Page 61 of Playing Dirty
Outside, a gust of wind rattled the café’s front door. I glanced toward it, half-hoping to see Rhett walk through, hat tipped low, eyes steady on me. But it stayed shut. This was my mess to sit in for now.
Lilly’s voice softened. “Let them talk. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”
Maybe not. But humiliation was already simmering just under my skin, that slow burn you couldn’t quite shake. I’d lived enough months with Matt to know he wouldn’t quit until he’d wrung every ounce of control out of a situation.
The problem was that I didn’t yet know what he planned to do with it.
By the time I turned into Rhett’s drive, the weight in my chest felt anchored there, like it had no intention of moving on. I told myself I’d shake it off before I walked inside—no point hauling the whole lunch with me into his kitchen—but the second I stepped through the door, he glanced up from the auto paint samples spread across the counter and knew.
“Hey.” His voice was easy, but his eyes sharpened in that way they did when he was already taking inventory.
“Hey.” I dropped my bag on the counter, leaning a hip against it. The smell of garlic and onions hit me, rich and warm, like he’d decided dinner should wrap around us before we even sat down.
“How was lunch?”
I hesitated, running my tongue along the back of my teeth. “Interesting. Apparently, Matt’s telling people he fired me.”
A sample was still in his hand. “He what?”
I shrugged, trying for casual and missing by a mile. “Lilly ran into him when she was dropping off flowers. He made sure to get that little detail in. And I saw him driving around town like he owned the place.”
Rhett set the sample down, slow and deliberate. “You embarrassed?”
“Wouldn’t you be?” I slid onto one of the stools, resting my elbows on the counter. “This is Lovelace. You know how fast that’ll travel.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Yeah, I know. And I also know he’s not doing it just to piss you off. He’s working out a plan.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer right away. Just reached for his phone and dialed. “Sawyer? Bring your laptop. Now.” He hung up before there was time for anything more than a muffled reply.
I blinked at him. “What?—”
“We’re done letting him control the story,” Rhett said, already moving toward the fridge like this was just another part of prepping dinner. But there was a sharp edge in his voice that told me this was about to get serious.
I folded my arms, part of me uneasy, part of me… relieved. Because if Matt thought he could keep rewriting my life to suit him, he was about to find out he’d picked the wrong audience.
Sawyer didn’t bother knocking. One second Rhett was pacing the kitchen, jaw tight, and the next, the front door creaked open and Sawyer stepped inside, a laptop tucked under one arm like it was a weapon.
“Got your message,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “Figured you wouldn’t call unless this was serious.”
“It’s serious,” Rhett answered, his tone low enough to vibrate in my bones. He shot me a glance that was part reassurance, part warning. “Tell him what you told me.”
I swallowed, feeling like the center of some invisible crossfire. “Matt’s telling people he fired me. Lilly said he made it sound like I should be grateful he kept me around as long as he did.”
Sawyer’s eyes narrowed, the calculating kind of look that said he was already ten steps ahead. “And the flowers Lilly mentioned?”
“Same daisies. Same address in Casper.”
That earned a quiet curse under his breath. He set the laptop on the counter, flipping it open with quick, practiced movements. “That’s not just spite. That’s cover.”
Rhett leaned in. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
I blinked between them. “Cover for what?”
Neither of them answered right away. Instead, Sawyer clicked through a few screens, his fingers moving with military precision. “A guy like Matt? He’s stalling. Keeping his story clean until he figures out how to deal with whatever’s about to hit him.” He glanced at Rhett, his voice hardening. “And it will hit him. You don’t live a double life forever without it catching up.”
The knot in my chest tightened. “So… what does that mean for me?”
