Page 37 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
“This is their home base,” Walker explains. “Heated floors for the cold months. Medical and intake rooms through there. Those back sections are for the older ones if they seek quiet time.”
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, and my stomach does a slow flip. He almost kissed me earlier. Or I almost kissed him.God.What would’ve happened if that cat hadn’t interrupted?
He points to a sleek, high-tech-looking machine in the corner. “Timed feeders. Some of the shy ones eat better when it’s quiet. They all get late-night snacks.”
“This is incredible,” I say, and mean it. “Most shelters are barely surviving. This feels like… luxury.”
“Every animal deserves more than just surviving,” he says simply. “Doesn’t matter if they’re missing an eye, or bite when they’re scared. They still need love.”
I blink hard, trying to hide how much that hits me. I’m not even sure we’re talking about cats anymore.
“Seriously, Walker. This place, it’s amazing. You built all this for animals no one else wanted.”
He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck, and I catch myself staring again. Not just at the breadth of his shoulders or the way his shirt pulls across his chest—though, yes, that too—but at the man himself. Quiet. Kind. Devastating.
Butterflies riot in my stomach.
“I could help,” I blurt, desperate to redirect my thoughts. “With the website. Marketing. Social media campaigns. That’s my world.”
He turns to me, surprised. “You’d do that?”
“I want to,” I say, more breathless than I intended. “This place deserves attention. You do.”
His gaze lingers on me a second too long. “You’re kind of a force, you know that?”
Not usually, I want to say.Not before here. Not before you.But I just smile, trying to ignore the way my knees feel like they’re moments from buckling.
We start walking back toward the guesthouse, a companionable silence between us, until my foot catches on a slick patch of mud and my balance vanishes.
I yelp, slipping straight onto my ass with a wet splat.
“Oh my God,” I groan, sitting in the mess, utterly mortified. “Of course. Of course this would happen.”
Walker’s laughter rumbles low before he’s suddenly crouched beside me, strong arms sweeping me up as if I weigh nothing. “Gotcha.”
“I’m fine! I can walk,” I protest, squirming in his arms.
“Mm.” He gives me a long, amused look. “Not sure you’re exactly trustworthy on two feet right now.”
He starts walking again, carrying me like it’s nothing, one arm behind my back, the other under my thighs. I’m all muddy jeans, flailing limbs, and utter humiliation, but the only thing I can focus on is him. The heat of his chest pressed against mine. His scent. That deep, rich honey and fresh-baked bread that feels like coming home.
I try to breathe through it, but my body is betraying me—nipples tightening, pulse fluttering, skin buzzing like live wire. I can’t not feel him.
“Go get cleaned up,” he murmurs eventually. “After lunch, I’m taking you into town for some new clothes.”
“I don’t need—” My voice croaks in protest. “I can just wash what I have?—”
“My treat. Least I can do after throwing you to the wolves this morning. Or cats, technically.”
“I don’t want to spend your?—”
He cuts in smoothly. “I’d be honored to help youout until you can retrieve your stuff from Chicago. Deal?”
It’s impossible to argue when you’re cradled against a man built like a carved statue, your brain swimming in his scent and your heart trying to claw its way out of your chest. “Fine. Deal.”
He carries me right to the porch of the guesthouse before gently lowering me to my feet, those warm, calloused hands lingering just a second longer than they should. My body misses him immediately.
“I’ll let June know I’m driving you in tonight,” he states, stepping back like it’s the easiest thing in the world, like he didn’t just unravel me completely.
