Page 116 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
My fingers come away only slightly damp.
“What the…” I touch my inner thighs. Clean. Completely clean, like someone took a warm cloth and carefully…
“Oh my God. He cleaned me. While I was sleeping.”
The thought of Ridge—gruff, brooding Ridge—gently cleaning me while I slept makes my heart twirl. That’s so intimate, so caring, so unlike what I expectedfrom the damaged rodeo star who ties women to his bed.
“Get it together, Sophia,” I mutter, but my voice comes out shaky.
The heat in my belly pulses stronger, spreading through me. And I know this feeling… It’s pre-heat just before it hits hard. The warning signs that usually give me a few days to prepare, to get to a clinic or stock up on suppressants.
My stomach clenches, not with arousal but with anxiety. I’m in pre-heat, naked in an Alpha’s bed, on a ranch with three Alphas who are all my scent matches. I don’t know how to feel. Excited? Scared? Anxious?
I look around for my clothes, but they’re gone. Of course, they were soaked with river water. But there on the armchair is a neat pile of fresh clothes. A soft flannel that has to be Ridge’s, jeans that look too small to be any of theirs, and canvas sneakers.
My hands shake as I dress. The flannel smells like him, and wearing it feels too intimate, like a claim I’m not ready for. The jeans are loose but stay up. The shoes fit well enough.
I need to get out of here before anyone sees me. Need to reach the guesthouse and figure out what to do.
I crack open Ridge’s bedroom door, listening. Voices drift up from downstairs—multiple people, not just my three cowboys. Great. Company. Just what Ineed when I’m sneaking out after the best sex of my life while going into pre-heat.
I creep down the hallway, wincing at every creak of the floorboards. The old ranch house seems determined to announce my presence. At the bottom of the stairs, I pause again, trying to make out the voices.
Business talk. Something about horse prices and feed costs. Two voices I don’t recognize, older-sounding men, probably ranchers or suppliers. Then Walker’s laugh, low and warm. Cash making some joke.
And then, a feminine giggle that makes my blood turn to ice.
“Oh, Cash, you’re so funny!”
I know that voice. Fucking Brittany from the rodeo. The blonde who was all over Cash.
My hands grip the banister so hard my knuckles turn white. What is she doing here? Why is she in their house?
I creep closer until I can peer around the corner into the living room. What I see makes my vision go red.
Brittany is draped over Cash’s arm, wearing a dress so tiny it might as well be a belt. Her legs go on for miles, spray-tanned to perfection, and she’s tossing her platinum blonde hair while pressing her breasts against Cash’s bicep.
He’s not pushing her away.
He’s smirking, talking to one of the older men,probably Brittany’s father, now that I look closer. They have the same sharp features, the same calculating eyes. Walker and Ridge are right there, chatting with the other man like nothing is wrong. Like it’s perfectly normal for Cash to have another woman hanging all over him after I slept with Ridge.
My rational brain tries to intervene, reminding me that there must be an explanation. But the pre-heat is making everything worse. Every emotion is amplified, turned up to eleven. The jealousy that floods through me is volcanic, mixing with the heat already burning in my veins until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
My heartbeat pounds so loud in my ears that I can barely make out their words. Something about land development. Investment opportunities. Brittany’s father mentioning his connections in Dallas.
Then another wave of pre-heat pain slices through my abdomen, sharp enough that I have to bite my lip to keep from gasping. I wrap my arms around my middle, doubling over slightly.
That’s when Brittany’s giggle cuts through again, crystal clear.
“Oh, Cash, I knew you were a sweetheart! And I have our seats ready for us at the auction next week. Front row for the bull riding exhibition. You always wanted to see Dakota Jones ride, didn’t you?”
I hold my breath, waiting for Cash to shut herdown. To tell her he’s not interested. To mention that he has a scent match, an Omega who needs him.
“That’s tempting,” he says instead.
Tempting.
The word slams into me. Here I am, going into pre-heat, needing my Alphas, and he’s calling another woman tempting?
