Page 11 of Playing Dirty
“Didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I nodded and waved off her wallet when she reached for it. “Already got the tab.”
She hesitated for half a second, then gave me a short nod and disappeared down the hallway toward the restroom.
I watched as the bar emptied fast after that—boots scuffing, jackets zipping, folks muttering about tire chains and salting the roads.
I wandered toward the window, arms crossed. Outside, the parking lot was turning slick, and snow was beginning to accumulate on hoods and wipers.
And I couldn’t stop picturing Matt in his business-casual getup, tucked away somewhere warm and safe, probably sipping hotel coffee and thinking about payroll numbers while Callie geared up to drive thirty minutes through this crap in a rental car with bald tires and no heated seats.
My jaw ticked.
Typical.
Real stand-up kind of guy, leaving her alone to fend for herself with the snow season creeping up on Montana.
I turned when I heard the restroom door creak open.
Time to see if she'd let me do what he wouldn’t—get her home safe.
Chapter Four
Little White Lies
Callie
The mirror in Rusty Nail’s restroom was set in a vintage tin frame, worn smooth at the edges from decades of use. A single overhead bulb cast a warm glow, flickering not from neglect but from age—the kind that gave the place charm. I leaned in, bracing my hands on the cool porcelain sink, its surface polished by time, and studied the face looking back at me.
Tired. That’s what I saw. Not just the kind of tired makeup could fix, either. This was the kind that settled behind your eyes and made your jaw stay clenched even when you told yourself to breathe.
I blotted my lipstick, dabbed under my eyes with a paper towel, and smoothed the front of my blouse like it might magically erase the tension from my shoulders. If I tilted my chin just right and ignored the shadows under my eyes, I could almost pass for composed.
Almost, but I knew better.
Even though it had been a year since Tessa and I came home, I never expected I would be living in a remote cabin during a storm that had every weatherman in the state worked up. And definitely not without Tessa. She’d always been the one with the map, the backup charger, and the Plan B through Z. Me? I was just stubborn enough to act like my situation was the same thing.
Now it was just me. No map. No backup. No warm voice on the other side of the trailer telling me everything would be okay.
The thought of spending the night alone in Matt’s cabin with snow piling up around me made my stomach twist. Sure, Tessa and I had been through worse. Yet back then, I wasn’t pretending someone was coming back for me.
“He’ll be home soon,” I whispered to my reflection. “Everything’s fine. I’ve got this.”
But I didn’t believe a word of it.
And that was the part that scared me the most.
The cold hit me like a slap the second I pushed open the door and walked outside the Rusty Nail. Snow was falling thicker now—big, heavy flakes that stuck to everything, softening the parking lot into a quiet, white blur.
And there he was.
Rhett stood under the awning, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, head tipped back like he was watching the sky think. His breath curled into the cold, and for a second, he didn’t move. Just stood there in that stillness that always seemed to follow him, like he belonged more to open fields and back roads than anywhere people gathered.
When he spotted me, his mouth tipped into a smile that wasn’t smug or teasing. Just quiet.
Familiar.
