Page 30 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
“—she doesn’t look like someone who’s planning to leave.”
I follow his gaze. Sophia is still chatting with the ranch hands, but there’s something in how she leans in, how she listens, how she engages. Like she’s putting down roots already, even if she doesn’t know it.
“Incoming,” Cash mutters.
Walker pushes through the door, all six feet, three inches of him commanding instant attention. The chatter dims slightly. Walker has that effect. Not through meanness but through sheer presence. The man radiates an underlying strength that makes even hardened cowboys step carefully.
But today he’s in a good mood. I can tell by the set of his shoulders, the almost smile playing at his mouth. He heads straight for Sophia’s table.
“Oh, this should be good,” Cash murmurs.
Walker settles next to Sophia like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She beams up at him.
“Morning, sunshine,” Walker says in that deeprumble of his. “Sleep well on your first night at the ranch?”
“Like a baby,” she says.
“You finished eating? Want to show you something.”
I tilt my head to the side, watching how damn easily he talks to her, how she looks at him like the sun cracked through the clouds just for him.
It shouldn’t bother me. Not the way she laughs, not the way she leans in. We’re a pack and we share everything. That’s how it works.
But it does bother me.
Because it feels like hell just to look her in the eye, let alone talk like nothing is broken. And deep down, some dark, festering part of me wonders… if the others want her, and she doesn’t want me—the busted one—what the hell happens then?
Do I just sit on the sidelines? Watch them build something I’m not welcome in? Be the one left behind while they find a future without me?
“Show me something?” Sophia’s eyebrows rise. “You’ve got me intrigued.”
“There’s a spot near your guesthouse. Think you’d like it.” Walker’s voice stays casual, but I know him too well. He’s fucking interested.
“Oh, he’ll show you his special spot all right,” Tom drawls from the table, earning a few muffled chuckles.
“Just don’t follow him too deep into the woods,”another hand mutters. “Ain’t no one ever come back the same.”
Sophia lifts her coffee with a sly grin. “I figured he was just being polite.”
Cookie barks a chuckle from behind the griddle. “If that boy’s being polite, I’m a damn ballerina.”
“I’m just showing her around and being helpful,” Walker states, palms up like he’s the picture of innocence, but the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Helpful is what you do with a fence that’s fallin’ down. You? You’re one sweet talk away from handing her the deed to your truck and a key to the bunkhouse.”
The room cracks up, boots tapping and forks clinking on plates.
Sophia just raises an eyebrow like she’s not buying any of it. “Should I be worried?”
Walker smirks. “Only if you’re scared of good manners.”
“That’s bait,” Cookie mutters.
And Sophia laughs, big and unbothered, right in step with the rest of us. Like she’s been here all along.
“You ready?” Walker asks when the noise dies down.
“Lead the way, cowboy.” Sophia stands, clearing her plate. “But if thisspecial placeturns out to be a muddy pond or a pile of rocks, I’m going to be very disappointed.”
