Page 61 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
Ipull back from the laptop. “Okay, orange cheeseballs, photo time! Look cute for the internet!”
Chonkarella, of course, immediately turns her back to me. The kittens scatter like I’ve announced bath time.
“Really? You were all over me two seconds ago!” Ichase one kitten around the coffee table, nearly tripping over my own feet. “Come back! I need content!”
Finally, I manage to catch all three near their empty food bowls, the one place they’ll hold still. I email myself the photo and hop back onto my laptop, attaching the image, then I’m into my blog once more.
Meet Chonkarella (the CEO) and her two minions, whose names are TBD because I’m taking suggestions. Current front-runners are Chaos and Mayhem, for obvious reasons.
But let’s talk about what you REALLY want to know: the cowboy situation.
Deep breath.
So… I may have gotten to know one of them a bit better. Maybe too much better? Like, definitely crossed some professional boundaries better.
Here’s the thing—when a six-foot-three cowboy looks at you like you’re water in the desert, maintains proper consent while pressed against you in a very small space, and kisses like he’s trying to prove a point to God himself… what’s a girl supposed to do? Say no? I’m only human! An Omega human with WORKING HORMONES, thank you very much.
Am I ashamed? Should I be ashamed? Because mostly I’m just tingly and trying to figure out how to keep my damn head around three stupidly hot cowboys who smile like sin and talk like trouble.
(I’m kidding. Sort of. Okay, I’m not kidding at all. Judge me. I deserve it.)
You know what? Because right now, outside my window, I can see infinite stars. And there’s this one cowboy who stands looking up at them like they hold all the answers. He’s the mysterious one, all distant and brooding silence. People keep mentioning an accident that changed him, but nobody says what.
Is it wrong that I want to know? That I want to stand out there with him more and learn what else he sees in all that darkness and the constellations?
(Don’t answer that. I already know I’m in trouble.)
Tomorrow’s goal: Actually help around the ranch instead of just swooning at inappropriate moments. Wish me luck.
But more importantly, send name suggestions for these kittens.
City Omega out.(Still in the country. Still in denial about feelings. Still slightly wine-drunk.)
PS: If you’re my mother reading this, I’m JOKING about the cowboy thing. Totally joking. Complete fiction.
PPS: If you’re not my mother, I’m totally not joking. He tasted like heaven and promises. Send help.
Ihit publish before I can second-guess myself. My followers are going to have a field day with this one. The comments will probably range fromGet it, girltoThis is better than the demon bookto my personal favorite type: all-caps declarations of lust, feral emojis, and key-smash battle cries like SKDJSKDJSHD I’M ASCENDING.
The cats have arranged themselves on my bed again in a perfect orange gradient, Chonkarella in the middle, kittens flanking her like tiny bodyguards.
“You guys have the right idea,” I tell them, finally heading for the shower. “Claim your space and don’t apologize for it.”
The hot water feels incredible, washing away the evening’s wine and discussions of demon anatomy. But it can’t wash away the memory of Walker’s hands, his mouth, the way he devoured me in the dressing room.
Or the image of Ridge under the stars, searching for something in all that vast darkness.
Or Cash’s easy smile hidden behind country-boy charm.
Three Alphas. One temporary Omega. What could possibly go wrong?
Everything, my brain supplies helpfully.
But as I fall into bed, surrounded by purring cats and the kind of quiet that only exists far from city lights, I can’t bring myself to care about potential disasters.
Tomorrow I’ll work on being sensible. Tonight, I’m just a city girl with a blog, three cats, and a kiss-bruised heart trying to figure out how three months suddenly feels like forever.
The last thing I think before sleep claims me isI wonder what constellation Ridge was looking at tonight. Then I’m gone…
