Page 22 of Playing Dirty

Suspicions Confirmed

Rhett

The first thing I saw when I pulled into the drive was a box propped neatly against my front door, half-dusted in fresh snow. A scrap of duct tape flapped loose on the side like a makeshift flag of surrender.

Taped to the top was a wrinkled index card.

"Neither snow nor sleet nor Montana nonsense. You owe me coffee. —Joe"

I huffed a quiet laugh and shook my head.

Joe had dropped off the trail cams like we’d planned—storm or no storm. The guy ran his business like a general store from the Old West—juicy gossip, fully stocked, and deliveries were always on time.

I grabbed the box and stepped inside, the house swallowing me whole with its usual silence. I set the package on the counter, brushed melting snow off my jacket, and stood staring at it like it might blink first.

Inside that box sat our trail cams, but hunting elk was the furthest thing from my mind.

I didn’t open it.

Not yet.

I pulled off my coat, draped it over a chair, and poured myself a drink. No ice. No pretense.

Just burn.

Then the buzz of my phone on the counter stopped me mid-sip.

Callie:Thanks again. For everything. Pretty sure I’d be a popsicle by now without you. Turns out my winter survival skills are trash.

I stared at the screen, thumb hovering. That damn smile of hers flashed behind my eyes—mischief and softness, all wrapped into one.

She was joking. Light. Grateful.

But I wasn’t laughing.

She didn’t know how close I came to crossing a line in that cabin. How easy it would’ve been. One more minute by the fire. One more flicker of hesitation.

Hell, she would’ve let me.

I saw it in the way she leaned in, the way her voice caught when our hands brushed. The way she looked at me was like I was solid ground after too long drifting.

She was right there.

But I didn’t move.

Because no matter how bad I wanted her—how much Istillwanted her—I wasn’t the guy who took advantage just because the lights were out and she was scared.

Callie needed safety. Not seduction.

She needed someone to show up andnotask for anything in return.

So, I didn’t touch her. Didn’t kiss her. Didn’t let a single part of me give in to what I knew we both felt.

And that decision? It has scraped at my ribs ever since.

I locked the screen and set the phone face down beside the box.

The house was quiet again. Too quiet.