Page 19 of Playing Dirty (Millionaire Cowboys of Lucky Ranch #2)

Chapter Nineteen

Trust Me

Callie

M ornings with Rhett had a way of sneaking under my skin—warm steam curling in the bathroom, his hands mapping every curve like he already knew the landscape by heart.

By the time we finally made it to the kitchen, I felt loose-limbed and smugly content, the kind of mood that could almost trick me into believing life was simple.

Almost.

“C’mon,” he said after breakfast, leaning in the doorway with that glint in his eyes that meant he’d been sitting on something. “Got somethin’ to show you.”

I followed him out to the garage, still barefoot, coffee in hand.

Rhett’s garage wasn’t just a place to park cars—it was a shrine.

Chrome gleamed under the overhead lights.

Oil and leather scented the air. Every vehicle lined up like soldiers, polished within an inch of its life.

And right in the middle sat his pride and joy—a ’49 Ford pickup that looked like it had rolled straight out of a magazine spread for “They Don’t Make ’Em Like They Used To. ”

He circled the truck, dragging a fingertip along the curve of the fender like it was a woman he was trying to sweet-talk. “Thinking it’s time she got a new dress for the show,” he said. “Color’s just off—close, but not the exact shade that it was in ’49. There’s only one shop that can nail it.”

I arched a brow. “And where’s that?”

“Vegas.” He said it like he was already picturing the neon glow. “Place called Sin City Body Shop. Best in the business. And,” he added casually, “figured you might want the job. Make sure they don’t take any shortcuts. Use that eye you’ve got from all those years in the pits.”

There was a way he said it—like he was offering me a trip and a job all wrapped into one—that made it sound perfectly reasonable. And yet… something in my chest tightened.

“Vegas, huh?” I tried to keep my tone light. “Sending me away just when we’re getting good at this?”

He smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m sending you somewhere you can have a little fun. And we both know you’d spot a problem if they tried to cut corners before they even picked up a wrench.”

I studied him over my coffee. It was a good opportunity—hell, it was exactly the kind of thing I’d jump at under normal circumstances. But my gut whispered that this wasn’t just about paint colors and car shows.

“Uh-huh,” I said finally, letting my lips twitch like I might buy it. “Alright, sexy. I’ll go. But if this truck wins because of my ‘eye,’ I’m taking all the credit.”

His grin came easier this time. “Deal.”

But as I turned back toward the house, I couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere behind all that charm, Rhett was playing a longer game.

I was halfway through my second cup of coffee when I heard a truck pulling up out front. Through the window, Sawyer’s truck eased in beside Rhett’s, dust curling around it in the morning sun.

Rhett glanced over his shoulder at me. “That’ll be Sawyer.”

Before I could ask why that warranted the look he gave me—somewhere between warning and don’t-ask—he was already heading for the porch. I lingered at the table a minute, listening as the front door swung shut behind him.

Voices carried in the quiet. Not loud, but the kind of low, tight tones men use when they don’t want to be overheard.

“…time to make a move…” That was Sawyer, his voice clipped.

“…too much risk if she’s here…” Rhett, lower, but I caught it anyway.

My pulse tripped.

I stood, drifting toward the doorway like I wasn’t trying to listen—but I was.

“…Colt’s in. Said Tessa can help, and Dalia can watch the twins…” Sawyer again.

The words hung there, heavy and unfinished. My mind scrambled to fit them into something harmless. Maybe they were talking about a surprise, or some project that needed doing without me underfoot. But my gut—the same gut that had kept me alive in Matt’s mess—told me it was more.

I grabbed two mugs from the counter and poured fresh coffee, the clink of ceramic loud enough to warn them I was coming. When I stepped out, both men looked up like I’d just interrupted a classified meeting.

“Coffee?” I offered, setting a mug in Rhett’s hand.

“Thanks, darlin’.” He took a sip like it was the most natural thing in the world. Sawyer gave me a nod and a quick smile.

The conversation shifted in a snap—something about the weather, the ranch fence on the north side needing repairs. I nodded like I was buying it, but every nerve in me hummed with the certainty that whatever they’d been talking about before wasn’t for my ears.

Soon, the driveway looked like a family reunion. Tessa’s SUV rolled in with the twins chattering in the backseat, their little faces pressed to the windows. Dalia was in the passenger seat, waving before they’d even come to a stop.

I met them on the porch steps, bracing for the whirlwind once they were released from their car seats.

“Auntieee Callwee!” Charlie hollered before tumbling out of the car and wrapping herself around my legs. Wyatt was right behind, both of them smelling like Tessa’s perfume and juice boxes.

Tessa grinned as she came around the hood. “Hope you’re ready for company, because we’ve decided—Vegas is happening. And we’re coming with you.”

I blinked. “Wait… what?”

“Not to crash your trip,” she said, laughing, “but the timing’s perfect. Dalia’s been dying to see the Bellagio gardens again, and the twins will love it. Plus, Colt says your hotel has free babysitting. We can sneak off for a spa day or two.”

Dalia reached up to squeeze my hand. “It’ll be like old times, honey. Only better.” Her voice went soft at that, the way it always did when she brushed against memories of my mom, who passed years ago.

Sawyer appeared from around the side of the house, his hat tipped back and that sly half-smile in place. “Since Colt is all in, I guess that makes us the three amigos.”

Rhett joined him, leaning on the porch post. They traded a quick look—barely there, but I caught it. The kind of look that says good, this works .

I didn’t pay much attention to it. I was too caught up in the talk about Vegas buffets and shows, while the twins tugged at my hands, as if they were worried I might leave without them. Still, beneath the laughter, that earlier porch conversation was a splinter I couldn’t forget.

That night, the bed was a minefield of half-folded clothes, heels I wasn’t sure I’d actually wear, and the suitcase Rhett kept rearranging like I was packing for a covert mission.

“You don’t need six pairs of shoes,” he said, holding up a strappy black sandal like it had personally offended him.

I plucked it out of his hand. “You don’t know what I’ll be wearing.”

He smirked. “I always know exactly what you’re wearing—about ten seconds before I take it off.”

I tossed a rolled-up tank top at his chest, but my laugh came out thinner than I meant. Every time I looked at him, I saw it—that weight in his eyes, the kind you can’t disguise no matter how much you joke around it.

He slid the suitcase onto the floor and sat beside me, resting his arm along my shoulders. “Vegas is gonna be good for you,” he said quietly. “Fun. And… I need you to trust me on this.”

I turned toward him, my hand coming to rest over his heart. “I do trust you, Rhett. I always have.”

“Then keep doing it.” His thumb brushed my jaw, his gaze steady and warm, even if something unspoken lingered between us.

I searched his face for answers, but he wasn’t giving them. So I gave him the only thing I could. “I love you, Rhett. And you can trust me to take good care of your baby while I’m gone.”

He grinned at that, a spark of the man I knew breaking through. “My truck’s in good hands. The courier is picking it up in an hour to haul it to the big city. But if she comes back with one scratch?—”

“—you’ll what? Send me to Vegas again?” I teased, leaning in until our foreheads touched.

His voice dropped, low and certain. “Just… come back to me, Callie.”

I didn’t say it out loud, but I was certain of one thing—whatever Rhett, Sawyer, and Colt were lining up while I was gone had Matt’s name written all over it.

Maybe that was on me.

I’d ignored Rhett’s warnings months ago, too wrapped up in proving I could handle Matt on my own. Now here we were, playing this half-secret game that had me flying out of town while they stayed behind to deal with him.

By the time we slid under the covers, the suitcase was zipped and sitting by the door like it couldn’t wait to hustle me out of here. Rhett curled in behind me, his arm draped heavy and warm over my waist, his breath steady against my neck.

I wanted to ask him again what was going down while I was gone and wanted to demand answers instead of piecing together the scraps I’d overheard. But I didn’t—because if I pushed, he’d either shut down or give me just enough to keep me in the dark.

So instead, I slid my hand over his and whispered, “I love you. And I’ll make sure the paint job is done right before they ship it back here.”

His laugh was quiet, a low rumble against my back. “You better. That truck’s got history.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, knowing we weren’t talking about the truck anymore.

In the morning, I’d be in Vegas, surrounded by neon and strangers. But tonight, I was here, with Rhett, and the ghost of a man who’d wrecked too many lives already lingering at the edges of our bed.

And I promised myself—when I came back, I would never mention Matt’s name again.