Page 74 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
I scan the options. “Mango,” I decide out loud. “With rainbow sprinkles because I’m an adult who makes excellent choices.”
“All in cones,” Cash says and then pays.
With our cones in hand and slurping up the goodness, we are off again. But instead of heading home, Cash drives to another overlook, one where we’re alone up here. The valley spreads below us like a painting with only the moonlight bringing it life.
“Stunning,” I say, trying to eat my ice cream before it melts entirely in the warm evening air.
“Beautiful,” Walker agrees. He’s not looking at the scenery but at me.
“Cheesy,” I inform him, fighting a smile.
“You like cheesy,” Cash counters, licking his rocky road like it owes him something. It shouldn’t be distracting. It really, really shouldn’t.
“You know,” he adds, “things have felt different since you showed up at the ranch.”
“How so?”
“Lighter,” Walker answers. “Like someone flipped the switch and everything stopped feeling so… gray.”
“The hands noticed too,” Cash says. “Said we’ve been walking around like we’ve caught something contagious.”
“Lovestruck idiots,” Walker corrects. “Cookie’s exact words weremoon-eyed fools.”
“That’s…” I pause, blinking down at my melting cone. “A lot. We barely know each other.”
I watch them both devour and finish their ice cream in several bites, while I’m still licking mine.
“Know enough,” Cash says without hesitation. “Know your laugh sticks in my head longer than it should. Know you walk around like you’ve belonged here all along. Know your scent wrecks me in ways I’m still not recovered from.”
A drop of mango ice cream escapes down my knuckle. I lick it off quickly, cheeks flushed, only to realize both of them are watching me as if I just performed some sort of indecent ritual.
“Missed a spot,” Walker notifies me. He catches my wrist, slow and gentle, and brings my hand to his mouth. His tongue traces a line from the base of my palm to the pad of my thumb, hot and unhurried.
My breath hitches so sharply I swear I stop existing for a second.
“You’re dripping, sugar,” Cash murmurs, voice low and too close.
I look down. A golden smear of mango has landed just above the neckline of my dress. Right over my heart.
“I’m a mess.” I laugh, but the sound is nervous, breathy.
Walker’s eyes darken. “Let us clean it up.”
The way he says it has my pulse tripping over itself, my dress feeling thinner, the air heavier. I can’t decide what’s more dangerous—the suggestion in his voice or how badly I want to say yes.
I should say no. Should clean myself up with a napkin like a responsible adult. Instead, I find myself nodding.
Walker leans in first, pressing soft lips to my collarbone where some of the ice cream landed. His tongue follows, warm against my skin, and I gasp at the sensation. Cash mirrors him on the other side, and I’m caught between them, melting faster than the ice cream.
“You taste sweet,” Cash murmurs against my throat.
“That’s the ice cream,” I manage, breath hitching.
“No,” Walker disagrees, lips brushing my pulse point. “That’s all you.”
Another drop lands lower, just above the neckline of my dress. They both follow it, hands gently sliding the straps down my shoulders to access the spot. The cool evening air makes me shiver, or maybe that’s the heat of their mouths.
Then Cash’s hand slides up, cupping my jaw, turning my face toward him. There’s a moment where the world narrows to the dark glint in his eyes, the faint rise and fall of his chest, and then his mouth claims mine. It’s deep and consuming like it’s been building between us since we met, all burning fire and possession. His lips are firm, tongue coaxing mine in a slow, devastating pace that has me melting in my seat.
