Page 16 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy (Wild Hearts Ranch #1)

He exhales slowly, like letting it out is both relief and punishment. “We had this old mutt, Misty. Slept at the foot of my bed since I was five. She didn’t make it either. But even now… sometimes I swear I hear her claws on the floor. Like she’s still checking in on me.”

My throat chokes up. I squeeze his forearm gently, unsure if it’s for him or me. His muscle tenses under my fingers, but he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t flinch.

“Sorry,” he says, clearing his throat roughly. Then he runs a hand through his hair, a little tousled from the wind. It’s a distracted motion, like he doesn’t even notice how much space he takes up or the way the morning sun catches on the dust clinging to his shirt. “Didn’t mean to unload.”

“You didn’t.” My voice is soft. “I’m glad you told me. And I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Walker glances down at me, something unreadable in his expression, but it’s not cold. It’s not guarded. It’s something deeper, heavier, and… searching. Like he’s trying to figure out what it means that I’m standing here, looking at him like this, listening.

The air shifts. I feel it before I understand it. That thick, magnetic stillness that coils between us. Our bodies haven’t moved, but everything inside me is suddenly too much—heart pounding, breath hitching, blood roaring in my ears like a summer storm.

His gaze drops to my mouth.

And stays there.

My lips part, instinctively. I don’t even realize I’m leaning in until I feel the heat of him brush against my skin, until I swear the earth tilts beneath my shoes. Time slows. My heartbeat pulses somewhere low and deep, like every cell in my body is reaching for his.

He leans down, just a little, close enough that I feel the ghost of his breath against my cheek. His scent swims around me, sinking under my skin, and I swear I want to drown in it.

Just a few more inches…

A shrill yowl pierces the air.

We both jerk back as if awakened.

Walker barks out a laugh, wrecking me in a different way. I laugh as well, a little too loud, a little too breathless, trying to smother the way my whole body feels like it’s been short-circuited.

“Guess they’re not fans of public displays,” he says.

“I—uh—I should…” I swipe my hands down my jeans, needing something to do with them. “Wow, ok ay. That happened. And it didn’t. But almost. And… yeah.”

“Yeah,” he echoes, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips that says he’s not nearly as flustered.

I take a careful step back, trying not to combust. What am I doing?

This was not the plan. No matter how warm his eyes are. No matter how safe I feel near him.

Get a grip, girl. Control. You’re here for the ranch. Not the cowboy.

Still, as he swings open the gate and ushers me in, my pulse hasn’t settled. And I’m starting to wonder if it ever will again.

He approaches the entrance, a double-gated system with metal fencing and a keypad, and punches in a code. “Security system,” he explains. “Had some incidents with people dumping animals after hours. This way we know who comes and goes.”

We step through the first gate and wait for it to shut behind us before moving through the second. And then?—

They descend.

A group of cats explodes out of the enclosure. They emerge from cat houses, drop from high walkways, appear like living shadows from under benches and platforms.

“Oh my God.” I laugh, dropping to my knees as cats swarm me with headbutts and purrs. “How many are there? ”

Walker smiles. “About thirty-two. Unless someone gave birth overnight. Which is possible. And we have fifteen dogs too.”

“The cats are so friendly.”

“We work on socialization every day. Local school brings kids out twice a week. Gives the animals attention and teaches the kids responsibility. Plus, we have volunteers who just come to cuddle cats. Turns out it’s therapeutic for everyone involved.”

A gray kitten with impossibly blue eyes climbs into my lap, purring loudly enough to rival a motorcycle. I look around, taking in more details. Each of the houses has a name painted on it in different handwriting, clearly a community effort.

“Fluffy’s Palace?” I read. “Chairman Meow’s Estate? The Purrfect Hideaway?”

Walker actually blushes slightly. “The kids from the local school get creative with naming. And once something’s named, can’t really change it. Chairman Meow would be offended.”

“Obviously. Can’t offend the chairman.” I’m charmed beyond words by this gentle giant who builds cat palaces and worries about feline feelings.

“Oh! Speaking of names, I’ve been calling the orange escape artist who broke into my house Chonkarella.

She and her two kittens have claimed my guesthouse. ”

Walker’s smile is immediate and delighted. “She got in? That sounds like her. She’s one of our part-timers, prefers the barn life but visits houses when she feels like it. Rose used to leave windows open specifically for her visits.”

“Said she had visiting rights,” I tease.

He nods, grinning. “Want to see inside the main shelter?”

“You bet.”

Walker offers his hand as I stand—not that I need help, but I don’t exactly mind the excuse to touch him again. His fingers curl around mine, warm and sure, and his other hand briefly steadies me at the waist. It’s a blink of contact, but my body registers it like a live wire.

We make our way through the cat village. Inside, the main building is surprisingly modern. Rows of sleek cubbies line the walls, each one a tiny sanctuary with a plush bed, toys, and a nameplate.

“This is their home base,” Walker explains. “Heated floors for the cold months. Medical and intake rooms through there. Those back sections are for the older ones if they seek quiet time.”

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, and my stomach does a slow flip. He almost kissed me earlier. Or I almost kissed him. God. What would’ve happened if that cat hadn’t interrupted?

He points to a sleek, high-tech-looking machine in the corner. “Timed feeders. Some of the shy ones eat better when it’s quiet. They all get late-night snacks.”

“This is incredible,” I say, and mean it. “Most shelters are barely surviving. This feels like… luxury. ”

“Every animal deserves more than just surviving,” he says simply. “Doesn’t matter if they’re missing an eye, or bite when they’re scared. They still need love.”

I blink hard, trying to hide how much that hits me. I’m not even sure we’re talking about cats anymore.

“Seriously, Walker. This place, it’s amazing. You built all this for animals no one else wanted.”

He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck, and I catch myself staring again. Not just at the breadth of his shoulders or the way his shirt pulls across his chest—though, yes, that too—but at the man himself. Quiet. Kind. Devastating.

Butterflies riot in my stomach.

“I could help,” I blurt, desperate to redirect my thoughts. “With the website. Marketing. Social media campaigns. That’s my world.”

He turns to me, surprised. “You’d do that?”

“I want to,” I say, more breathless than I intended. “This place deserves attention. You do.”

His gaze lingers on me a second too long. “You’re kind of a force, you know that?”

Not usually , I want to say. Not before here. Not before you. But I just smile, trying to ignore the way my knees feel like they’re moments from buckling.

We start walking back toward the guesthouse, a companionable silence between us, until my foot catches on a slick patch of mud and my balance vanishes .

I yelp, slipping straight onto my ass with a wet splat.

“Oh my God,” I groan, sitting in the mess, utterly mortified. “Of course. Of course this would happen.”

Walker’s laughter rumbles low before he’s suddenly crouched beside me, strong arms sweeping me up as if I weigh nothing. “Gotcha.”

“I’m fine! I can walk,” I protest, squirming in his arms.

“Mm.” He gives me a long, amused look. “Not sure you’re exactly trustworthy on two feet right now.”

He starts walking again, carrying me like it’s nothing, one arm behind my back, the other under my thighs.

I’m all muddy jeans, flailing limbs, and utter humiliation, but the only thing I can focus on is him.

The heat of his chest pressed against mine.

His scent. That deep, rich honey and fresh-baked bread that feels like coming home.

I try to breathe through it, but my body is betraying me—nipples tightening, pulse fluttering, skin buzzing like live wire. I can’t not feel him.

“Go get cleaned up,” he murmurs eventually. “After lunch, I’m taking you into town for some new clothes.”

“I don’t need—” My voice croaks in protest. “I can just wash what I have?—”

“My treat. Least I can do after throwing you to the wolves this morning. Or cats, technically.”

“I don’t want to spend your?—”

He cuts in smoothly. “I’d be honored to help you out until you can retrieve your stuff from Chicago. Deal?”

It’s impossible to argue when you’re cradled against a man built like a carved statue, your brain swimming in his scent and your heart trying to claw its way out of your chest. “Fine. Deal.”

He carries me right to the porch of the guesthouse before gently lowering me to my feet, those warm, calloused hands lingering just a second longer than they should. My body misses him immediately.

“I’ll let June know I’m driving you in tonight,” he states, stepping back like it’s the easiest thing in the world, like he didn’t just unravel me completely.

I nod, heart thudding. “Okay.”

His gaze lingers on mine, unreadable. “Don’t be late.” He winks, and I almost fall over from swooning.

Then he walks off, and I’m left standing on the porch, soaked in mud and confusion, attraction and dread swirling in equal measure.

Because I’m not just flustered or overwhelmed.

It scares me how fast I’m falling for them.

And I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do about it.