Page 11 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
Built like a linebacker, he slides into the chair across from me. The guy is huge. And his eyes aren’t just blue but the color of morning glories after a storm, his jawline sharp. Someone can fall so easily staring at that face.
Cash leans back in his seat, his chair creaking slightly beneath his weight. “So… how’d it go with Ben?”
I swirl my latte, lowering my attention to the foam losing its pattern. I should ease into telling him, give him the news gently.
Instead, the words come rushing out. “I can’t sell the ranch right away.”
He lifts one brow. “Come again?”
“The lawyer said… to inherit it, I have to live on the property. For three months.” I take a gulp of my coffee like it might drown the nerves clawing up my throat. “If I don’t, it goes to some cousin of Nolan’s I’ve never even met.”
Cash frowns. “Ronan Blackwood,” he hisses.
I blink. “You know him?”
“A little. That man’s about as welcome in these parts as a rattlesnake at a square dance.” He scratches his jaw. “So you’re staying, then?”
“I guess I’m going to be a nuisance.” I laugh, but it comes out a little tight. “Definitely not the plan. I work online, so I can do my job from anywhere, but I didn’t exactly pack for ranch life. And now I’m crashing at your home for three months.” My breaths are rushing.
He just watches me for a beat, then says, “We’ve got plenty of space at the ranch. No one’s asking you to sleep in the hayloft, unless you’re partial to mice and itchy blankets.” He grins, and my chest tightens at the sight, that small dimple in his chin, the slight peek of teeth. God, who is this man?
I huff a laugh.
“As long as you’re fine living with the three of us,” he adds, “you’re welcome to stay. It’s been our home for over four years now, but it’s still Rose’s house at heart. And if she wanted you there, that’s good enough for me.”
Something hot and awkward crawls into my chest. “I mean, I would never ask you to move out. I—” I fumble with my tart plate, nearly sending flaky crumbs everywhere. “But also, it wasn’t Rosewho left it to me, but her grandson. I guess he never updated his will after she passed.”
“Then maybe it’s a blessing in disguise,” he says, lifting one shoulder. “One of my foster dads used to say, ‘If the gate swings shut, check your boots and climb the fence.’?”
I blink. “That… actually makes sense. Anyway, my plan is to sell the ranch to you three, but I guess we need to wait three months.”
He smiles again, nothing judgy behind his expression, and heat skitters across my skin. “So, you from Chicago, then, Sophia?”
“Born and raised,” I say with a wry smile. “Shocking, I know. Guess I’ll be getting very familiar with Montana real soon.”
“It ain’t the worst kind of strange.”
“I’ll let you know.”
He chuckles, then glances toward Kitty, who’s pretending not to eavesdrop while wiping the counter in tight little circles.
“My usual, Kitty?” he calls.
She perks up, her grin downright devilish. “Already got it started, sweetheart.”
He looks back at me, and I try not to gape. Okay. So he has a usual here. He has a smile that could melt steel. And Kitty said all the women in town would kill for a chance with him and his friends. Why haven’t they picked someone? Are they impossible to please?Or is there something deeper, something none of the town gossips know?
Someone walks into the café, sending a flurry of air inside and, with it, smothers me in Cash’s scent. Fresh sage, strong coffee, old leather. It’s not overwhelming, but it settles low in my belly, and something deep inside stirs and stretches like it’s been asleep for years. I shift in my seat, heat flushing my neck.
He grabs his coffee from Kitty, who winks at me as he turns. “Come on,” he says. “I’ll give you a lift back. Sun dips behind those mountains, the temperature’ll drop faster than gossip at a funeral.”
I finish my tart in two bites, draining the last of my latte as Kitty gives me an exaggerated eyebrow waggle. I try not to laugh but end up giggling like a fool anyway. “Thanks again,” I say, following him out.
“Hey!” Kitty calls, hurrying over with a white paper bag printed with her logo, the sides puffed out like it’s about to burst. “Packed you a few pastries for later just in case you need a little sugar to survive ranch life.” She flashes a smile so warm it softens something in my chest. I already like her.
Outside, the breeze is cooler, brushing my cheeks and setting the bakery sign to swaying. We walk down the sidewalk toward where his truck is parked, our footsteps falling into an easy rhythm.
As we pass the post office, something catches my eye. A hand-painted billboard near the window,bright and cheerful with a slice of apple pie nearly the size of my head.
