Page 122 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
I’m grinding my jaw at his bragging, at the hunger inside me to be the one to finally make her mine.
Walker swears under his breath, turning back to the sink like that’ll hide the way his breathing is deepening.
“She’s still upstairs?” I grind out and throw back all the whiskey in my glass before putting it down on the counter.
“Curled up, sleeping like a baby.” Ridge smirks.
“I think her heat’s coming. Within days,” Walker suggests. “And when it hits, she’s gonna need all three of us.”
“Then she needs to move in with us immediately,” Ridge states. “Today. We can’t have her alone in that guesthouse when it hits.”
“Agreed.” I set down my glass, already thinking logistics. “We’ll set up the spare room for her nest. It’s got the best light, and it’s between all our rooms.”
“She’ll need supplies,” Ridge adds.
“We’re really doing this,” Walker interrupts, a grin spreading across his face. “All three of us. Finally finding our Omega.”
“And we’re not letting her go. Ever,” I add.
“Right,” they both confirm simultaneously.
“Then let’s go tell her the good news.” I head for the stairs first, eager to see her, taking them two at a time.
We reach his room, and I knock softly before opening the door. The bed is empty, sheets rumpled,his scent heavy in the air mixed with jasmine and arousal.
“Bathroom?” Walker suggests.
Ridge checks. “Not there. But the clothes I left for her are gone.”
A prickle of unease runs down my spine. “Maybe she’s checking out the house?”
We tear through the main house, calling her name, checking every damn room—bedrooms, kitchen, pantry, even the mudroom—and nothing. Ridge swears under his breath. Walker’s jaw is tight. And an unease curls under my rib cage.
“Guesthouse,” Walker states, already moving.
We take the steps two at a time to cross our property. My boots thud against the porch boards, and I pull the door open as we push into the guesthouse. The air is stale. Quiet. Too quiet. Then we spread out, searching different rooms.
“Library,” Ridge calls from the hall after barely moments of arriving.
I follow the sound of his voice, Walker close behind, and step into the small room Rose built years back, her own cozy retreat with the built-in shelves and big windows.
I stop dead.
The place looks like a storm tore through it. Books scattered everywhere, spines cracked. Pillows shredded wide open, feathers plastered to everything.Blankets tossed, chocolate and packets of biscuits all over the place.
It’s her nest. Or what’s left of it.
My chest knots tightly. She built this space for comfort, safety. And now? It’s not just a mess; it’s destruction.
“Something set her off,” Walker says, his voice low.
If she walked out of our house… she’d have had to pass through the living room. My stomach drops.
Ice threads through me. She would’ve seen that fucking Brittany was draped across me.
Shit.
And the memory comes back of how Sophia went sharp as a blade at the rodeo when Brittany approached me.
