Page 29 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
Christ, she’s gorgeous. I’m damaged, not dead, and my cock certainly isn’t broken. The way those leggings hugged her curves, how her eyes caught the starlight, those lips that made me think about all the filthy things I wanted them to do…
No. Focus on the job. The ranch. The life we’ve built. Last time I let my mind wander to what I wanted instead of what I needed, I lost everything that mattered. Besides, she’s… addictive. Beautiful in a way that gets under your skin if you let it.But she’s just another Omega to me. A pretty face. That’s all, I remind myself.
The dining hall sits between the main house and the bunkhouses, a long building that’s the real heart of the operation.
As I walk the gravel path, something feels… off. Or maybe right. My hip isn’t aching. The usual pull in my leg is just… gone today. I must have slept better than I thought, even with that damn dream.
Then the smell finds me of bacon, eggs, biscuits, and Cookie’s famous gravy that could make a grown man weep. I follow it toward the door, trying not to read into anything.
Laughter hits me as soon as I enter, more than usual for this early hour. I stop in the doorway, taking in the scene.
The dining hall is simple with long wooden tables scarred from years of use, benches on either side, a buffet-style serving area where Cookie sets up. The oldArmy cook runs this kitchen like his personal kingdom, feeding fifteen-plus ranch hands, including us, three meals a day without complaint.
But this morning is different. There’s energy in the air, sparked by a certain redhead holding attention at the center table.
Sophia has half the ranch hands hanging on her every word, gesturing with a fork as she tells some story. “…and then the system completely crashed! Three million people watching my client teaching yoga when the screen freezes mid-downward dog—right as Bob the goat strolls into frame with her sports bra dangling from his mouth like it’s lunch.”
The men roar with laughter. Even Cookie is grinning as he flips pancakes, and that man hasn’t smiled since… ever.
“So what’d you do?” asks Dennis, one of our younger hands.
“Only thing I could do. I turned it into content!” Sophia grins. “Posted aboutTechnical Difficulties and Goat Overlords. Got more engagement than the original video would have.”
She fits here like she was born into it.
Cash appears at my elbow, nudging me. “Look who’s making friends.”
“She’s certainly… adaptable.” I head for the serving line, trying not to notice how her laugh scrapes something raw in my chest, reckless and too damn bright.
“Adaptable,” Cash repeats, loading his plate withenough food for three men. “That your explanation? From my point of view, she’s got half the ranch wrapped around her little finger, and she hasn’t even been here forty-eight hours.”
“She owns the place,” I remind him, adding bacon to my pile. “Makes sense to play nice.”
“Uh-huh.” Cash grabs the syrup. “That’s why you were having a private conversation with her at three in the morning?”
I shoot him a look. “You were watching?”
“A new Omega shows up smelling like heaven? Of course I’m watching.” He lowers his voice further. “Saw you two in the moonlight. Very romantic.”
“It wasn’t—” I stop myself. No point in arguing with Cash when he’s in this mood. “We agreed to keep our distance, remember? Too much riding on this.”
“Right,” Cash drawls, clearly not buying it. “Because you looked real distant when you were tucking her hair behind her ear.”
“How the fuck could you see that detail from the house?”
“I’ve got skills.” He grins. “Also binoculars.”
“You’re a sick bastard.”
“And you’re so wound up I could play you like a fiddle.” He nods toward Sophia. “When was the last time you reacted to an Omega like this?”
“Never.” The answer is immediate and unwanted. I’ve been with women since the accident. But none of them made me feel like I was burning from the insideout. Except, the reality is that we can’t ever have a true bond, a scent match, not what an Omega and an Alpha should, what she deserves.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say finally. “Three months and she’s gone.”
“That what you’re telling yourself?” Cash loads his plate higher. “Because from where I’m standing?—”
“With your binoculars like some creep?”
