Page 14 of Playing Dirty
“I’ll be fine.” The words came too fast, too fake. My voice didn’t even sound like mine.
He didn’t answer, just glanced toward the fireplace. “You know how to light one of these?”
“Matt showed me.” I hesitated. “Didn’t really think I’d need to remember.”
He gave a slow nod but didn’t move. And neither did I.
For a beat, we just stood there, the quiet stretching out like a held breath.
I walked him to the door, mostly because I didn’t trust myself to keep the space between us otherwise. When I opened it, the wind rushed in—cold and sharp, and suddenly it felt like we were standing in some kind of invisible tug-of-war.
He paused. His eyes swept my face with quiet intensity. Then, slowly, he reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of my eyes, letting his fingers linger just a second too long against my cheek.
My breath caught.
He pulled me into a hug—steady, warm, and too good. I pressed my hands to his chest, not pushing him away, just… holding on.
When he pulled back, we were still too close. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath against my temple. His lips hovered there, like he might kiss me, or sweep me off my feet and carry me away.
“You’re tempting me, Callie.”
The words hit harder than I expected, and the worst part? I wanted to tempt him, just for a second or—two.
I swallowed. “Matt’ll be home soon.”
He stepped back, slow and careful. “Call me if you need anything.”
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
I stood there for a long time after the door closed, watching his taillights disappear into the blizzard. The silence felt heaviernow. Heavier than the logs by the hearth. Heavier than the ache behind my ribs.
A soft meow broke the quiet. Pixie padded out from under the coffee table, stretching like she’d just decided the storm didn’t concern her one bit.
She weaved between my ankles, tail flicking against my calf like a question. I reached down and scratched behind her ears, grateful for the excuse to do something—anything.
“You hungry too?” I whispered.
Pixie just blinked at me, unimpressed, then hopped up onto the couch like she owned the place.
I envied that kind of certainty, which prompted me to wonder—Should I have asked Rhett to stay?
No. He wouldn’t have. Not here. Not in Matt’s cabin, where the walls still smelled like cedar and expensive aftershave. Rhett had too much respect for boundaries and for me. Maybe for Matt, too, which felt more complicated than I wanted to think about.
I turned the lock and pressed my back to the door, closing my eyes and willing the heat to kick on like it was supposed to. I even whispered, “Please,” like maybe the universe was listening.
A click. Then… nothing.
I spun around and tried the thermostat. Still set on HIGH. Still useless.
My breath fogged as I shoved my feet into boots and yanked on my jacket. Outside, the snow bit through the thin denim of my jeans as I stumbled around the side of the cabin to check the propane tanks.
Empty.
The kind of empty that made your stomach drop.
Inside again, I slammed the door behind me and tried Rhett’s number. It rang once, then failed. I held the phone up to thewindow. Moved around the room like the signal might be hiding in the air somewhere.
No bars.
