Steam (Homecoming Hearts #4)(17)

That was stupid, he told himself as he made coffee downstairs in the open kitchen part of the lodge. His dad would never mistreat any animal, let alone a dog. But Trent still wondered if he was feeling brave enough to visit his dad again so soon to check up on them both and allay his fears.

He leaned against the kitchen counter in his sweatpants and hoodie, taking in what was going to be his home for the next couple of months. The cabin was starting to warm up now with a fire going in the fireplace. Trent was hoping he wouldn’t have to swaddle himself every night just to avoid freezing to death. He was used to sleeping in the nude.

It would also mean he wouldn’t have to resort to evening swims to warm up in future. It would probably be best to avoid the pool for a while if that was where the British dude was going to be hanging out. Trent had embarrassed himself twice in front of the guy now, and he didn’t look forward to doing it a third time. He probably thought Trent was a total monosyllabic asshole.

Aside from being freezing when he’d first entered yesterday, Trent had to admit he liked the staff cabin he’d been allocated. It was becoming cozier as the temperature crawled up, and Trent had to admit he’d always been a sucker for a log fire having grown up around snow. It happily crackled now as he padded around the main room of the cabin.

The open plan of a kitchen, den and dining room all rolled into one made it feel even more intimate. The floors, walls and furnishings were all made of the same dark wood, but the sofa coverings, throw pillows and big fluffy rug by the fireplace were a pleasant cream. The lampshades and dining chair covers were a deep forest green. Artifacts from the local Arapaho tribe decorated the walls in a tasteful way. Trent was part Arapaho on his mom’s side, so he appreciated seeing her culture being treated respectfully. He suspected whoever lived here last had taken it upon themselves to spruce the place up, rather than relying on the resort to do it for them.

Off from the main room was a bathroom and a single storage closet filled with spare bedding and cleaning products. Creaky wooden stairs led up to a half floor above where his double bed sat. There was a balcony that looked down on the rest of the cabin making the whole place feel connected. Trent kept finding himself idly walking over to it whenever he was getting dressed or undressed.

Yes, he could see himself being happy enough here during his stay. At least there was internet and the TV had Netflix. If his dad refused to talk to him, he’d veg out and eat junk for a change. If Barry didn’t like what that did to his body, he’d just have to shove it.

Not that Trent was planning on staying put for three months. In fact, he was already gearing up for his first snowboarding session. He felt electric with anticipation. Having spent a good chunk of his youth on the slopes when he wasn’t on a stage, he’d missed the simple joy of throwing himself down the side of a mountain over and over again.

Being near the end of the season on what was already a quiet resort, the slopes were sparsely populated when Trent headed out midmorning. He’d bought his own snowboard and gear, ordering it to be delivered to the cabin along with his weights. If he was going to be at the resort for three months, he wasn’t going to mess around borrowing kit. He knew what the best brands to buy were thanks to his previous experience. As he took the lift up the side of the mountain to one of the medium slopes to ease himself back in, he felt comfortable blending in with the other skiers. Just an ordinary guy for once.

The same could not be said for all the guests out on the snow.

As the ski lift slowly brought him upward, Trent glanced down at the beginners’ slope. His eyes were immediately assaulted by a riotous jacket of a hot pink camouflage pattern, hot pink trousers, goggles and gloves, contrasted with a black snowboard and toque, complete with fluffy pom-pom. Trent would have assumed it was a woman, but the lift was close enough to the ground that when the person took off their hat and glasses, looking up as they took a breath, he could recognize them.

It was the British dude.

Trent sighed and looked away. Was he cursed to keep running into this guy everywhere he went? For some unfathomable reason, as soon as Trent realized it was the same guy, his mind went straight back to the image from the night before of his svelte body disappearing into the outdoor pool, tight black Speedos barely concealing his junk.

“For fuck’s sake,” Trent muttered to himself.

He’d seen countless guys in various stages of undress on numerous tours and sets. Hell, he himself hardly bothered to cover up if it was inconvenient and he was among friends. His Below Zero buddies had seen it all, he had no doubt, and more to the point, no shame. He wasn’t judging this guy for practically skinny dipping, especially when he obviously had thought he was alone. So why was the image burned into Trent’s retinas?

He shook his head and tried to push the issue aside. So what? He was a creative person, he found appeal in all kinds of different things. There was evidently something about this guy that had captured his imagination and that was it.

Hurtling down the mountain on his first run in years helped to push all unessential thoughts from Trent’s mind. It was just him and the snow and it was blissful. His heart was pounding by the time he had ridden his way to the base again, despite it not being a tricky route. There was nothing quite like snowboarding.

The distraction didn’t last though. When Trent rode the lift up a second time, the Brit was still struggling on the same patch of snow, falling over himself. And the third. By Trent’s fourth ride up, the guy had his phone out. From the way he was looking at it, Trent would have to guess he was watching online tutorials on how to ride a goddamned snowboard.