Page 85 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
I pause as I pass the library nook, something drawing my eye.
She’d just stepped in to grab something, but it’s what she’s built in there that stops me cold.
The hanging chair is nestled in the corner, but it’s not empty. Blankets piled high, pillows arranged with care, a perfect dip in the center like a hollowed-out nest. Two side tables dragged close, one with water bottles and tissues, the other with snacks and books stacked high. A battery-powered lantern glows a soft amber in the corner, casting everything in a warm, golden hush.
Textbook nesting.
She turns and catches me looking. “What?” she asks, feigning casualness. “It’s just cozy.”
I cock a brow. “It’s a nest.”
Her blush is immediate. “It’s not. I just like being comfortable. And the cats like the blankets.”
“Mm-hmm.” I lean against the doorway, trying not to grin. “They teach you to lie that badly in the city?”
She huffs, marching over to retrieve her laptop. “Do you want a drink, or are you just here to judge my interior decorating? I’ve got water, juice, maybe coffee.”
I don’t answer. I’m still staring at the space she’s carved out, instinctively or not. My chest tightens.
Her heat is coming. Probably sooner than she realizes. And that knowledge settles like a hot brand in my gut.
Because it won’t be me she turns to when it happens.
“I’m serious,” I say finally. “You’re nesting, Sophia.”
“I’m not,” she insists again, but softer this time. Less sure. She marches into the living room, fluffy cats on her heels.
I push away from the doorway, shaking my head, joining the trail. “You don’t have to pretend. I get it.”
She flops down onto a couch, and something flickers in her expression. She watches me for a moment, then sets her laptop down and leans on the edge of the couch’s arm, bare feet tucked under her, hair falling loose over one shoulder.
No words exchanged.
That damn nest flashes in my mind. A cozy, perfect mess of comfort and instinct. No matter how many times she denies it, the truth is right there in front of me. Her body knows what’s coming. She’s preparing.
Not that anything I say will change her mind tonight. She’s stubborn as hell. I admire that about her, just not when it’s working against me.
But it’s not my place, is it?
“You gonna join me?” she asks suddenly, chin tilted with a hint of challenge. “Or are you going to keeplurking in the doorway like some cowboy-shaped shadow?”
A smile pulls at the corner of my mouth, helpless and unwanted. “I should let you rest,” I say, voice lower than it should be. “You’ve had a long night.”
She arches a brow but doesn’t argue.
I take a step back. Then another.
And still, it guts me to leave.
I’m fooling myself, thinking I can keep this distance. Thinking I can watch her build a life here, watch her nest, watch her laugh, watch her turn to someone else when the fire hits, and just smile through it.
But what choice do I have?
She deserves the absolute best. A match who can scent her needs before she speaks them. One who can anchor her in the storm she doesn’t even realize is coming. Not someone who’s already broken. Who won’t ever be able to offer her that bond.
Even if I want to. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.
“Night, Sophia.”
