Page 130 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
We step back, surveying our work one more time.
“Think she’ll like it?” Walker asks, and there’s vulnerability in his voice.
“She’ll love it,” I assure him, though my own nerves are jangling.
“Hello?” Sophia’s voice carries up from downstairs. “Little help? I’ve got precious cargo!”
We thunder down the stairs, probably looking way too eager, like kids on Christmas morning. But when we see her standing in the doorway, cradling three ginger cats while only one bag so far sits at her feet, my lips pull into the happiest grin.
“Oh, they’re coming too?” Ridge asks, though his tone is more amused than annoyed.
“Of course! They’re mine now, so they need to move in too. Package deal—take me, take my cats.”
“Welcome, fur babies,” Walker states, already reaching out to pet Chonkarella, who eyes him suspiciously before allowing one chin scratch.
“Well, I guess we can accommodate three cats,” I say, trying to sound put-upon but probably failing completely. “As long as they don’t scratch the leather furniture.”
“They’re perfect angels,” Sophia explains, thenwhispers to the cats. “Don’t listen to him. Scratch whatever you want.”
We help her upstairs, the cats immediately scattering to explore their new territory. One kitten goes straight under the bed, another jumps on the windowsill, and Chonkarella claims the hanging chair before anyone else can.
“Chonky, that’s my spot!” Sophia protests, but she’s laughing.
Then she really looks around the room for the first time, and her mouth falls open.
“You did this for me?” Her voice is barely a whisper, and I swear she’s tearing up. She walks slowly into the room, touching everything, running her fingers over the soft blankets, testing the chair’s swing after relocating Chonkarella, opening the mini fridge to laugh at the amount of chocolate inside. “Just now? In the time it took me to pack?”
“We move fast,” Walker admits with a wink, rubbing the back of his neck.
Her eyes go wide, and her hand flies to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she whispers. “You’re going to make me cry.”
I want her to know exactly how far we’ll go to make her feel safe here.
“This is…” She turns slowly. “This is everything.”
When she reaches the window, the one facing the mountains, she stops dead, palm pressed to the glass. The view of the mountains is spectacular. “It’s perfect,”she murmurs. “No one has ever… I’ve never had anything like this.”
The invisible armor she’s worn since the day she set foot on this ranch, the steel in her spine, the walls around her heart… all of it softens in one tiny, unguarded moment. I hear it in her voice, and it’s beautiful.
My chest pulls tight, like somebody is cinching a rope around it, only this time it’s not from anger—but sheer happiness.
Before Ridge can so much as twitch, I’m already crossing the space and wrapping her up in my arms. She melts against me, soft and warm, and I swear I could stand here all day just breathing her in. “Then you’d better get used to it, sugar,” I whisper into her hair. “This is just the start.”
She tilts her face up to me, and whatever she sees there must be enough, because her lips part, her eyes soften, and she lets me close that last inch.
Her mouth tastes like chocolate cake and tears. Her fingers curl into my shirt, holding me there. I kiss her slowly at first, then deeper, until I’m tasting every little sound she makes, every shiver. I’ve kissed her before, but this… this feels like claiming.
By the time I pull back, she’s breathing like she just ran the ridge trail, cheeks flushed, pupils wide.
“That’s how you say thank you,” I tell her, my thumb brushing over her jaw.
Her laugh is shaky, but it’s real. “Guess I’ll have to thank you all a lot, then.”
“Count on it.”
Ridge steps in, all sharp edges like he’s daring me to stop him. He spins her to face him and curls a hand into her hair, tilting her head just enough to take her mouth like it’s his by right. His kiss is rough, deep, the kind that steals the air from the room, and when she fists his shirt in return as well, he makes this low, satisfied growl.
I can see her shiver from where I’m standing. Hell, I can feel my own hands clenching because watching them is its own kind of torture.
