Page 68 of Playing Dirty
The spa steam was still clinging to my skin as Tessa and I slid into our seats at the blackjack table, fresh from facials, massages, and enough girl talk to fill a month’s worth of coffee dates. My muscles felt loose, my hair was shiny, and Rhett’s charge card… well, his card was about to take another beating.
“I’m telling you tonight’s the night I finally win a hand,” Tessa said, tossing her chips onto the felt like she was daring the dealer to argue.
I arched a brow, matching her bet. “You’ve been saying that all afternoon.”
“Yeah, but this time I mean it.” She winked at me.
The dealer slid us our cards, and we started our usual ritual of dramatic sighs and whispered curses when the odds didn’t look great. Still, it was fun — losing never stung quite as much when you were doing it together.
As I peeked at my next card, Tessa leaned closer. “So… heard from Rhett?”
A smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it. “A few times. He called while we were in the spa. Every time I tried to figure out what he was doing, he changed the subject. Kept talking about his prize truck and how he set up an appointment for me tomorrow at the Sin City Body Shop after the car arrives.” I shook my head. “Which, by the way, is the most suspiciously specific distraction I’ve ever heard.”
Her brows went up. “Colt’s the same way. I couldn’t get a straight answer out of him, either. But…” She lowered her voice, glancing at the dealer, “…I did hear somebody in the background talking to a police officer.”
My hand stilled over my chips. “An emergency?”
“No. Didn’t sound like that. More like… official business.” She shrugged. “Whatever they’re up to, they’re not telling us until they’re good and ready.”
I leaned back in my chair, trying to play it cool, but the curiosity burned. They were up to something — I could feel it. Still, for now, I had a hand to play and a table full of strangers who were probably just as bad at blackjack as I was.
The dealer flipped the next card, and I grimaced. Yep. Just as bad.
I was halfway through deciding whether to hit or stay when the air shifted behind me. That subtle, electric awareness crawled over my skin—the kind that only happened when someone I knew was watching me.
Then a low, familiar voice brushed my ear. “Play the king of spades.”
I froze for a heartbeat, then whipped around in my chair. Rhett was standing there, grinning like he’d just won the jackpot.
“Rhett!” I was on my feet in a second, throwing my arms around him. “How did you find us?”
“Dalia, up in the suite,” he said, still smiling. “Told me and Colt exactly where to look.”
Over his shoulder, I saw Colt already sweeping Tessa into a hug, her laugh carrying over the hum of the casino.
Rhett slid into the empty seat beside me like he’d been here all night, one arm draped casually across the back of my chair. “Now,” he said, glancing at my cards with a smirk, “let’s see what kind of trouble you’re getting yourself into.”
Rhett leaned back, one arm still hooked over the back of my chair, and eyed my cards like he was appraising a horse at auction.
“Split the eights,” he said.
I frowned. “Even when the dealer’s showing a ten?”
“Especially then.” His grin deepened when I hesitated. “Trust me, darlin’. Sometimes you’ve gotta double your trouble to double your win.”
I rolled my eyes but did it, mostly because his voice made it impossible to think straight. Two hits later, I actually won the hand. He gave me a slow, smug nod that saidtold you so.
He stayed beside me for a few more rounds, offering little murmured tips—when to hit, when to hold, when to ignore my gut and follow the math. And damn if it didn’t work; I was up more chips than I’d expected in under fifteen minutes.
Finally, he tapped the table. “Alright, champ. Let’s cash you out and get something to eat.”
I glanced over at Tessa, who was deep in a laughing conversation with Colt. She caught my look and gave me a little wave toward the elevators. “Go,” she mouthed, all too happy to head back to the suite with him.
The minute we sat down in the quiet corner of a steakhouse off the casino floor, Rhett’s playful edge softened. He didn’t drag it out—just laid it all out, calm and matter-of-fact.
Matt’s lies. The multiple driver’s licenses. The marriage in Utah. The confrontation at his cabin. How he resigned from Frontier Markets and was told to leave Lovelace for good.
I listened, hands wrapped around my water glass, letting the words sink in. The longer he talked, the more I felt something in my chest ease. That constant tightness I hadn’t even realized I was carrying… it was gone.
