Page 76 of Playing Dirty
When we finally broke apart, she whispered, “I don’t feel alone anymore. I feel like I have a family… our family.” Her voice trembled when she continued, “Sometimes I think about what comes next… maybe kids one day.”
The air shifted between us, heavy with the weight of that thought. I cupped her face, my thumb stroking along her jaw. “You’d be an incredible mom. No question. But if I’m being honest, sweetheart—I’m not ready. Not yet. I want more time with you. Just us.”
Relief flickered in her gaze, mixing with something tender.
“Good. Because neither am I. I don’t want to rush us into that. I want late nights that turn into mornings. I want car shows, poker tables, and dancing barefoot in the kitchen. I want to know every part of you before we add someone else to the mix.” She laughed, low and warm, threading her fingers through my hair. “For now, it’s you and me.”
I pulled her close. “Guess we’re both too selfish to share this yet,” I said, grinning against her temple.
She dragged a finger down my jaw, teasing, though her voice had a weight to it. “Not even when there are a couple of little ones tearing through the house?”
The thought knocked the wind out of me. Kids—ours. I’d never let myself picture it before. Not seriously.
“Hell no,” I said, grinning. “That’s when I’ll need you most. Somebody’s got to stop me from teaching ’em poker before they can spell their names.”
She snorted and nudged me with her knee. “And someone’s got to stop me from feeding them ice cream for breakfast.”
I kissed her slowly, lingering, tasting the future on her lips. When I pulled back, I let the gamble I’d been rolling around in my head slip free. “The Silver State Classic is coming up soon. We will be back in Vegas. We need to make sure everything is set up perfectly. What if we made it more than just about the truck?”
Her brows lifted, a spark catching in her eyes.
“What if,” I said, heart pounding hard, “we came back from Vegas not just with a trophy… but married?”
For a beat, she just stared, and I braced myself for her to laugh me off. But then her smile spread slowly, brighter than the neon strip itself.
“That would be perfect,” she whispered.
We melted back into the couch cushions, her head tucked into my chest, my arm heavy around her shoulders. The silence between us was full of what we’d said, what we hadn’t, and what we’d just promised without even meaning to.
I laced my fingers through hers, holding on like I’d never let go. I’d found where I belonged—right here, with her in my arms.
Her. Us. The whole damn future. And I’d guard it with everything I had.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Final Jackpot
Callie
The cab door swung open, and Vegas lunged at me in a rush of neon and noise—horns blaring, bass pounding, lights sparkling like the city had draped itself in every sequin it possessed. Two weeks ago, Rhett had slid that diamond the size of Montana onto my finger, and now here I was again, stepping into the same chaos. Only this time, I wasn’t second-guessing every choice I’d ever made. I was here to say yes all over again.
Rhett hadn't let go of my hand since we'd left the private jet—his fingers tangled with mine as if he was afraid I might drift away in all this neon chaos. Even with the Strip spinning around us like some glittering tornado, I felt the ground solid beneath my feet. When I looked up and saw that half-smile, the flutter in my chest turned to a warm glow.
Just like that. Just like always.
Behind us, Tessa hopped out of the cab with enough energy to power the Strip. “Oh my gosh, Callie, can you believe this? A Vegas wedding! I swear I’m more excited than you are.”
Colt climbed out after her, slow as ever, dragging his boots across the curb. “Don’t go stealing the bride’s thunder, Tes’,” he muttered, though the way he slid his arm around her shoulders said he’d follow her anywhere, stolen thunder or not.
Sawyer slammed the cab door shut and stretched, his voice dry as the desert. “I give it ten minutes before one of y’all drags me into a slot machine marathon. To clarify, I’m not babysitting anyone’s ego when things go south.”
Those words earned him a snort from Tessa and a sideways smile from me. It was precisely the kind of jab I’d expected, sharp enough to sting but not deep enough to wound.
And then there was Easton, quiet at the back of the group, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. He gave me a single nod that said more than words. He wasn’t the type to gush or joke, but he was here—one of Rhett’s oldest friends, mine by extension—and that meant everything.
We navigated through the hotel’s glittering lobby, mirrors and marble reflecting all the sparkle, until we stood at the chapel entrance. My pulse thumped faster. This was really happening. Not a fantasy, not a gamble, not another “maybe” that could fall apart.
I looked up at Rhett. His thumb traced circles on my wrist, his eyes locked on mine. “You ready, darlin’?” he asked.
