Page 45 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
The next outfit is a white linen skirt and a soft green crop top. A little too revealing for my usual taste, but something about today feels different. I tug at the hem, hesitate, then square my shoulders and step out.
Walker doesn’t whistle, thank God, but the look he gives me? It burns.
His mouth curves, slow and wicked. “That one’s dangerous.”
My brow lifts. “Why? Because it’s not flannel?”
“Because if you wear that around the ranch, I’ll get nothingdone.”
Heat flushes through me. I spin for effect, flipping the skirt like I’m in a commercial. “Maybe that’s the goal.”
He chuckles, low and gravelly. “You keep talking like that, and I’m gonna start thinkin’ you want trouble.”
I hold his stare. “Look at you being Mr. Flirt,” I tease, though my face feels as if it’s on fire.
Silence hums between us like electricity in the air before a storm. Then I break eye contact and dart behind the curtain again, pulse hammering.
What the hell am I doing?
I change quickly into a soft pink dress. Not the fanciest, but the one I liked most, as it looked comfortable and sweet, with a square neckline and capped sleeves.
I’m about to call out when I hear the curtain shift.
Walker slips into the changing room, one hand curling the fabric shut behind him.
My heart lodges somewhere in my throat.
“Walker—”
“I know. I’m crossing a line,” he says, voice pitched low and rough. “But I couldn’t help myself. You look like a fucking dream in those outfits.”
My spine presses against the wall, the cool plaster grounding me while he steps closer.
“I didn’t ask you to come in here,” I whisper, my words shaky. Weak. Wanting.
“No,” he murmurs. “But you didn’t tell me to leave yet either.”
He’s so close I can feel the heat of him. One hand lifts, slow and careful, fingers brushing my jaw. My whole body tightens in response. His thumb strokes my cheek. I lean into it before I realize I’m doing it.
“You smell like jasmine and vanilla,” he says. “And rain. And fuck, Sophia… your scent’s been driving me insane since the second I met you back at the ranch.”
I grab his wrist. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”
“No?” His voice is all husky temptation. “Don’t act out what we’re both desiring? That you’ve been looking at me like you want to tear me apart just as bad?”
My mouth parts, but no words fall out.
“Tell me to go, Sophia. Tell me to fuck off, and I will do anything you ask.”
I try to speak.
Nothing happens.
His other hand slips to my waist, fingers curling just above my hip. I let out a soft breath that’s almost a whimper.
“You’re not ready,” he says quietly. “I get it. But I’m not gonna pretend I don’t want you. That I don’t feel this… connection. You walk into a room, and my whole body reacts.”
“I thought I was imagining it,” I whisper.
