Page 84 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
“Almost there,” I grit. Ten more feet. Just ten.
Then the larger one lunges.
“Go!” I bark, shoving Sophia toward the steps. “Get inside, now!”
She stumbles but doesn’t argue, racing up the porch. I hear the door creak as she grabs it.
I pivot, swinging the branch wide in a warning arc just as the animal closes the distance. I don’t want to hurt it. I really don’t. But I won’t let it get near her. Iplant my boots and bare my teeth right back at the fucker.
“Not tonight,” I snarl. “Not her.”
The smaller one tries to dart past me. I block it with a hard sweep, slamming the stick into the dirt right in front of its path. The thud vibrates all the way up to my shoulders, but the coyote gets the point.
Both animals hesitate, whining low.
“That’s right,” I growl. “Nothing here for you. Move the fuck on.”
They retreat slowly, shadows slipping back into the tree line. I wait until I can’t see their eyes anymore before I turn.
Sophia’s standing in the doorway, hand clutching the doorknob, chest rising and falling like she just ran a mile. Her eyes meet mine, wide, wild, and then she’s flying down the steps.
Straight into my arms.
I catch her without hesitation. She buries her face in my chest, clinging to me, and I feel the last of the adrenaline burn off like smoke in the air.
“You okay?” I murmur into her hair.
She nods, but her voice wobbles. “You didn’t even hesitate.”
“I wasn’t about to let them get near you.”
“You were…” She pulls back just enough to look at me, her eyes searching mine as I walk us onto the porch. “That was the manliest thing I’ve ever seen.”
My lips twitch, but I’m still riding the edge of that protective high. I cup her jaw gently. “Are you okay?”
She nods, staring up at me.
I hold her against me like she’s mine.
Because for those few terrifying minutes, she was.
And I’m not sure I ever want to let her go.
I carry her the whole way back into the guesthouse, arms tight around her, like putting her down too soon might invite those coyotes to try again. She doesn’t argue. Just leans into me, her cheek against my chest, warm breath feathering through my shirt.
I kick the door shut behind us, and only then does she squirm gently. “You can put me down now,” she mumbles, clearly flustered.
I do, slowly and carefully, trying not to think about the softness of her against me. But it’s already burned into my skin. The feel of her breasts pressed close. The way her breath caught when I lifted her. The quiet tremor I wasn’t supposed to notice.
She flicks on the hall light, brushing back her hair, and starts toward the living room. I follow, more out of instinct than invitation. It’s been months since I’ve set foot inside the guesthouse. Since it was just a quiet shell for temporary stays.
But now?
Now it looks like someone lives here.
Her boots are kicked under the side table, jacket tossed over a chair. A mug with the words “I Do What IWant” sits beside an open book, bookmark wedged in at an angle. The barn cats trail her like ducklings, meowing their complaints. She hums under her breath—off-key, relaxed. Like this place belongs to her now.
And hell, maybe it does.
