Page 174 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
They talk about babies like it’s already decided. Like it’s not thismassive, irreversible thing that reshapes everything.
I’ve been trying to slow the guys down. To breathe. To catch up.
They’ve already built the future in their heads, fenced it in, named the horses, hung curtains in the nursery.
And me?
I’m still learning how not to flinch when someone calls this “home.”
So, yeah…babies?
It’s too fast.
Too big.
“We have the space,” Ridge points out, totally unfazed.
“And the help,” Cash adds with a grin. “Whole ranch to raise them. Plus you two,” he says, nodding toward June and Meredith like he’s just offered them a favor.
June snorts. “You just volunteered us as ranch nannies?”
Meredith raises an eyebrow. “Do I looklike I have maternal energy? I own shoes I haven’t even committed to.”
Cash only shrugs, smug. “You’ve got strong auntie vibes.”
“Oh, I’ll be the fun aunt,” June says, cracking a beer. “The one who teaches them to swear in five languages and lets them have cookies for breakfast.”
Meredith leans back dramatically. “And I’ll teach them how to emotionally repress things until they become funny. You’re welcome.”
“But itwouldbe perfect for kids,” Walker adds, softer, but with that spark in his eyes. “Teaching them to ride, to work the land… giving them space to grow up grounded.”
I look atmycowboys all talking so openly, so casually, about this wild, beautiful future like it’s just a few fence posts away.
And my brain?
Fully short-circuiting.
Because somewhere between the guys’ ridiculous baby-planning and their heartfelt vision of little boots in the dirt, something inside me starts melting. Not in a scary way, but in adangerously temptingone.
Do I want this?
God help me, Imight. But I’m also leaving it to see if it happens naturally.
“You’re all insane,” I tell them, but I’m smiling. Because the truth is, I can see it. Little kids running through these rooms, learning to ride, growing upsurrounded by love and chosen family, and yes, probably learning to avoid Brutus.
“Good thing you love us anyway,” Ridge says, pulling me in for a kiss.
“Come on, let’s sit outside on the porch,” Walker offers, already heading that way with a beer in hand.
We follow, one by one, settling onto one of the two wooden bench swings and the weathered chairs scattered across the porch. The drinks are cold, the air is warm, and the sun spills gold across the fields like a blessing. The land stretches wide and quiet before us, the mountains standing watch in the distance.
It’s beautiful. All of it.
And as we sit there, Meredith and June plotting how to terrify the local book club into choosing even spicier reads, and my three Alphas pretending they’re not already scheming up a schedule for baby-making, I feel it.
That slow, breathtaking ache ofrightness.
This is it.
