Page 23 of Playing Dirty
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.
Six
Theo
Though I was sent to Vermont with a mission from Wyatt, I’ve taken up a side quest of far more importance dubbed: Operation Avoid Madden At All Costs.
It went into effect promptly after the incident on the mountain day one, but it’s clear I’m failing miserably with the follow-through. Even when I wake up alone every morning, thinking I’ll manage to make it through the day without any incidents or run-ins, it doesn’t take long to be proven wrong.
Because Madden is fucking everywhere.
We’ve been here five days now, and I swear to God, every time I turn around, there he is, within spitting distance. And I’m not talking about at night when we’re sharing a room or at our standard “family” meals to start and end the day.
I’m talking about all the other hours in the day when we’re supposed tobe blissfully free of one another but apparently aren’t.
Day one started off this chain of unfortunate events out on the slopes—which I’m still ridiculously sore from. Then the next day, he was in the same to-go deli I stopped at to get lunch, and we quite literally ran into each other in the doorway of one of the public restrooms in the main lodge a couple hours later. After that, it was the gift shop, then the sauna and pool in the main lodge, and don’t even get me started on the moment I found him sitting in my sunrise nook yesterday morning.
Fuck, last night, when I went to the on-site gym—looking to work out some of my frustrations in a healthier, more productive way—I walked in to find him running on the treadmill. Shirtless, I might add, though that’s an entirely different layer of annoyance.
I mean, honestly. Who works out in public without a shirt on?
And while this resort isn’t the largest one around, it’s still plenty big enough to prevent us from running into each other multiple times a day. Or so I thought. Fate—or my really shitty luck—has proven otherwise, because no matter how hard I try, I can’t escape him.
Even with calling down to the front desk and having a quick chat with good ole Jeremy every day, I’m still stuck sharing a room with Madden. Sharing a bed, my space, my fucking life with this total stranger who I want nothing to do with.
I’m so desperate for a reprieve, I came straight back to the room after breakfast this morning. It’s not exactly how I wanted to spend my day, but I binge almost all of theEchoesmini-series on Netflix by the time a keycard disengages the lock, alerting me of Madden’s inevitable return to change before dinner.
Rustling of his jacket and snowpants sounds from near the door for a minute before he comes into view, stripped down to his thermals. Thelayers of fabric cling to his body, molding to every muscle like a wetsuit, and his sweat-slicked hair sticks up haphazardly from taking off his beanie.
“Oh, hey,” he says, his movements halting when he notices me lying on the bed. “I didn’t think you’d be in here already.”
Already?
Frowning, I glance at the clock to see it’s…barely two in the afternoon. Literallyhoursearlier than either of us have come in for the day since getting here, and yet here he is. Jesus Christ, it’s like he knows exactly where I am at any given time and makes sure he pops up.
“Yeah,” I mutter, my gaze flicking to him briefly. “Was a little sore and wanted to take the day off.”
He nods, a few strands of hair flopping onto his forehead. “I get it. I took a bit of a tumble myself today, so I wanted to relax a bit before dinner.”
I don’t respond, because really, what the hell am I supposed to say to that? I’m sure as hell not gonna offer for him to join me here when the entire point of me turning into a recluse for the day was toavoidhim.
So instead, I shift my attention away from the six-foot-two bane of my existence in favor of my show. Which works…for all of thirty seconds. I’m on edge with every movement he makes while rifling through his bag, making all kinds of noise and drawing my attention back to him. By the time he’s dropped his clean clothes on the mattress, I have no clue what is happening with Leni and Gina on the screen. I’ve been dragged into an episode of Madden’s World instead.
He’s completely oblivious to my blatant staring when he drops down on the foot of the bed and starts stripping out of his socks, only to notice what I’ve been watching on the screen.
“Oh, this is a good one,” he says, the muscles of his upper back flexing beneath the black fabric of his shirt. “You like thrillers?”
I shrug, despite him facing away. “Sometimes, yeah.”
He glances over his shoulder, his bright hazel eyes finding mine. “If you’re ever looking for a good mind-fuck, you should watchBodies.It’s a British mystery thriller mini-series.”
