Page 70 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
“Friends of yours?” I ask sweetly.
“Just admirers,” Cash says, steering me past them with a hand on my elbow. “Hazard of being devastatingly handsome.”
I burst out laughing. “Your humility is inspiring.”
“I’m very aware of my best qualities,” he agrees.
Walker pays for us at the entrance, and we stroll into the arena. It’s set up like a small stadium with metal bleachers forming a horseshoe around a dirt-covered oval. Gates at one end lead to what I assume are holding pens. Barriers line the arena edges, and everything smells like dirt and animals and fried food.
“This is incredible,” I say, taking it all in, smiling at experiencing something new. “It’s like stepping into a movie.”
“Wait’ll you see the actual events,” Walker says, guiding me up the bleacher steps. His hand hovers near my waist, ready to steady me if I wobble in my boots.
We find seats about halfway up, a perfect view of the arena without being too close to the dust. Themetal bench is narrow, keeping me pressed between them even here. Cash immediately volunteers to get food and drinks.
“Corn dogs?” he asks with a wink. “As promised?”
“And beer,” Walker adds. “The large ones.”
“On it.” Cash bounds down the steps with energy that makes several women turn to watch.
Alone with Walker, I’m even more aware of his presence. He shifts to face me slightly, arm along the back of the bench, creating a private bubble in the crowded space.
“You really do look stunning,” he murmurs with a voice low enough that only I can hear. His gaze tracks over me slowly, taking in the dress, the boots, the effort I made. “That dress…”
“You liked it when I tried it on,” I remind him.
“It was perfect on you just as it is now.” His fingers brush my bare shoulder, light as air. “Been thinking about you in it since yesterday.”
“Justinit?” The flirty question escapes before I can stop it.
His eyes darken. “About you out of it too. Couldn’t sleep last night. Kept remembering how you felt, how you tasted…”
My breath catches hard in my throat.
“Tell me you thought about it too,” he insists, voice low, leaning closer until the warmth of him is like a sun I shouldn’t get too close to. “Tell me you remember how perfectlyyou fit against me.”
“How could I forget?” I whisper, almost without meaning to.
“Good.” His hand slides down my arm, fingers trailing heat and raising goose bumps in their wake. “Because I plan to make a lot more memories you can’t forget.”
“That’s very confident of you.”
“I know what I want, Sophia.” The way he says my name wrecks me a little. Like it belongs to him now. “Question is, do you?”
I should pull back. I should rein this in before I dive so deep I forget which way is up. But instead, my body leans into his like it’s not mine at all. Maybe it isn’t around him. Being this close to Walker does something to me. It makes me feel braver, bolder. Like maybe I could be the kind of woman a man like him wants, strong and shameless and certain.
Before I can say anything crazy, movement in my peripheral vision saves me. Cash is heading our way, somehow balancing three beers, corn dogs, nachos, and what looks like fried Oreos like a one-man county fair.
“How are you carrying all that?” I ask, grateful for the interruption, and a little disappointed too.
“Talent,” he states, grinning as he hands things off to us. “Plus I sweet-talked the girl at the stand into giving me a carrier box.”
“Of course you did,” Walker mutters, settling beside me again but not quite touching.
We dig into the food just as the announcer’s voice booms over the speakers, welcoming everyone to the weekly rodeo series. I bite into my corn dog—delicious, obviously—but it’s not enough to distract me from the simmering heat still clinging to my skin.
And the way Walker keeps looking at me like I’m already his.
