Page 3 of Knot Her Cowboys
Their fault…
Anyone’s fault except theirs that they didn’t even realize this was for my birthday.
“You can buy me a pony to make up for it,” I joked.
“If we were going to buy you a horse, it would be a Derby thoroughbred,” Bruce told me.
“I wasn’t serious.”
They both instantly relaxed.
“Good, good,” Bryan mumbled. “Take us back into town. We’ll get you something.”
“It’s fine,” I insisted. “We’re only ten minutes out from the ranch. I don’t need a present. Just try to have a good time on this trip and that will be more than enough.”
I stuffed down my disappointment. I should’ve known better than to think this year would be different. The only ones who ever cared about my birthday growing up were Cooper, Cash,and Morgan. In my adult years I spent birthdays getting drunk with classmates, then attending fancy dinners with the wives and girlfriends of my alphas’ business partners.
Never wish.
Never expect anything from anyone.
That had always been my rule.
It was easier to avoid disappointment if I expected nothing, and then I could be pleasantly surprised instead of devastated.
The only reason I cared about birthdays at all was because of Cooper. He’d always made them a big deal even if he couldn’t afford presents back then. I could still smell the sweet scent of wildflowers Cooper would weave into a birthday crown for me to wear, and the sound of him and Morgan scream-singing happy birthday in the empty fields, waving flags with my name on them while we ate grocery-store cupcakes. Once Cash had moved to town in his first year of high school, we’d transitioned to actual cakes, but the same level of ridiculousness remained.
It really wasn’t much, and I knew Bruce and Bryan wouldn’t look on it with the same sweetness I did, but I thought about it every year, wishing anyone cared enough about me to make an absolute fool of themselves just to make me laugh.
We drove through the ranch gateway, the name carved into wood with horseshoes nailed onto it. Pine trees lined the drive. I risked rolling down the windows, getting a huge whiff of hot pine sap and horse.
“Anne, for God’s sake,” Bruce complained, but I didn’t care. As soon as they got out of the car, it would be this smell or suffocate, so they might as well get used to it.
I pulled into the visitor lot, following the charming wooden signs.
“Well, this is…rustic,” Bryan said as he stepped out of the vehicle, surveying everything around him. “The view is lovely, at least.”
Bruce wrinkled his nose. “Surely we could’ve stayed in some five-star accommodations instead.”
“I didn’t want to stay in something fancy.” I snatched my weekend bag out of the back seat and slung it over my shoulder, waiting for my alphas to collect their bags from the trunk. “It’ll be fun if you just give it a chance.”
“I think it’s already made enough of an impression,” Bruce deadpanned.
Bryan looked down at his dress shoes, forlorn that they were immediately dusty. “Why did I wear the Italian leather?”
“Beats the hell out of me.”
Bryan laughed, but the sound cut off with a sharp look from Bruce.
I shrugged. They could’ve read the fucking itinerary. I spun on my heel and marched toward the nearest building that had a sign for check-in above the door.
“She’s already sounding yeehaw,” Bruce grumbled.
I ignored them and shoved open the door, the rich scent of cedar and sage crashing over me and stealing my breath. I froze, staring at a man behind the desk who looked oddly familiar. His gaze locked with mine, recognition flashing hot and bright in his blue eyes.
He fake-swooned, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead and announcing in a dramatic Southern-belle accent, “Well, Riley Fletcher, as I live and breathe.”
“Oh my god! Cashy?” I dropped my bag, bolting toward him as he came around the desk and swept me into his arms, my feet leaving the ground while he spun us. He was such a long way from the little string bean I remembered in high school. I might not have recognized him at all if he hadn’t figured out who I was first.
