Page 10 of Playing Dirty (Leighton U #4)

If he feels my gaze on him, he doesn’t make it known, instead tapping away on his phone until the waiter comes back with his card and the receipt for him to sign.

“Thank you so much. I hope you both enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Thanks, James,” Madden murmurs, addressing our waiter by name.

As he speaks, his lips pull back in the most genuine smile I’ve ever seen on him, flashing straight, perfect teeth at the waiter. A tiny dimple I’d never noticed before indents the apple of his cheek, just below his left eye, and it causes my stomach to flip and twist.

The waiter, James , returns Madden’s smile with one of his own before heading off to check on another table, and my intestines only knot up more.

I chalk it up to the eggs not settling well, making a mental note to not order them tomorrow, while Madden scribbles out a tip and his signature on the receipt.

The smile is still on his face when he drops the pen back in the folder and glances up at me.

He looks like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t have the chance before I abruptly shove back from the table and rise.

“Well, I’m gonna hit the slopes, then,” I say curtly, my gaze shifting to the ski lifts out the window.

Between the weird feeling in my stomach and my desperate need for the solitude of the mountain, I have every intention of making a speedy escape.

Besides, we’ve done our duty with regard to family time, though the two people who are actually family decided not to show.

Except, after shoving my chair back in, I make the mistake of looking at Madden before walking away.

The smile he was wearing is gone now, almost like it was never there.

In its place is a forlorn expression, borderlining on defeat, with the way his eyes have dulled from polished bronze to a muted, lifeless amber.

Paired with the way his shoulders have sagged while he stares vacantly out the window, he could be the textbook definition of crestfallen.

And for the life of me, I don’t understand why it makes me feel guilty.

It takes him a second to realize I’m still standing there, and he schools his features when his attention returns to me.

“You good? Forget a room key or something?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if he wants to join me on the mountain, but the words can’t fully form enough to leave my mouth.

Probably because I know spending any amount of time with him will likely lead to one or both of us saying something shitty all over again, and I’d really like one freaking day of peace before everything inevitably implodes.

Which is why I end up shoving down the errant thought and simply mutter, “Uh, no. Just…thanks. For breakfast.”

Any spark that was left in his eyes extinguishes immediately, and his shoulder lifts in a half-hearted shrug.

“Don’t mention it.”

Thanks to frigid temperatures and windy conditions encroaching over most of New England, the runs are relatively empty when I head out onto the mountain. I don’t mind it, though. I spend the better part of the day enjoying the cool air and fresh powder in blissful seclusion.

Mostly, that is.

Surprisingly, I catch Madden on the ski lift twice, the two of us riding up in awkward silence before going our separate ways at the top. And while those moments are fleeting at best, it serves as a reminder for me to check if there’s another room available when I head back in for the day.

I’ve been at it for a few hours by the time I decide to make my way to some of the more difficult runs, hitting one of the longer black diamonds off near the edge of the resort. The trail runs through the woods, merging with one of the more popular blue squares about halfway to the bottom.

And it’s at that point, right when I break out of the trees, when some kid comes flying out of nowhere from behind, cutting me off without warning.

I do my best to swerve and avoid him, but the sudden, jerky movement causes the front of my board to clip the snow.

And the unfortunate end result is me tumbling what feels like a hundred yards down the mountain, only stopping when I finally crash land in some powder off to the left of the trail.

Pain radiates from my shoulder as I roll to my back. The crash leaves me disoriented and a bit breathless, and I’m still catching my breath when a dark shadow appears over me.

“Fuck, Theo. Are you okay?”

My eyes adjust enough to find Madden, of all people, kneeling off to my side. He’s in the process of unclipping me from my board and spearing it into the snow beside his own when he notices me watching him.

“Are you okay?” he asks again.

My shoulder is killing me, and there’s a good chance I’ll be sporting some nasty bruises tomorrow, but otherwise, I feel fine. Nothing some ice and pain relievers won’t fix.

“Mhmm,” I mumble, still doing my best to regain my bearings.

Madden’s brows are knit in concern when he sees the effort it takes to push my goggles off my face, and he pulls out his phone. “You sure? It looked like you landed on your head.”

“It was more shoulder than anything, I think.” I wince in pain before asking, “Were you the one who took me out?”

A frown appears when he glances down at me. “What? No, it was some idiot kid. I didn’t even know it was you until I got over here.”

His phone is up to his ear a few seconds later, and a flare of annoyance runs through me.

“Who are you calling?”

He ignores me rather than answering, and when I make a move to sit up, his palm lands flat on my chest. “Would you stop being an insufferable dick and hold still?”

“You’re the one keeping me embedded in a snowbank, but I’m the dick?” I growl under my breath. Not that he would’ve heard it anyway, he’s too busy rambling off the situation to whoever is on the other end of the phone.

It’s only when he gives them the trail and our location that I realize what he’s doing, and it sends a shot of heat to my stomach before it slowly creeps into my bloodstream.

“Ski patrol? Really?” I hiss when he hangs up. “You called fucking ski patrol ?”

If he’s put off by my irritation, he doesn’t show it. He simply pockets his phone and shrugs. “Someone needs to check you out, just in case. They’ll be here in less than five, but they said to keep your helmet on and try not to move your neck too much in the meantime.”

“Why? I told you, I’m fine. ”

To prove the point, I make another attempt to get up, but it’s met with the same result: his palm pressed firmly against my chest.

“Theo, can you just wait ?” he chides. His eyes soften, taking on an imploring look before adding, “Please?”

For some reason, that one word gives me pause. Enough to slump back into the snow and let out a disgruntled huff while I stare up at the sky above me. I know he’s right. I’m just really annoyed about it—and the fact that he’s watched me make a fool of myself twice today.

“Thank you,” he says softly, pulling my gaze back to him.

I hadn’t realized he’d gotten closer while he was on the phone, but now that some of my adrenaline and aggravation have faded, I can’t not notice. He’s leaning toward me, our faces only a couple feet apart, while his hand still rests on my chest.

My body tenses, feeling the intensity of his stare as his eyes dart back and forth between mine, and it tightens into a coil when my brain registers his face getting closer to mine now.

“What—”

“Unbuckling your helmet,” he says while he reaches for the strap beneath my chin.

“I thought you said to leave it on.”

He nods, eyes flashing up to mine. “I am. It just looked like it was pressing on your throat.”

Something’s pressing on my throat all right, or rather creating a knot nearly impossible to breathe around when he’s this close.

The brush of his smooth, cool skin against my jaw while he works on the clasp has the same effect as his hand did earlier—both at breakfast and last night at the front desk. It’s almost like he’s a ball of static electricity, sending little shocks into my body every time we touch .

I turn my head slightly when I glance away, feeling squirmy and off-balance from his nearness. But the hand that was beneath my chin gently corrects the move.

“Stay lying straight if you can,” he murmurs before a few fingers slide backward. His touch lights a path of fire over my skin before coming to rest at the side of my neck.

And, God, he’s close. Too close.

At this distance, I can see his irises are more of a warm, rich brown when the sunlight hits them. I notice the slightest dotting of freckles on the bridge of his nose, giving him an air of innocence that doesn’t quite fit with the whole tattooed bad-boy vibe.

His lips part slightly, creating little puffs of steam and vapor in the air between us, and I swear, I might combust on the spot when his gaze drops to my mouth for the briefest moment.

Because, with one little glance, my mind latches on to the ridiculous, illogical thought that…

he’s going to kiss me. It screams in my brain like a banshee, causing my blood pressure to skyrocket with equal parts fear and anticipation.

Shit, shit, shit.

In a panic, I knock his hand away and sit up, ready to put as much distance between us as I can. Only it’s a mistake, because we’re now inches apart and damn near breathing the same air, our helmets clipping each other with my sudden movement.

“Can you just get out of my face?” I ask, my tone nearly a plea.

But it’s not enough. He doesn’t move. Not a fucking inch.

Instead, he presses his palm to my chest slowly, attempting to push me back to the ground as he murmurs, “You really should stay lying down and wait for the ski patrol to take us down.”

“What do you care, MadDog ?” I snap, feeling my blood pulsing through my veins. “And don’t you dare say it’s because we’re family when we both know that’s horseshit.”

The sharpness in my voice doesn’t cause him to physically pull away like I’d hoped, but there’s a flare of frustration in his eyes before his jaw tenses ever so slightly.

“I don’t know, Theo. Maybe because I’m not some heartless douche who’d just leave you here alone and in pain,” he says bitterly, adding, “Or for you to make it even worse if something is wrong. Which you’re going to if you don’t—”

“I’d argue that me breaking my neck or having Jell-O for a brain would be a good thing for you,” I cut in.

This time he does recoil, his hand drawing back and falling to his lap.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“That you and the rest of your buddies at Blackmore would have one less Leighton player to worry about this season. A power hitter, no less.” A sneer pulls at my lips, and I continue digging in harder, hoping to finally push him to the point of leaving me alone.

“Come to think of it, I’m a little surprised you didn’t take matters into your own hands and push me off the ski lift when you had the chance. ”

He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, blinking a few times and shaking his head before a humorless laugh leaves him. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

I don’t say anything at all, just glare at him.

In the silence, I can hear my pulse pounding in my ears.

Can feel the blood rushing beneath my skin to the point where I feel like an artery might burst. Every muscle in my body is knotted up tight, coiled in anticipation, in frustration, in… something else I can’t really describe.

All I know is I don’t fucking like it .

Him.

“You know what? Fuck this,” he growls.

Shoving up from the ground, he takes a few steps away and grabs his board from where he’d speared it into the snow.

His movements are jerky as he buckles his feet back into the bindings.

It’s all happening so quickly, I don’t even have time to breathe in relief from the newfound space between us.

Yet even without the panic and ample distance from one another, my throat still feels thick as I watch him.

His eyes have hardened when he glances down at me, similar to earlier up at the restaurant after breakfast. Gone is the concern, and in its place is simply…indifference.

The rumble of a snowmobile engine grows louder as it approaches, and it has Madden’s gaze shifting over his shoulder before falling on me once more.

“Ski patrol is here,” he observes blandly. “Maybe you’ll actually let them help you without questioning their motives.”

Then, without a backward glance, he takes off down the mountain. And though it was my intention to make him leave me alone so I could hopefully find some peace or reprieve in his absence, I realize how wrong I was.

Because as I stare helplessly after him, all I really feel is guilt.