Page 102 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
“There’s only one way to settle this,” Cash announces suddenly.
He starts unbuckling his belt with purpose.
“Whoa, what the hell are you doing?” Ridge demands.
“Getting proof.” Cash’s fingers keeps working on his buckle. “She put it in a public forum. Half this gossip-driven town is probably reading it right now, placing bets. We need to set the record straight.”
“By doing what exactly?” I ask, though watching him, it’s pretty damn obvious where this is heading.
“Measuring. Right here, right now. Winner takes bragging rights.”
“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever suggested,” Ridge says flatly. “And you once tried to train a raccoon to fetch beer.”
“That almost worked.” Cash’s belt is fully undone now. “Come on, boys. Unless you’re scared she got it wrong? Scared you’re not the one packing the heat she’s talking about?”
“I ain’t scared,” Ridge mutters, but damn if he isn’t standing up too.
“This is insane,” I state, but I’m already on my feet because if these two idiots are doing this, someone needs to witness it. For… documentation purposes. “We’re grown men. Ranch managers. We have employees who could walk in.”
“Ground rules,” Ridge says, all business now. “Are we talking about fully ready for action or just everyday carry?”
“Either way works for me,” Cash grins. “I’m impressive in all states.”
“Christ Almighty,” I mutter, but my competitive side is kicking in. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. No exaggerating, no creative measuring angles.”
“Agreed.” Cash is already heading for the hallway. “Let me grab that measuring tape from the toolbox.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Ridge mutters, but his hands are on his belt buckle.
“You know what?” I find myself saying. “Sure. Let’s settle this. Because I’m tired of you two strutting around here acting like God’s gift to Omegas when we all know who she was really writing about.”
“You?” Cash scoffs. “Mr. Slow and Steady? She wants passion, not a relationship counselor.”
“Better than whatever the hell you think you’re offering,” I shoot back. “Stalking her blog isn’t foreplay, Cash.”
“At least I’m showing interest instead of brooding in corners like Ridge here.”
Ridge snorts a laugh.
Cash vanishes down the hall and returns, measuring tape held high. “Gentlemen, prepare to be humbled.”
“Hold up,” I say. “Are we seriously about to whip our dicks out in the dining room?”
“You got a better location?” Cash asks.
“Literally anywhere else?”
“Kitchen’s too risky. Living room has too many windows. My bedroom’s too far and might give the wrong impression.”
“As opposed to the right impression of three Alphas comparing cock sizes in the dining room?” Ridge asks incredulously.
“When you put it that way, it sounds weird,” Cash admits.
“Itisweird,” I point out.
“But we’re still doing it,” Ridge says, and it’s not a question.
“Hell yeah, we are,” Cash confirms.
