Page 6 of Playing Dirty (Millionaire Cowboys of Lucky Ranch #2)

Chapter Six

Girl in The Mirror

Callie

I woke stiff and cold, the couch unforgiving beneath me. My neck ached, my spine protested, and the only warmth came from the dwindling fire sputtering low in the hearth.

Rhett was already up.

He moved quietly in the dim light, coaxing the fire back to life with the same quiet focus he’d had as a teenager fixing busted dirt bikes behind his uncle’s shed. No words, no need for fanfare—just a man doing what needed to be done.

Across the room, Pixie had curled into a tight little ball on the extra blanket I’d tossed into the corner last night. She glared at Rhett every so often but didn’t budge an inch. The message was clear: This interloper better know I’m not impressed.

Rhett noticed. His eyes flicked toward the cat with a small shake of his head. “Figures. Even the cat’s got opinions.”

“I don’t think she trusts you,” I muttered as I slipped off the blanket and made my way to the kitchen, the chill still settled deeply in my chest. My fingers were clumsy as I lit the camp stove and started fixing oatmeal. My hands still shook from the cold, but at least I was doing something.

Rhett hadn’t said a word, but I felt him watching me. I didn’t dare meet his eyes.

“You okay?” he finally asked.

“Peachy,” I muttered.

He didn’t push. Just turned back to the fire, adding another log.

“This place should’ve been winterized,” Rhett said after a while, his voice even but edged. “Propane tanks checked. Generator tested. Hell, the heater shouldn't’ve even had a chance to fail.”

I stared into the oatmeal, slowly stirring. “I didn’t think to check. I thought he had. I thought the gas company worked on a schedule.”

“He should’ve checked before he left,” Rhett said simply.

I handed him a steaming mug of the stuff and sat down with mine, careful to avoid his gaze. “He was in a hurry when he left. Probably forgot.”

Rhett’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t answer.

I rubbed at a stain on the rim of the mug. “I figured he’d be back before the storm hit.”

“Well,” Rhett said, low and firm, “he wasn’t.”

It landed like a slap, not because it was cruel, but because it was true. The kind of truth you try not to say out loud.

The kind that made me wonder what the hell I was still doing in this cabin.

Finally, the bars blinked back onto my phone like a lifeline I wasn’t sure I wanted. I held my breath as I tapped Matt’s name.

It rang. And rang. No answer. No voicemail. Just a hollow little nothing that landed harder than I wanted it to.

I lowered the phone slowly, its weight sinking into my palm. Rhett’s voice broke the quiet.

“Try him again.”

“I am.”

He looked up from the fire, poker in hand. “And?”

“No answer.”

“Of course not.” He jabbed the coals like they’d insulted him, sparks kicking up in a short burst before settling again.

I bristled. “He’s probably just busy. Traveling.”

Rhett didn’t even look at me this time. “Stop making excuses for him. You’re snowed in. Alone. In his damn house. And the propane tanks are empty. That’s not busy, Callie. That’s negligence.”

“He didn’t know the storm was coming?—”

“Everyone knew,” he said, voice low but steady. “It’s been on the Weather Channel for days. Why wouldn’t he check in with you?”

I opened my mouth to argue. But nothing came out.

“I’m not trying to pick a fight,” he said after a second. “I’m just… disappointed.”

My chest tightened. “In Matt?”

“No. I don’t give two shits about that bastard,” He finally looked up, and this time the hurt was in his eyes. “I’m disappointed in you.”

That hit harder than I was ready for. I squared my shoulders, arms crossed, voice sharper than it needed to be. “Wow. That’s really helpful.”

He didn’t back down. “You used to call out bullshit faster than anyone I knew. You’d burn a man’s flannel shirts in the front yard for less.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I snapped, the words coming fast and hot.

He didn’t flinch. Just stared at me, calm and steady, like he was waiting for the real answer. The one I didn’t want to admit.

I turned back toward the window, watching the wind shake snow from the tree branches.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Rhett. I keep telling myself it’s temporary, or that he’s good deep down, or that I’m just overreacting—but none of it makes me feel better.

I’m tired. I’m confused. And I stopped recognizing the girl in the mirror somewhere along the way. ”

Behind me, Rhett stepped closer. Not touching. Just close enough to feel like backup.

“You’re not broken,” he said softly. “You’re just lost. And maybe a little bruised up from trying to be someone you’re not.”

A lump rose in my throat, thick and humiliating. I blinked fast, but one tear slipped out anyway. He reached up—just gently—and brushed it away with the rough pad of his thumb like it didn’t scare him to see me cry.

I didn’t pull back.

“I haven’t been real good to myself lately,” I said, voice shaking. “And I hate admitting that out loud.”

“Then start there,” he said. “Start by being honest with yourself.”

I turned to face him, our eyes locking. “How’d you get so calm?”

His mouth quirked at one corner, not quite a smile. “I’ve been through enough storms to know when to ride them out. And when to walk away.”

That one sat between us for a long, weighted second.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

He gave a half-shrug. “Don’t thank me yet. I might still piss you off before lunch, and you will hate me again.”

I huffed a laugh, small and broken and real. And for the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel so alone in my own skin.

The phone buzzed against the tabletop, and I flinched like it might bite.

Tessa’s name lit the screen. I answered on the second ring.

“Callie! Oh my God, are you okay? Sawyer said you and Rhett were stuck up at Matt’s place. Are you still snowed in?”

“Hey,” I breathed, the word thin. “Yeah. But we’re fine. The storm’s passed.”

“Well, thank God for Rhett,” she said, and I could hear the relief giving way to concern again. “Sawyer’s heading up now with the plow. He should be there soon. I need you to come stay with us, okay?”

“I—Tess, I don’t want to be in the way?—”

“Don’t even start,” she cut in. “Your car’s useless right now, and you’ve been stuck in a frozen cabin for two days with no heat. You’re staying here. Mom can’t wait to see you.”

I glanced at Rhett, who stood near the fireplace, arms crossed and quiet, but he gave a slight nod when I met his eyes. No argument. No pity. Just... agreement.

“Oh, I’d love to see Dalia. I’ve missed her.”

“It’ll be just like old times, Callie.”

“One more thing. Can I bring Pixie, Matt’s cat?” I asked, my voice hitching halfway through. “I don’t want to leave him here, not after—” I didn’t finish.

“Of course,” she said, softer now. “Bring the kitty cat. The twins’ll go nuts. Pixie will probably hate every second of it.”

That made me laugh—a real one this time—and Rhett’s lips twitched like he might’ve cracked a smile too.

The warmth didn’t last long. As I set down the phone and turned back toward my room to throw together a bag, the weight settled again, low and heavy in my chest. My hands shook as I shoved a sweater into the canvas tote.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be living here anymore.” The words fell out of me before I could stop them.

Rhett paused where he stood by the hearth, a blanket draped over his forearm. “Then don’t.”

I looked down at the half-zipped bag. “It’s not that easy.”

He didn’t say anything, just waited.

“He manages the store. Rents the cabin. He pays for my rental car. My paycheck. If I screw this up…”

“If?” Rhett echoed, voice low.

I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at my boots. “I don’t know what I’d do. Where I’d go.”

He crouched beside my bag, folding the sweater I’d just jammed in like I was packing a tantrum. “That’s not a relationship,” he said gently. “That’s leverage.”

It landed like a punch I hadn’t seen coming. And worse—he wasn’t wrong.

“I heard Sawyer’s tractor. Let’s get out of this hellhole,” Rhett said, gesturing toward the door.

“Pixie and I are right behind you.”

Sawyer’s gleaming John Deere tractor led the way down the ridge, fitted with a commercial-grade plow that cut clean lines through the snow like it was nothing. The man didn’t do half-measures. No rush, no drama—just efficient, get-it-done Sawyer, clearing a path like he owned the mountain.

“Pretty sure he’s having the time of his life right now,” I muttered. “Bet he’s already named that plow.”

Rhett smirked. “He has. It’s Bertha. Don’t tell him I told you. He’ll hold it over my damned head forever.”

Rhett’s truck rolled steadily behind him, tires gripping the newly plowed trail. I relaxed a bit in the passenger seat, Pixie tucked in my lap like a princess wrapped in fleece, her ears twitching every time the truck hit a rut.

The silence between us had weight, but it didn’t feel punishing. Just full of things we weren’t sure how to say.

I stared out the windshield for a long stretch, watching the snowy blur roll by. Then I finally asked, “Were you serious earlier? About being disappointed?”

Rhett’s fingers tapped once against the steering wheel. He didn’t answer right away. Just exhaled and kept his eyes on the road.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I don’t like seeing you shrink to fit someone else’s idea of enough.”

The words stung, even though he said them softly, maybe because he did.

I looked down at Pixie, who shifted and sighed like she agreed with Rhett. My arms tightened around her instinctively.

“I’m not trying to shrink,” I muttered.

“I know. That’s the part that makes it harder to watch.”

I turned my face to the window, not wanting him to see the way my jaw clenched, the way my throat pulled tight around the lump growing there. The silence filled in again, but it was sharper now, edged with everything I couldn’t quite say.

Then Rhett’s voice cut through—quieter this time. Gentler. “But I’m still here. So maybe I still believe you’ll find your way back.”

That did it. The lump turned liquid, and my eyes burned. I blinked fast, refusing to let tears fall. Not here. Not now.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” I whispered, barely loud enough to hear myself.

He didn’t hesitate. “Then start figuring it out.”

No rescue. No advice. Just that steady, unshakable presence.

Tessa’s house was loud in the best kind of way.

Warmth pulsed from the big stone fireplace in the living room, laughter bounced down the hall, and the twins were already squealing over Pixie like they’d just unwrapped a birthday present with claws.

She was not impressed. She took one look at the chaos, shot me a betrayed glare, and bolted under the couch like she had pressing business elsewhere.

“I told them to be gentle,” Tessa said, trying to grab a twin on the run while handing me a mug. “Better grab some of Mom’s homemade cocoa while there’s still some left.”

The mug was warm in my hands. Real cocoa. Whipped cream. Marshmallows. It almost made me cry.

Dalia leaned in from the kitchen, grinning. “What’ve you been up to, girl? I sure have missed you since I moved over here to Colt and Tessa’s place.”

“I’ve missed you, too. I hear you’ve been busy spoiling the twins,” I smiled, trying to keep my voice cheerful.

Behind me, Rhett shifted near the door. I turned, but he was already pulling his jacket tighter, the tension in his shoulders back in full force.

“You’re not staying?” I asked, even though I already knew.

He shook his head once. “You’re safe here. That’s enough.”

I stood in the middle of all that life—fire crackling, cocoa in my hands, one twin on all fours staring under the couch, trying to coax out the cat, and felt a strange kind of ache settle in.

Not regret exactly. Just… wondering.

I could’ve had this.

Maybe I still could.

If only I’d seen the warning signs with Matt sooner. If only I hadn’t tried to fix something that never deserved the effort.

Tessa tossed me a soft look as she gathered up a discarded sippy cup. “It’s good to have you here.”

I nodded, letting the cocoa warm more than just my hands.

It was good to be here. Yet it also made me realize how far from home I’d actually wandered.