Page 4 of Playing Dirty
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.
Just slid one last chip into the center and gave him a dry smile. “Not since your shindig.”
He nodded like that was all he needed, and the conversation rolled on. But for me, it stopped right there.
Because that night?
It hadn’t gone the way I wanted it to.
I could still see her—backlit by the porch lights, arms crossed, hair twisted up in that messy kind of way that always made my chest feel too tight. She’d laughed with everyone else, but when her eyes found mine, they didn’t hold much humor.
Disappointed. Maybe hurt.
And yeah, I’d earned it. I opened my mouth and let something stupid fall out. A throwaway line meant to sting—living with a winner now, huh?
It was meant to be clever. Light. A jab like we used to toss back and forth when we were friends.
But it landed wrong. Hit deeper than it should’ve. Or maybe she was already bruised, and I just pressed the sore spot.
Now she was shacked up with Matt Downing, and I had to sit here pretending I didn’t give a damn.
But I did.
And not just because I’d wanted her since before she knew how to shoot whiskey. Not even because she looked better mad than most women when dressed to the nines.
It was the way she smiled lately—like she was working at it. Like she was building a life she wasn’t quite sure she wanted but had committed to anyway.
The others were packing up, shrugging on jackets, and cracking more jokes, but I just stared into the fire. Watched the last flicker curl up and vanish.
If Downing was everything he claimed to be, fine.
But if he wasn’t?
Well.
I’ve played dirty before.
And I damn sure know how to deal with someone who’s cheating on a friend.
Chapter Two
Something Off
Callie
The coffee maker gurgled like it was trying to clear its throat, and the smell of dark roast drifted through the rustic cabin, warm and familiar. I padded across the kitchen floor in my old flannel robe—the one with a tear near the pocket and a coffee stain that never quite washed out. After six months, Pixie, Matt’s cat, had slowly decided I was acceptable. She wound herself around my ankles with a throaty purr, brushing her tail like a paintbrush against my calf.
The heater had kicked on, but it hadn’t quite caught up with the chill seeping in through the windows. It was the kind of morning that begged for fuzzy socks and a second slice of toast.
Matt was already at the kitchen table—dressed like he was heading to a boardroom, not the back office of Frontier Market. Gray suit, tie perfectly knotted, scrolling through something on his phone with his brows drawn tight.
I stopped in the doorway. “Since when do you wear that to restock canned green beans?”
He glanced up like I’d startled him. “Didn’t I tell you? I’ve got to head to Tucson this morning. Store manager training. Just came up last night.”
I blinked. “Tucson? Can’t they Zoom or something? This is the second time in two months.”
He shook his head. “It’s about new hiring policies—sensitive stuff. Frontier does these things in person.”
