Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother Chapter 137

I dart away from the dining room, my pulse already quickening with the thrill of the game. Jenny didn’t come to brief me on any murderous intentions, which means I’m not the killer. Good. That means I can play innocent and sneak around without too much suspicion.

And okay, maybe I’ll take this as an excuse to snoop a little. Just for the sake of the game, of course.

The old wooden steps creak under my feet as I climb them two at a time, trying not to let the cold air from the drafty windows seep into my hoodie. The hallway up here is dim, the only light coming from a few scattered sconces casting long shadows against the walls. It’s the perfect setting for a murder mystery, really. Dark corners, creaking floors, flickering lights. The only thing missing is a thunderstorm outside.

I’m halfway down the hall when I hear the sound of footsteps behind me. I whirl around, my heart jumping, only to come face to face with Tyler, leaning casually against the doorframe of one of the bedrooms, arms crossed over his chest and a wicked grin on his face.

“Well, well, well,” he says, voice dropping into a dramatic, slightly mocking tone. “If it isn’t the sweet, innocent dancer with a dark side.”

I raise an eyebrow, trying to play along. “And what would the cocky ex-football player with a gambling debt want with me?”

He pushes off the doorframe, taking a slow step toward me. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe I think you know something you’re not telling.”

I smirk, leaning a little closer. “Maybe I do.”

He’s close enough now that I can smell his cologne, a mix of cedar and something a little sharper. He reaches up and tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear, his eyes dipping to my lips for a split second before snapping back up to mine.

“You’re not as innocent as you look, are you?” he whispers, his breath warm against my cheek.

I let out a small, breathless laugh. “Maybe role-playing is kinda hot,” I whisper back.

He grins, his hand slipping to my waist for a quick, possessive squeeze before he leans in and presses a kiss to my lips. It’s quick, almost too quick, like he’s more focused on the game than on me, but I kiss him back anyway.

He pulls back, eyes dark, and steps away, his grin morphing into a cocky smirk as he backs down the hallway. “Better watch your back, ballerina,” he calls over his shoulder. “Everyone’s a suspect.”

I roll my eyes, biting back a grin, and watch him disappear down the stairs.

*Okay. Focus, Penny. This is a game.*

I turn back down the hallway, peeking into the open doorways as I pass. The bedrooms are all more or less the same — wooden floors, thick comforters, heavy curtains, and the faint smell of pine. Nothing too out of the ordinary. But then I find a door that’s slightly ajar, and when I push it open, I find myself in what must be the lodge’s tiny library.

It’s smaller than the one downstairs, more like a little study, with a single leather armchair, a small desk, and floor-to-ceiling shelves lined with dusty, leather-bound books. There’s a tiny window on the far wall, barely big enough to let in any light, and the air is thick with the scent of old paper and cedar.

I step inside, my fingers trailing over the spines of the books, my eyes scanning the shelves for anything that might count as a “clue.”

I’m just reaching for a particularly ancient-looking tome when a voice behind me makes me jump.

“Well, well,” someone says, and I whip around to see Max leaning in the doorway, one shoulder against the frame, arms crossed, a mischievous grin on his face. “If it isn’t the innocent dancer snooping around in a dark library. Pretty suspicious.”

I put a hand to my chest, trying to calm my racing heart. “God, Max, you scared the hell out of me.”

He steps inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. “Or maybe I just caught you in the act. Maybe you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be.”

I scoff, straightening up and crossing my arms. “I’m just looking for clues. What are you doing up here?”

He grins, leaning in closer, his eyes sparkling with fake suspicion. “Maybe I’m following you. Maybe I know you have something to hide.”

I smirk, leaning back against the desk. “Or maybe you’re just projecting your own guilt onto me. What’s the matter, Max? Got a little crush on the murder victim's ex girlfriend? Hiding a secret vendetta?”

His grin widens, and he steps even closer, until there’s barely a foot of space between us. “Maybe I’m the one who killed him.”

We hold each other’s gaze for a long, breathless moment, and I can’t help the little shiver that runs down my spine. It’s just a game. Just a silly, stupid, alcohol-fueled game.

But for some reason, the way his eyes darken, the way his breath brushes my cheek, feels a little too real.

“Gosh, Max,” I say, leaning in just a fraction further. “You might find yourself in a real murder mystery if you keep acting this well.”

He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he steps back. “Alright, alright, you win this round. Sorry if I scared you.”

I smirk, watching as he backs toward the door. “Yeah, you got me.”

He winks at me, then slips out into the hallway, the door creaking shut behind him.

I let out a long, shaky breath, pressing a hand to my racing heart.

Okay. That was... interesting.

I shake my head, turning back to the shelves, my fingers trailing over the dusty spines again as I try to calm my pulse. This game is turning out to be way more intense than I expected.