Page 52 of Playing Dirty
“I’ll be here,” I replied, leaning a hip against the counter.
The sound of the shower came on a moment later. I let my eyes roam the room—not snooping, just… taking it in. Her jacket draped over the chair, boots kicked off by the door, a coffee mug in the sink with lipstick smudged on the rim.
Little pieces of her.
It hit me then—how easily I could picture those same things scattered through my own house.
Her phone buzzed on the table, screen lighting up. I glanced over without thinking.
Matt.
Just seeing his name there made my jaw tighten.
I looked away, trying to ignore it, but the phone buzzed again, the notification preview lighting up clear as day. One line was all it took for my stomach to go cold.
Then, one swipe, and the message stared back at me.
Matt:I'm on my way home. I can’t wait to see you. I took a peek at the schedule and noticed you gave yourself the weekend off. :-) We’ll spend the day in bed making up for lost time.
My grip tightened until the edges of the phone dug into my palm. I could practically see him, grinning like he had a right to her, thinking he could just stroll back into her life after everything.
The first instinct was ugly—hurl the phone against the wall, get in my truck, and meet him halfway down the road with my fists. But the smarter part of me knew this wasn’t the moment to lose it.
Not yet.
I set the phone back on the table, screen down, and took a slow breath. Every muscle in me was coiled tight, heat crawling up my spine, but I forced my hands to relax.
The shower cut off.
A minute later, she stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her, hair piled on top of her head. She was smiling faintly, probably thinking about coffee and breakfast.
“Hey—”
I handed her the phone. “You’ve got a text.”
She took it, glancing down, and the color drained from her face as she read.
Her eyes darted up to mine. “I thought… I thought we’d have time to figure out what to do if he came back. I didn’t think it’d be today.”
“Guess he had other plans,” I said, my voice flat to keep from showing what I was really feeling.
She set the phone down like it might bite her, then started pacing the narrow strip of floor between the table and the counter.
“I can’t just—what am I supposed to do? Disappear until he leaves again? Pretend none of this happened?”
I crossed my arms, leaning against the counter. “You could let me handle it.”
Her head snapped up. “No. This is between Matt and me first. I want him to see my face when I tell him I know.”
I didn’t like it. Not one damn bit. “And if he decides talking isn’t enough? If he tries something?”
Her mouth pressed into a stubborn line. “Then you step in. But I need him to think I’m alone, Rhett. If you’re there from the start, he’ll clam up, spin some story, and I’ll never get the truth out of him.”
I studied her for a long moment, weighing the risk against that look in her eyes. She wasn’t asking for permission—she was telling me how it was going to be. And hell, I respected the grit even if it made my teeth grind.
“All right,” I said finally. “But you don’t get to argue about the rest of it. I’m staying close. I’ll park the truck down the logging road, walk back, and hide on the back porch where he can’t see me. The second I hear his voice raise or see him lay a hand on you, I’m in.”
She exhaled slowly, some of the tension in her shoulders easing. “Deal.”
