay is here, and his sister is nowhere to be found. Someone write this date down. History is being made, people. Ryan Shay gives a fuck about someone other than Stevie and something other than basketball.”
“Dom, you’re about to get your ass kicked. If not by Ryan then by me.” Ethan shakes his head at our big man.
I ignore the retort Dom comes up with as I quickly make my way to Indy while she wanders into our practice space.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, taking her arm to pull her into the corner of the gym.
“Well, hello to you too.”
“How’d you get in here? This is a closed practice.”
She circles an index finger around her face. “Charming. Remember?”
Of course, my overconfident roommate could talk her way past security and into our closed practice while the gates outside are lined with eager fans, hopeful for a photo or autograph.
Her eyes fix to the ice bag strapped to my shoulder. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Indy, you can’t be here.” I want to add especially not looking like that but she could be wearing a potato sack and all my teammates’ eyes would still be on her.
She holds out a key. “The key you made me didn’t work. I went to buy curtains and when I got back, I couldn’t get inside.”
“You’re sure?” I take the key from her.
“Positive.”
“Okay. I’ll get you mine, but we need to get you out of here.”
“Shay!” I hear my name coming from the offices that line the top half of the court. “Come here for a moment. I’d like a word.”
Ron Morgan stands in the doorway of his office, hands tucked in his suit pant pockets.
“Fuck,” I exhale, turning back to Indy. “Stay here. Don’t move, and don’t talk to anyone either.”
“Cranky this morning,” she mutters under her breath as I jog away from her.
I hold my hand out when I reach the office. “Mr. Morgan.”
