Page 15 of Playing Dirty (Millionaire Cowboys of Lucky Ranch #2)

Chapter Fifteen

In His Sights

Rhett

T he light coming through the blinds was soft and gold, the kind that made everything feel slower. Saturday morning on Lucky Ranch had a way of moving at its own pace, and for once, I didn’t feel like I needed to rush it.

Callie was still asleep beside me, one arm curved over her head, her copper locks splayed in messy waves across the pillow.

She looked different this morning—lighter somehow, as if she’d finally put down something she’d been carrying for too long.

I couldn’t remember the last time I saw her face without that tightness around her eyes.

I let myself just watch her for a minute, taking in the even rise and fall of her breathing, the way the blanket had slipped to her waist. Lady Luck had been good to me last night. I’d be a fool not to appreciate it.

It crossed my mind that I could get used to this—her in my bed, in my mornings, part of my house like she’d always belonged here. But that was the kind of thinking that could spook her if I said it out loud, so I kept it to myself.

Not wanting to wake her, I slid out of bed, grabbed a towel from the dresser, and headed for the shower.

The hot water rolled over my shoulders, but it didn’t wash away the pull I felt toward her.

By the time I shut it off, I’d already made up my mind—I was going to find a way to keep her close.

Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.

When I stepped back into the bedroom, she was still curled in the sheets, blinking awake as the sunlight inched across her face.

“Morning,” I said, toweling off. “You hungry?”

She stretched under the covers, hair tumbling over her shoulder as she sat up. The sheet slipped, giving me a glimpse of smooth skin and the kind of smile that could derail a man’s morning plans.

“Morning,” she murmured.

“You want to shower and head into town? We could grab breakfast at Main Street Diner.”

She made a face, glancing at the crumpled pile of clothes she had moved to the chair last night. “I only have my work clothes from yesterday. They’re dirty, and I’m not walking into the diner like that.”

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “So, we swing by your cabin first. You can grab a few things and change. Easy fix.”

Her smile softened, but she shook her head slightly. “I don’t know, Rhett…”

That was my opening. I almost asked her right then if she wanted to just move in with me, but I caught myself. Too soon. Pushing her now would have her bolting faster than a green colt. I’d give it a few weeks—months if I had to—let her settle into the idea on her own.

Instead, I kept it casual. “How about you stay here for a few days? Just until you figure things out.”

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. “Okay. But it’s temporary. I need time, Rhett. Time to get my head on straight, to heal. I can’t go from the frying pan straight into fire.”

“I get it,” I said, though my grin told her I didn’t buy it for a second. “But if you think you’re gonna get away from me, you’re mistaken.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile in it. “We’ll see.”

The drive out to Matt’s cabin was quiet but easy, the kind where you didn’t have to fill every minute with words. The sky was clear, the kind of crisp Montana blue you only got this time of year, and the gravel driveway crunched under the tires as we pulled in.

She unlocked the door, stepping inside ahead of me, and dropped her bag and phone on the table without a second thought. The place was small, clean, and tidy—too tidy, like she hadn’t really been living here so much as passing through.

“I’ll be quick,” she said, already heading toward the bathroom.

“I’ll be here,” I replied, leaning a hip against the counter.

The sound of the shower came on a moment later. I let my eyes roam the room—not snooping, just… taking it in. Her jacket draped over the chair, boots kicked off by the door, a coffee mug in the sink with lipstick smudged on the rim.

Little pieces of her.

It hit me then—how easily I could picture those same things scattered through my own house.

Her phone buzzed on the table, screen lighting up. I glanced over without thinking.

Matt.

Just seeing his name there made my jaw tighten.

I looked away, trying to ignore it, but the phone buzzed again, the notification preview lighting up clear as day. One line was all it took for my stomach to go cold.

Then, one swipe, and the message stared back at me.

Matt: I'm on my way home. I can’t wait to see you. I took a peek at the schedule and noticed you gave yourself the weekend off. :-) We’ll spend the day in bed making up for lost time.

My grip tightened until the edges of the phone dug into my palm. I could practically see him, grinning like he had a right to her, thinking he could just stroll back into her life after everything.

The first instinct was ugly—hurl the phone against the wall, get in my truck, and meet him halfway down the road with my fists. But the smarter part of me knew this wasn’t the moment to lose it.

Not yet.

I set the phone back on the table, screen down, and took a slow breath. Every muscle in me was coiled tight, heat crawling up my spine, but I forced my hands to relax.

The shower cut off.

A minute later, she stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her, hair piled on top of her head. She was smiling faintly, probably thinking about coffee and breakfast.

“Hey—”

I handed her the phone. “You’ve got a text.”

She took it, glancing down, and the color drained from her face as she read.

Her eyes darted up to mine. “I thought… I thought we’d have time to figure out what to do if he came back. I didn’t think it’d be today.”

“Guess he had other plans,” I said, my voice flat to keep from showing what I was really feeling.

She set the phone down like it might bite her, then started pacing the narrow strip of floor between the table and the counter.

“I can’t just—what am I supposed to do? Disappear until he leaves again? Pretend none of this happened?”

I crossed my arms, leaning against the counter. “You could let me handle it.”

Her head snapped up. “No. This is between Matt and me first. I want him to see my face when I tell him I know.”

I didn’t like it. Not one damn bit. “And if he decides talking isn’t enough? If he tries something?”

Her mouth pressed into a stubborn line. “Then you step in. But I need him to think I’m alone, Rhett. If you’re there from the start, he’ll clam up, spin some story, and I’ll never get the truth out of him.”

I studied her for a long moment, weighing the risk against that look in her eyes. She wasn’t asking for permission—she was telling me how it was going to be. And hell, I respected the grit even if it made my teeth grind.

“All right,” I said finally. “But you don’t get to argue about the rest of it. I’m staying close. I’ll park the truck down the logging road, walk back, and hide on the back porch where he can’t see me. The second I hear his voice raise or see him lay a hand on you, I’m in.”

She exhaled slowly, some of the tension in her shoulders easing. “Deal.”

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “And Callie? He’s not taking you anywhere. Not today, not ever.”

For a second, the stubborn edge faded from her eyes. She nodded, and I caught the barest flicker of a smile.

“Better get moving then,” she said. “He’ll be here soon, but since my car isn’t here, he might take his time coming in or text me to see where I am.”

I took the truck down the narrow logging road just past the turnoff to her cabin. The dust curled up behind me before I eased to a stop in a clearing thick with pine. I killed the engine and sat there for a beat, letting the quiet settle in.

It wasn’t the kind of quiet that relaxed you—it was the kind that sharpened everything. Every sound stood out. The wind was combing through the trees. The faint creak of the truck cooling. Somewhere, a raven called low and distant.

I stepped out, shutting the door without a slam, and started back on foot. The air was cold enough to bite, but the walk kept my muscles warm. My boots barely whispered against the packed dirt as I cut through the edge of the trees toward the cabin.

When it came into view, I slowed, scanning the place like I was casing it. Curtains open just enough in the kitchen for light to spill out. The faint sound of movement inside—Callie getting ready, probably checking the clock every minute.

I circled wide to the back and climbed the porch steps.

From here, I could see through the gap where the screen door didn’t quite close all the way.

If I leaned just right, I’d have a clear line of sight into the living room without being spotted.

I knocked on the window to let Callie know I was here.

Every muscle was coiled and ready as I settled into a crouch with my back against the wall.

Now all I had to do was wait.

It didn’t take long.

The low growl of an engine carried up the drive, getting louder until it was in front of the cabin. My shoulders tightened. Through the gap between the porch rail and the wall, I caught the first flash of a dark pickup as it rounded the bend.

Dust kicked up behind him, curling in the cold air. He didn’t hurry—he had the easy roll of a man who thought he belonged here. That alone made my jaw clench.

The truck came to a stop in front of the cabin. Engine off. Silence for a beat, then the groan of the door.

Boots hit the ground.

Heavy steps on gravel.

I eased forward just enough to catch a glimpse—broad shoulders, ball cap pulled low, jacket hanging open like he was strolling up to greet a friend.

The boards under my feet felt like they might splinter as my weight shifted from my crouched position. My hands curled into fists, the wood under them rough enough to bite into my skin.

Matt’s shadow stretched across the porch as he reached the steps. He took them slowly, boots thudding in a rhythm that hit me in the chest.

Any second now, he’d unlock the door and go in.

And I’d be right here.