Page 77 of Playing Dirty
“Let’s get the ball rolling,” I teased, carefully keeping my veil in place.
The chapel was quaint. Real roses framed the door, their petals a deep crimson that contrasted beautifully with the whitewashed walls. Inside, the air was fragrant with the scent of fresh blooms, and my gaze was immediately drawn to thestained glass windows. Each pane told a story of love in vibrant hues that took my breath away.
I hadn’t expected such amazing craftsmanship in this bustling city; it felt like stepping into a hidden sanctuary. As I crossed the threshold, the noise of the Strip faded, and the world outside shrank away, leaving only this serene space enveloping me in warmth and promise.
My dress wasn’t some rhinestone-covered Vegas costume. I chose a simple, elegant gown—ivory satin with a clean neckline and just enough shimmer to make me feel like a bride. When Rhett’s eyes landed on me, all the noise outside faded away.
He looked steady, sure. But when I came up beside him, I caught the twitch of his jaw, the telltale flex of nerves he’d never admit out loud. And then Easton shifted behind him, resting a hand against his shoulder. A quiet gesture, but it steadied him like an anchor thrown deep. Rhett’s shoulders relaxed, and he looked at me again.
The officiant spoke words I barely heard. My heartbeat drowned them out, each one echoing:You’re here. This is real. He’s yours.
Rhett went first with his vows. No jokes, no swagger. Just his voice, low and rough, cracking once when he said my name. “Callie, I can’t promise I’ll always have the right words. But I can promise I’ll stand with you, fight for you, and hold on—no matter what comes.”
The sound of his voice breaking made me blink back tears. My steady cowboy, who never flinched or bent—he was shaking now, for me.
When it was my turn, my throat wobbled, but I managed to speak. “Rhett, I’ve run from a lot of things in my life, but never again. Not from you. You’re my home, my heart, and the reason I’m brave enough to stand here today.”
Tessa sniffled loudly beside me, already dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Colt stood straighter next to her, proud and quiet, as if he had known this was how it would always turn out. Sawyer looked straight ahead with his arms crossed, pretending to be bored, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a slight grin. And Easton—steady as ever—gave Rhett a single nod, the kind that spoke volumes without a word, like he was silently saying,about damn time.
When the officiant declared us husband and wife, Rhett didn’t wait for the applause. He pulled me close and kissed me so fiercely that the lights above the altar might have shorted out. The world swayed then stabilized all at once, his hands clutching my waist, my gown brushing against his boots.
For all the chaos outside, this moment was ours—and it was perfect.
The hotel lounge smelled like leather and citrus polish, low light bouncing off rows of bottles stacked behind the bar. It wasn’t fancy, not compared to the glitter just outside the doors, but it was exactly what I needed after our whirlwind of vows. A quiet bubble where we could catch our breath.
Tessa clinked her glass against mine before I’d even sat down. “To the newlyweds!” she declared, voice ringing like a bell. Colt shook his head, smiling anyway as he lifted his beer.
Sawyer leaned back in his chair, whiskey glass in hand. “Here’s hoping Elvis doesn’t come knocking, asking for an annulment.”
“Ha, ha,” I muttered, though I couldn’t stop grinning.
Rhett’s arm slipped around my shoulders, his glass raised steady. “To my wife,” he said, and the word hit me square in the chest—my wife. I couldn’t even breathe for a second.
Tessa was already buzzing again. “So, where’s the honeymoon? Hawaii? Paris? Oh my gosh, Paris would be so romantic.”
Rhett chuckled, but his gaze slid toward me. “Honeymoon’s gonna have to wait a bit. First, I’ve got a truck to show tomorrow.”
I groaned, nudging him with my shoulder. “You’re really thinking about chrome and polish less than two hours after saying ‘I do’?”
His grin was unapologetic. “Truck’s earned its moment.”
Before I could fire back, Sawyer spoke up, his tone quiet but sure. “He’s right. The man put his whole heart into that Ford. Wouldn’t be him if he didn’t want to see it shine.”
I glanced between them—my brand-new husband, stubborn as ever, and his friend, backing him up like always. I sighed, but I couldn’t help smiling. Maybe I’d married Rhett, but I’d inherited this whole wild family, too.
The convention center buzzed like a hive, and the air was heavy with car wax and gasoline fumes. Chrome shone under spotlights, and rows of trucks stood like soldiers on parade. I’d never seen Rhett so alert, his shoulders squared as if he was personally protecting our Ford from the thousands of hands and eyes scouting the place.
“Stay close,” he murmured, slipping his hand into mine as a crowd drifted past. His tone was protective, but it was more than that—this was his world, and he wanted me right there in the middle of it.
I tried to match his calm, but nerves fluttered through me. That ’49 Ford wasn’t just his project anymore. Rhett had asked me to oversee the paint work, and I’d hovered over every step—checking samples, making sure the finish caught the light just right, fussing until even the pros at Sin City Body Shop wererolling their eyes at me. Standing here, hearing the judges talk about “craftsmanship” and “attention to detail,” I felt exposed too, like every decision I’d signed off on was under the spotlight.
A pair of enthusiasts stopped in front of the hood, eyes wide. “How long did it take you guys to finish the paint project?” one asked.
“It took us several weeks, start to finish,” I said before I could stop myself. The wordusslipped out naturally, unthinking. Rhett glanced at me, the faintest grin dawning over his features, and my cheeks warmed.
Easton leaned against a merchandise table a few rows over, holding up a shirt as if it might bite him in front of Sawyer and Colt. “You really see me wearing sequins?” he asked dryly.
Sawyer snorted. “Better than the one with flames. You’d look like a midlife crisis waiting to happen.”
