Page 134 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
Walker’s jaw tightens, but he steps aside. “Living room’s this way.”
We settle on the couch, Walker’s hand finding mine immediately. The lawyers sit across from us, Brett pulling out a notepad and an expensive-looking pen. My knee starts bouncing involuntarily, anxiety crawling up my spine likecold fingers.
Walker’s hand moves to my knee, steadying it, but I can feel the tremor running through my whole body.
“What can we help you with?” Walker’s voice is carefully neutral, but I can feel the tension coming off him in waves, with his tight shoulders, jaw working like he’s grinding down the words he really wants to use.
Jim clears his throat, the sound dry and papery, before pulling a worn folder from his briefcase. His suit has seen better days, the cuffs frayed and a faint coffee stain darkening the lapel, but there’s nothing uncertain about the way he handles those papers. “Well now,” he begins, slow and deliberate. “This ain’t the kind of news I like deliverin’, but here we are. Seems Mr. Blackwood took out a substantial loan over a year ago while his grandmother, Rose Martinez, was still alive. And used her as a guarantor.”
I am hooked on his every word, waiting for the bomb to drop.
Walker doesn’t even blink. “Sounds likehisproblem.” His voice is flat, but I can hear the sharp edge under it… One wrong word and he’ll cut with it.
My stomach is already starting to churn, acid pooling in my throat. This is what Ronan meant yesterday. This is his plan. My palms start to sweat, and I curl my fingers into fists to hide the tremor.
“Well now, that’s where it gets complicated.” Jim’s blue eyes shift to me, and I swear they glisten like a predator who’s just found the weakest animal in theherd. “See, Miss Hollis, the bank needs payment on that loan. Mr. Blackwood’s got no assets to claim to pay back the loan.”
“Get to the point.” Walker’s voice comes out lower now, a growl building in his chest.
Jim licks his lips, the faint hiss of that lisp curling around everys. “The point is, with Rose’s passing and the ranch assets now under your name, Miss Hollis, that burden falls to you. That’s how this guarantor loan was set up, I’m afraid.”
For a second, the room tilts. My pulse hammers in my ears, drowning out everything else. The weight of those words is too heavy to process all at once.Me.Not Ronan. Me.
“How much?” My voice is thin, almost unrecognizable to my own ears.
“Three million dollars.” Jim doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t soften it.
“Fuck!” The word rips out of me before I can stop it. “Three million. Threefuckingmillion.” My throat feels raw just saying it.
“The bank is giving you a four-week window to settle the debt,” Jim goes on, like he’s reading off the weather report instead of upending my entire life. “After that, they’ll foreclose on the ranch. Already got a buyer lined up, from what I hear.”
“You can’t do this,” I manage, but it sounds weak, the protest of someone already losing ground.
“Wish it were different, ma’am,” Jim says,flipping a page in his folder. “Rose signed the papers, put up the ranch as collateral. Now it’s yours, so is the debt.”
Walker is on his feet before the last word leaves the man’s mouth, pacing the length of the room like a caged animal. His hands flex at his sides, dangerous and barely contained. “This is a fucking joke. Ronan set this up. That weasel planned this whole damn thing.”
Brett, the younger associate, shifts awkwardly, eyes darting between us like he’s not sure if he should be taking notes or bracing for a fight. I catch the faintest smirk on Jim’s face before it’s gone, replaced by a bland mask of legal politeness. It makes my skin crawl.
And all I can think isRonan is winning.
“Can’t speak to anyone’s intentions,” Jim says as he stands, the old leather of his briefcase creaking. Brett is on his feet fast, like he’s desperate to escape the thick tension in the air.
Jim offers a single sheet from the folder, a business card tucked into the corner, and then holds out the rest of the file. “Here’s our card, along with all the bank documents, loan agreement, contact information, payment schedule. Everything the bank sent us.”
“Is there any legal way to fight this?” Walker demands, his voice hard enough to cut steel.
Jim’s gaze meets ours for a moment. He shakes his head slowly, hat clutched to his chest like a shield. “Afraid not. It’s all legal and above board. Rose’s signature is clear as day. Notarized, witnessed… every box ticked.”
“You can leave now,” Walker snaps, the words cold enough to frost the air.
But Jim doesn’t take the out. He glances toward the door just as it swings open, and Cash and Ridge step inside, both covered in mud, shoulders squared from a long, grueling cleanup in the barn.
“What’s going on?” Cash asks, eyes scanning the scene, the lawyers, Walker stiff as a board, me on my feet, fighting the tears burning hot in my eyes.
Jim tips his head toward them but keeps his tone matter-of-fact. “One last thing, ma’am,” he says, staring down at me. “You can’t sell any assets from the ranch to raise the money. That’d violate the terms of the agreement. No sellin’ property, no sellin’ horses, no sellin’ land. Has to be outside capital.”
“Get out,” Walker repeats louder. “We’ve heard enough.”
