Page 137 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
“We’re really doing this?” I ask, glancing between them. My voice wavers, my stomach churning. It feels like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, watching them get ready to jump.
“We don’t have a choice,” Walker says, then softens,leaning forward just enough for his eyes to catch mine. “But we’re in it together, right?”
I laugh and cry at the same time, overwhelmed, my emotions tangling. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. Ridge, God, if anything happens to you?—”
“Nothing will happen,” he says firmly, holding my gaze like it’s an anchor. “I promise I’ll train. I’ll do my absolute best. But I don’t see another option that brings in this much money this fast.”
“Eight seconds,” I whisper, my throat tight.
“Eight seconds to save our home,” he confirms, and there’s a glint in his eyes, a tiny quiver of his chin, a grin on his lips.
“We’ll need a marketing campaign. Posters, social media, the works. That’s your forte, right, sugar?” Cash says, leaning forward with a spark that has nothing to do with the crisis and everything to do with the thrill of a challenge.
“I can design those,” I answer automatically, my mind already flicking through layouts, headlines, taglines, anything to keep my hands busy and my thoughts from spiraling into fear.
“Merchandise,” Walker adds, his voice sharpening with focus. “T-shirts, hats. ‘Save Wild Hearts Ranch,’ branded everything.”
“Or ‘Save a Bull and Ride a Cowboy,’?” I joke, and all three of them freeze for a second before exchanging a look that’s equal parts heat and wicked amusement.
“Careful, sugar,” Cash drawls, his grin slow and fullof trouble. “We could print that and make you wear the shirt.” He winks sexily.
“?‘Eight Seconds Isn’t Enough,’?” Walker suggests, his tone deadpan but his eyes glinting with challenge.
Ridge chuckles, shaking his head. “?‘Cowboy Up or Go Home.’?”
“?‘Ride Hard, Hold Tight,’?” Cash adds, shooting me a sly glance.
“This could actually work,” I breathe, the first small flicker of hope lighting in my chest. It’s fragile, but it’s there.
“It has to work,” Walker says, shoulders squared, appearing proud.
And as I look at my three cowboys, my Alphas, I realize the shift that’s happening. The fear is still there, coiled tight in my stomach, but it’s being met with something else. Their energy is contagious, pulling me into their orbit. They’re already seeing the arena lights, hearing the crowd, smelling the dust and leather.
We sit there for a moment, the four of us tangled together on the couch, processing the enormity of what we’ve just decided. The cats wander downstairs, oblivious to the life-changing gamble about to unfold, and one of the kittens jumps into Ridge’s lap, purring like it’s any other morning.
“?‘?Ridge’s Last Ride,’?” Walker says suddenly, the words landing heavily in the room. “That’s what we call it.”
“Morbid,” I protest,my nerves flaring again.
“Dramatic,” he counters. “Sells tickets.”
“Fine, but I’m adding a subtitle,” I say, forcing my mind into the part I can control. “?‘Eight Seconds to Save Everything.’?”
“Perfect,” Ridge answers, standing and pulling me up with him. His grip is warm, solid. “Now, let’s go save our home.”
And despite the ache in my chest, I start to believe him. Ronan thinks he’s won, thinks he’s backed us into a corner we can’t escape.
He’s wrong.
We’re going to save this ranch. Ridge is going to ride again. And I’m going to document every second of it for the world to see.
“Hey,” I say suddenly. “What about Brutus? He’s loose again. Nearly gored the lawyers’ SUV.”
They all exchange glances.
“Good,” Cash says simply. “Hope he got them on the way out.”
“We should probably—” Walker starts.
