Page 26 of Playing Dirty (Millionaire Cowboys of Lucky Ranch #2)

Anchored Together

Sawyer

I t had been a month since Rhett and Callie’s wedding.

Thirty days that somehow flew by for everyone else but dragged for me.

They looked like newlyweds should—starry-eyed, radiant, floating on their own cloud.

Colt and Tessa were the same, inseparable.

Easton kept plenty busy back at the ranch.

As for me? I was counting fence posts and wondering how I’d let myself get roped into this crazy “honeymoon cruise,” wondering who in their right mind would invite friends along as guests on someone’s honeymoon.

I figured I’d spend the next week dodging umbrella drinks and watching Rhett polish his new ring like chrome. At least Easton was here, which meant I wasn’t going to be the lone third wheel in a sea of romance. The man had a way of blending in anywhere, calm as a pond at sunrise.

Then Lilly Mitchell stepped onto the gangway. Bag slung over her shoulder, sundress swaying, late as ever.

My stomach sank.

“I missed the flight everyone else was on,” she explained later, breezy as you please, when she finally caught up to us at the boarding line. “Had a funeral arrangement to finish for some friends. Couldn’t leave them hanging.”

I just stared at her. A funeral, right.

Callie’s smile from across the deck told me everything I needed to know—this wasn’t a coincidence.

This was Callie's sneaky matchmaking. And it irritated me how my chest tightened the second I saw Lilly walking toward us, all sunshine and excuses. I wanted to blame Callie for meddling. But the truth? Some part of me didn’t hate it half as much as I should have.

It turned out that sail-away parties were floating circuses with better wallpaper.

Steel drums thumped across the deck, bartenders shoved neon-colored drinks into hands, and half the passengers acted like they’d been set free from the mainland for good.

Paradise, they called it. To me, it looked like chaos with a side of sunburn.

Easton, of course, was already working the crowd.

It didn’t take him ten minutes to strike up a conversation with a girl from Brazil—long, dark hair, bright laugh, the kind of accent that made every word sound like music.

By the time the ship’s horn blasted, she was leaning into him like they’d known each other longer than the walk from the railing to the bar.

Meanwhile, I had Lilly.

She stood beside me, sipping something pink and frothy, eyes shining as if she belonged here.

Every time she leaned in closer to point out something—the horizon, the dolphins, the damn buffet—I felt my patience grow thinner.

She wasn’t doing anything wrong exactly.

But that was the problem. She was too close, too cheerful, too… Lilly .

I offered polite answers, a grunt here, a nod there, but I was already regretting how close our cabins were—only a thin wall between me and all that sunshine.

Back in Lovelace, I kept things simple. She needed firewood stacked, porch steps patched, and a ceiling fan hung before the summer heat set in. I was good with my hands, and she was good at saying thanks with a smile that stopped just short of dangerous. Practical. Safe. Nothing to gossip about.

But out here? On a ship with nowhere to go and no chores to hide behind? That line I’d kept between us felt about as solid as toilet paper.

By the second day, I’d already decided cruises weren’t built for men like me. Too many blaring speakers, too much sunburnt skin, too many activities shoved down your throat like medicine. I was minding my business, nursing a beer, when Lilly plopped beside me and pushed a glass under my nose.

“Here,” she said, grinning like she’d just solved world peace. “Mai tai. Paradise in a cup.”

The thing was pink, and an umbrella stuck out like it had come straight off a postcard. I gave it a sniff.

“Paradise smells like turpentine.”

She laughed so hard she nearly spilled hers, her head tipping back, with blond hair catching the deck lights. Something twisted low in my gut, an urge I pushed down before it could take hold.

“Don’t make that face,” she said between giggles. “Just drink it.”

So I did. Big mistake. “Yep. Turpentine. With fruit.”

That set her off again, her laughter bright and unguarded, rolling over the hum of the pool deck. Against my better judgment, I felt my own mouth twitch.

Later, I tried disappearing into the crowd, but Lilly wasn’t having it. She caught me by the wrist and dragged me toward a commotion near the pool.

“Limbo contest!” she said, eyes sparkling.

“Oh, hell no. My back’s not built for that.”

“Your back’s just fine.” And before I knew it, I was shoved into line with a dozen strangers.

Grumbling the whole way, I ducked under the bar, certain I’d make an ass of myself. Except—I didn’t. Muscle memory or dumb luck, I slid under the pole without so much as a wobble. The crowd erupted. Lilly whooped loud enough to scare the emcee, then leaned in close, her lips nearly brushing my ear.

“Told you,” she whispered.

Her breath was warm against my skin, coconut lotion lingering in the air. My pulse kicked hard, traitorous as hell. I straightened quickly, muttering something about “never again,” but the truth was, I couldn’t shake the buzz running through me.

I kept up the grumbling, but she just grinned wider, like she knew exactly what button she’d pressed. And damn it, I couldn’t ignore it—around her, I felt more alive than I had in a long time.

By the last night, I thought I’d pulled it off. Survived the circus. One more round of umbrella drinks, another limbo contest, a few too many tone-deaf renditions of Sweet Caroline, and I’d walk away with my dignity mostly intact.

So, I did the only smart thing—I ducked out early.

Slipped past the dance floor, past Rhett hamming it up like he’d won the lottery twice, past Colt shaking his head like he was already calculating how to get even with him later.

I made it to my cabin, shut the door, and let the blessed silence swallow me whole.

I stretched out on the edge of the bed, lamp low, the hum of the engines steady under my feet.

For the first time all week, I let myself breathe.

No Lilly daring me into games. No fruity drinks.

No more heat in my blood every time she brushed close, smelling like coconut and trouble.

Just me, four walls, and the lie I told myself that I’d made it through without doing something stupid.

That’s when the knock came.

Three light raps, almost playful.

I frowned, half expecting Rhett, drunk off his ass, looking for backup, or Colt with another scheme. But when I opened the door, it wasn’t either of them.

It was Lilly.

Hair damp from a shower, dark strands sticking to her neck. Robe belted loose, the kind of loose that made a man forget his own name. Her eyes caught mine, that same spark I’d been dodging all week—except now it wasn’t a spark. It was a dare.

“Evening, grumpy,” she said, voice low, smile wicked. “You didn’t think you were getting out of this cruise without one last dare, did you?”

My throat went dry. For half a heartbeat, I just stared at her—the robe, the grin, the absolute nerve. “Lilly…” My voice came out rougher than I meant. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Good,” she whispered, stepping past me before I could stop her. “I like fire.”

The door clicked shut behind her, sealing us into the hush of the cabin. She stood there, close enough I could smell the citrus in her shampoo, droplets still clinging to her collarbone.

All week I’d told myself she was just loosening up because of the rum, the sun, the ship. That back in Lovelace, she’d put the wall right back up and keep me at arm’s length again. But standing there, robe slipping off one shoulder, eyes steady on mine, I knew better.

She hadn’t just loosened up this week. She’d finally stopped running from what had been between us all along.

And God help me, I wasn’t running either.

For a second, neither of us moved. Just the low hum of the engines and the sound of my own pulse hammering in my ears. Lilly stood there like she had all the time in the world, daring me with her silence.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all week,” I muttered.

Her smile curved slowly. “That’s half the fun.”

“You think this is fun?” I stepped closer, close enough that her damp hair brushed my forearm. “You’ve been dangling matches in front of a man who already knows he’s sitting on dynamite.”

She tilted her chin, eyes locking on mine. “Then light the fuse, cowboy.”

I caught her waist, pulled her flush against me, and kissed her like I’d been holding back for months. Because I had, her laugh broke against my mouth before turning into a gasp, and then she melted into me, fingers clawing at my shirt like she couldn’t get close enough.

Her robe loosened under my hands, the belt tugged free as if it had been waiting for this moment.

The soft slide of fabric hit the floor, leaving nothing between us but heat and want.

I drew back just enough to look at her, chest rising, eyes dark with that same defiance she always carried—but this time there was no wall. No distance.

“Sweetheart,” I whispered, thumb brushing her jaw, “you have no idea what you’ve just started.”

She smirked, tugging me toward the bed. “Then show me.”

I didn’t need more encouragement. Sandals hit the floor, my shorts followed, and then her hands were everywhere—skimming muscle, testing scars, pulling me down with her as the mattress dipped under our weight.

Every line I’d imagined tracing on her body back in Lovelace was under my palms now. Every look I’d caught her giving me, every almost opportunity she’d tucked away, it was all spilling out here in the dark. She arched beneath me, warm and wanting, whispering my name like it undid her.

I groaned into her mouth, losing myself in the way she kissed—hungry, reckless, like she’d been waiting just as long as I had. The sheets tangled, our laughter cut with gasps, and for once I didn’t think about who might notice, or what it would mean back home, or how long we could keep it quiet.

All I thought about was Lilly—bare, beautiful, fearless—and the way she clung to me like she’d never let go.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, the stubborn part of me admitted the truth I’d been dodging all week: I hadn’t just survived this cruise. I’d lost the battle I’d been fighting since the first time she let me haul firewood to her porch.

And I didn’t give a damn.