Page 33 of Playing Dirty

Nine

Madden

When I wake up the next morning, I find Theo fast asleep on the other side of the bed.

I didn’t hear him come in, so it must’ve been in the early hours of the morning—after I finally succumbed to sleep while waiting for him to come back to the room.

I’m surprised I slept at all, what with the weird, unsettled feeling coiled in my stomach ever since he stormed off. As more time passed, a worry crept in at the thought of him finding some random nook or cranny to pass out in rather than coming back to the room and facing me. Not knowing if his pride would allow him to take it that far either.

So I can’t ignore the relief I feel seeing his peaceful face beside me.

I don’t see him for the rest of the day after slipping out of bed, though. He skips out on breakfast again, and dinner too, neither of whichare surprising to me. And unlike last night, I don’t bother coming up with excuses when his dad asks where he is.

I’m grateful for a bit of space—knowing the two of us could use it in order to not go at each other’s throats again—but part of me can’t help but wonder where he’s managed to hide out all day. The resort might be rather large, but there are only so many places to go in an effort to avoid me, and I subconsciously find myself keeping more of an eye out for him.

Even as I head down to the hot tub behind the main lodge—needing to relieve some of the tension knotting my back and shoulders—I scan the halls and pathways. But just like the rest of the day, I come up short by the time I’m climbing into the steaming water.

Despite being in peak physical form thanks to the grueling conditioning I go through as a college athlete, I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck. I’m using muscles that I swear never existed until I was navigating down the slopes, and paired with all this tension Theo’s been causing, I need something to help me relax.

But even when I lean back and close my eyes, allowing the heat to soothe my aching muscles while the cool, gentle breeze floats over my exposed skin, I can’t stop my mind from wandering back to a set of light-green eyes that have begun to haunt me.

The jets are loud enough that I barely register the sound of snow crunching beneath someone’s feet, and it’s only the soft “shit” I catch floating on the breeze that has my head lifting and eyes sliding open.

Call it intuition or foresight, but part of me knew I’d find Theo when I opened my eyes. Yet the reality of him in a Leighton Baseball hoodie and swim trunks, with his towel in hand, near the edge of the hot tub, still manages to steal my ability to think.

It’s been like that most of the week, his presence causing my intestinesto twist and my stomach to do little flips, but it’s become significantly more noticeable the past twenty-four hours. First at the bar, then in the lobby last night.

And now as he meets my gaze through the rising steam.

One hand brushes through his hair before he motions toward me. “I… I didn’t realize you were out here.”

Yeah, well, that makes two of us, doesn’t it?

Despite my annoyance with him, I can’t deny the rush of relief at knowing where he is, and it’s the only reason I keep the jab to myself. Instead, I shrug and offer simply, “It was too nice to pass up before we go home.”

“Yeah, I had the same thought,” he murmurs, glancing between the water and me.

Discomfort lines his features as he grapples with bolting or joining me, and finally, I take pity on him by asking, “Are you planning to stand there freezing all night, or are you getting in?”

“If you’d rather be alone, I can g—”

“It’s fine,” I cut in. Motioning toward the other side of the jacuzzi, I add, “It’s not like there isn’t plenty of room for us both.”

After all, we’ve been sharing a bed for almost a week.

Taking me at my word, Theo tosses his towel on one of the benches nearby and reaches for the hem of his hoodie. I avert my gaze, forcing myself to ignore him as he drags it over his head and throws it next to his towel.

I think the most irritating thing about him isn’t his shitty attitude or spiteful tongue but the way my body reacts to him. I hate it, especially after the hot and cold bullshit over the past couple days, mixing together emotions too potent to unpack in his presence.

Unfortunately for me, my plan to avoid the temptation my newstepbrother poses is foiled the second he lets out a sharp hiss. My attention snaps to where his half-naked form is slowly descending the stairs, finding his teeth sinking into his plush lower lip with a grimace.

“Shit, it’s hot.”

My laugh is instant. “Isn’t that kinda the point of ahottub?”

He rolls his eyes before shooting a look my way that screamsno shit, Sherlock.“It feels like my feet are on fire after being in the snow.” There’s a slightly playful undertone in his voice when he adds, “Someone took the only pair of slippers from the room, and I didn’t want my shoes all wet after getting out.”

I shrug. “Sorry, not sorry.”