Page 17 of Playing Dirty
His gaze collides with mine again. “Because my father has become way too comfortable making decisions for other people without running it by them first.”
I don’t miss the bitterness tainting his voice. His anger with his father—and yeah, even my mother—is more than justified, and it’s always been the thing to rise to the surface first. Even now, it does its job, masking everything else. But not well enough, because I catch a flash of something different lingering in his eyes, glimmering in their sage depths.
Hurt and sorrow.
It’s unexpected, and it’s enough to make me pause.
The thing is, I wasn’t thrilled when I found out about Mom and Adam’s affair either, but seeing Mom happy outweighed it for me. After watching her give her all for me as a single parent for the better half of my life, I want nothing more than for someone to take care of her; it was my plan all along, especially if I make it to the MLB. So now with Adam in the picture, I don’t have to worry about her anymore, and I’ll always feel somewhat indebted to him because of it.
It’s something my father never did. He destroyed her—both in life and after his death.
So, in Theo’s eyes, is his dad really that different than mine?
Adam might be a godsend to me, but to Theo, he’s nothing more than a selfish man who put his mother through living hell. And the whole time, the only thing he could do was stand by and watch, utterly helpless.
I’m not banking on it, but maybe there’s a way we can find some common ground in that.
Theo’s gone back to unpacking, completely oblivious to my epiphany, and I break out of my reverie enough to do the same.
The silence lingering between us is slightly less awkward now, becoming more of a skin-prickling sensation rather than a toxic fog, and I take it as a sign of progress. Or at the very least, a step in the right direction.
Unfortunately, after I come out of the bathroom from brushing my teeth, I realize the one massive problem I’ve overlooked. One that’s impossible to ignore now that he’s stripped down to nothing more than a pair of tight-fitting boxer briefs.
Theo Greyson is hot as hell.
I’d gotten an up close and personal display of him shirtless back at Thanksgiving, but this is a whole different level. With him facing away from me, my gaze travels the long, lean muscles of his back all the way down to a sculpted ass I could probably bounce a penny off of. Two dimples indent his skin just above the elastic waistband sitting low on his hips, and I curse inwardly.
Although he’s not the kind of guy I’d go for, it doesn’t take away from the truth. Him likely being straight—and my fucking stepbrother—doesn’t change that.
Theo runs his fingers through his hair, the golden-brown strands just long enough in length to start rippling with waves. But it’s his eyes—the color of soft seafoam—that stun me nearly speechless when he turns and lifts them to mine.
There’s a beat after he notices me standing there, and I swear, I see the tiniest tint of pink creep over his cheeks.
“Is this okay? I usually sleep in just my underwear.”
What the hell am I supposed to say?No? Go put on a snowsuit before getting in bed so I don’t have to think about your sinful body lying beside me all night?
Yeah, not happening. If there’s one thing I’mnotgonna do, it’s admit to any sort of attraction. Not now, when things are barely civil between us. Probably not ever.
Feigning indifference, I shrug. “Yeah, same. I don’t care if you don’t.”
He nods before disappearing into the bathroom, and I take the opportunity to get my libido in check. I’ve nearly succeeded when he returns a few minutes later, but I keep my gaze cast downward to avoid stirring it back to life.
“Left or right?”
“I’m a switch,” I reply instantly. Having been asked that question more times than I can count, the answer comes out on autopilot now.
But he already knows that, so why—
He stifles a laugh, and when I glance up, he motions toward the bed. “I meant for sleeping, not in the batter’s box, Hastings.”
Oh, right. Context clues.
“Uh, it doesn’t matter. I can do either, so whatever you wanna do.”
His brow hitches up ever so slightly. “I stand corrected. Switch it is.”
Fucking Christ.
