Page 17 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy (Wild Hearts Ranch #1)

WALKER

A s I head back toward the barns, I adjust my jeans with a frustrated grunt, trying to will away the hard-on that’s been throbbing since I left Sophia on the porch.

Hell. She has no idea what she’s already doing to me, and I mean that in every damn sense.

One soft look, one teasing smile, and I’m walking around half wrecked.

I’d prayed for this moment more times than I’ll admit—finding her, my Omega.

The one the world promised would fit beside me like fate knew what it was doing.

But no one tells you what it feels like when she’s actually here.

Real. Complicated. Beautiful. And already starting to unravel the neat little order I’d forced into my life.

She’s going to destroy us. I can feel it in my bones.

But fuck, I’ve never wanted anything more.

I never told the others how much I wanted this. I kept that shit locked up tight, played it cool. But I’ve been waiting. And now she’s here. Of course it’d happen now, with the inheritance mess, with emotions already raw. Is there ever a good time for your entire world to tilt on its axis?

And this is exactly why I didn’t say anything yet.

I need her to trust me, not question whether I’m using her for the ranch.

These are two different things, no matter how tangled up they might feel.

That’s why I watched instead. I paid attention.

To her gasps. Her shallow breaths. The way those big eyes locked on mine like I was the only thing anchoring her.

The way she clung to me without even thinking, her fingers fisting in my shirt like letting go wasn’t an option.

And beneath it all—fuck me—that delicious, slick-sweet undercurrent of her scent, thick and needy and buried under her nerves. It damn near brought me to my knees. I wanted to pin her to a tree right then and claim her as mine, every raw inch of her.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

She doesn’t look ready to give in.

And I sure as hell won’t be the reason she runs.

So I lock it down. Push the heat back under my ribs and put one boot in front of the other. The ranch doesn’t stop spinning just because I’m losing my damn mind.

Cash leans against the rail like he owns it, toothpick between his teeth, that calculating look in his eyes that means he’s trying to run numbers, which is what Ridge normally takes care of.

Probably figuring transport costs for the three horses we sold to that Texas breeder.

High-dollar deal, clean money, no complications.

Well. We’re about to get messy.

“Need to talk,” I say, pushing through the gate hard enough that it slams against the post with a metallic clang.

The round pen is about sixty feet across, dust-packed earth underfoot, the fence solid pipe panels that circle like a corral cage.

Ridge has the lead rope in one hand, gloved fingers loose but firm, body still and measured.

He doesn’t look up at the sound, but the horse does, ears twitching back, nostrils flaring.

Animals always know when the energy shifts.

“Thought we settled on sending the buckskin with the others,” Ridge states without breaking rhythm. He gives a quiet click of his tongue, and the sorrel gelding moves at a lazy walk around the inner edge of the pen.

Cash has one boot hooked up on the lowest rung as though he’s settled in for the show. Hat low, sunglasses on. Classic. He squints toward me now, head tilting just a fraction.

“Not about the horses,” I mutter.

That gets Cash’s full attention. He straightens, flicking the toothpick away, brow cocked like he’s just been handed something interesting. “What crawled up your ass?”

I step into the center of the pen, dust kicking up around my boots, the kind that clings to your jeans and settles in your lungs. My body is still thrumming from having Sophia in my arms when I carried her back, her laugh and her scent short-circuiting my brain.

“Sophia.”

The name drops between us like a live grenade.

Ridge pulls the horse to a stop, finally looking at me. Cash goes still in that dangerous way of his.

“What about her?” Ridge’s voice is carefully neutral, but I see his knuckles white on the lead rope.

“She’s my scent match.”

The words hang in the air like a challenge. Like a confession.

“Fuck yeah,” Cash mutters.

Ridge hands off the horse to Miguel, who’d been hanging back near the fence. He’s smart enough not to ask questions, just leads the gelding out of the round pen with a glance over his shoulder.

“You sure?” Ridge snaps.

“Sure as a man can be when his insides are trying to claw out of his skin.” I rub the back of my neck, jaw clenched.

I haven’t been right since leaving her side.

Since I held her. Since I caught her scent and everything in me lit up like someone dropped a match in a dry field.

I still feel it tight in my chest, low in my gut, wrapped around my damn cock like a vise.

Sophia.

“Hit me like a freight train,” I say. “Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Just needed… ”

“To claim,” Cash mutters, voice rough though he’s smiling like a damn fool. “I fucking knew it!”

There’s silence. A heavy one.

Then I add, “She’s our scent match.”

“Ours?” Ridge scoffs. “Pretty sure scent matches don’t come in group packages.”

I step toward him, pointing a finger. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been acting off since the second you met her. Don’t need working scent glands to know your instincts are screaming.”

Ridge’s mouth tightens. “I told you, mine got damaged in that rodeo accident. Nothing has screamed at me in years. And without that connection, what Omega wants a nonexistent binding?”

“But your body knows,” I say. “You shift closer when she talks. You track her movements even when you think no one’s watching. Don’t act like that means nothing.”

He stays silent, but that flicker in his eyes is answer enough.

I swing toward Cash. “And you—you practically orbit her.”

He shrugs, trying to play it off. “What can I say? Girl’s got great tits.”

I give him a look that could cut steel.

He rolls his eyes. “Fine, fuck. You want the truth?”

“That’d be a first,” Ridge mutters.

Cash glares, then sighs and pulls a folded sheet from his back pocket—half wrinkled and smudged. “I did some digging. After she mentioned Nolan. Didn’t sit right.”

“She told us he was dead,” I remind them, trying not to growl the words.

“Yeah, but dead is just the final chapter. You want the rest?” He holds up the paper.

“Arranged mating. Old-school-Alpha bonding contract. Her father handed her over like she was nothing but leverage in a business deal. Nolan Martinez, CEO, power-hungry bastard, real poster boy for toxic dominance.”

My hands curl into fists.

Cash goes on. “She was twenty. He was thirty-five when they mated. Known for being ruthless. Controlling. Hated by damn near everyone who ever worked with him. There are court records, sealed, mostly, but what’s public paints a dark picture.

Rumors of aggression. Emotional abuse. Bond manipulation. ”

“And no one helped her?” Ridge asks, voice low, jaw tight.

Cash shrugs. “Hard to know. No social media. No public appearances. Then he dies, and she resurfaces. Quiet, alone, out from under his thumb.”

“Jesus,” I mutter, scrubbing my face. “No wonder she’s so adamant about not reconnecting with Alphas.”

“Yeah,” Cash says, gaze dark. “That kind of shit leaves marks. Doesn’t matter how strong she is now—he did damage. ”

“And now she’s here,” I say quietly, more to myself than to them. “Right in front of us.”

Cash sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Then, after a beat, his voice drops to something different. Quieter. “You wanna know the real truth? I think she might be mine too.”

Ridge turns his head sharply.

Cash shrugs like it costs him. “I’ve been trying to ignore it. Figured it was just proximity. Interest. Lust. But it’s not. No one’s scent has ever crashed into me like that. Not even close. It’s like she cracked something open in me, and now I can’t shut it.”

He swallows hard, gaze flicking toward the fence line. “She’s in my head, man. Every fucking second. I want to protect her. Tear down anyone who hurts her. It’s not just want. It’s need.”

The silence that follows feels like a damn earthquake.

Then Ridge crosses his arms, stiff. “And I’m just the third wheel?”

“You feel something,” I say. “Don’t lie.”

“I don’t need to lie,” Ridge snaps. “I can’t scent her like you two can. Doesn’t mean shit.”

None of us speak for a beat. The wind whistles through the fence slats. The buckskin kicks at a patch of dirt.

“Point is,” Cash continues, “our girl’s been through hell. She’s not gonna trust easily.”

“Which is why we’re not pushing.” I glance between them. “We show her. Slow. Careful. Make her feel safe. Let her see that she belongs here.”

“With us,” Ridge says flatly, arms crossed, that storm brewing behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” I say. “With us.”

Ridge snorts, jaw tight. “And how exactly do you see that working? We line up and tell her we’re all nuts about her? Hey, Sophia, wanna be our shared mate and adopt thirty stray animals while you’re at it? ”

Cash barks a laugh. “Hell, I’d pay to see that.”

“We court her,” I say, simple and solid.

There’s silence.

Cash raises a brow. “Court her? What is this, the goddamn 1800s?”

“You got a better plan?” I shoot back. “You wanna walk up and say, ‘Hi, Sophia, we caught your scent, and now we’re ready to knot you into next week’? Think she’s gonna stick around for that?”

Cash holds up his hands. “All right, all right. No knot jokes.”

“Too late,” Ridge mutters, running a hand down his face. He starts pacing, and I notice his slight limp isn’t there today. “Why complicate things? Why not just take her on normal dates? You know, movies, coffee, shit real people do instead of… whatever courting means.”

Cash smirks. “Well, I’m not gonna show up in a suit with a guitar, but maybe we could take her out. Individually. Not as dates. Not labeled like that. Just… sp end time. Ease her into it. She has to feel the same toward us, so let her open up to us first.”

“Yeah,” I add. “Take her to the market in town, see if she wants to check out the bookstore, maybe show her the ridge trail.”

Ridge shrugs. “Not terrible.”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as glowing praise,” Cash mutters.

“You’re both missing the point.” I push off the fence, pacing now too.

“This isn’t just about doing things with her.

It’s how we make her feel. Protected. Wanted.

Free. We can’t risk her thinking we’re doing this to manipulate her over the ranch or the inheritance.

This—us—has to be separate. Has to be real. ”

They go quiet.

“You think I haven’t imagined this? Fuck, I’ve dreamed about finding my match since I was old enough to understand what it meant. But never once did I think she’d fall into my lap like this. But here she is. And she’s real. She’s unsure and confused.”

My voice drops. “But I saw it. The gasps. Her breathing all hitched up. The way her eyes went wide like a deer, but she didn’t run.

And that sweet Omega slick just starting to bloom.

How long before her heat comes?” We all know the truth: Alphas bring out heat in Omegas a lot quicker, another reason they tend to be kept away from us.

Ridge exhales, low and hard, his voice quieter when he speaks. “So, what… we each take a shot? One at a time?”

“It’s not a fucking competition,” I growl. “We’re not here to fight over her. This isn’t about ego. If this bond is real, then we give her reasons to believe it.”

“Without pushing,” Cash echoes.

“Exactly.”

Ridge leans his arms on the top rail, staring out past the paddock. “And what if she doesn’t want it? What if she doesn’t want any of us?”

I don’t say anything for a moment. That thought has been lodged in my chest since the second I caught her scent.

“Then we let her go,” I say eventually. “Even if it kills us.”

Cash mutters, “You always gotta be so dramatic? I ain’t letting her go.”

I shoot him a look.

He smirks, then kicks a boot at the dirt. “All right. This is happening, then.”

“Yep,” I say, dead serious. “You want her? You act like it. Earn her.”

Cash nods.

“Looks like it,” Ridge says quietly.

“God help us,” Cash mutters.

“No,” I say, voice flat. “God help anyone who tries to get between us and her.”

They’re on board, even if Ridge is still fighting it. All three of us, pursuing one Omega. It should feel wrong. Complicated. Instead, it feels like pieces clicking into place.

“Oh, and tonight,” I start.

Ridge frowns. “What’s tonight?”

“Five fifteen. Be at Maggie’s Diner,” I repeat, voice firm. “Don’t be late.”

Cash arches a brow. “You setting curfews now, Daddy?”

“Fuck you. She’s having dinner with June,” I say. “Thought it’d be a good time to see how she is without us breathing down her neck. Just… watch her. Get a read.”

“Jesus,” Ridge mutters. “You are stalking her.”

“I’m observing,” I snap. “There’s a difference.”

“Yeah. One’s got a restraining order,” Cash says under his breath, grinning.

I roll my shoulders, jaw ticking. “You two wanna sit around here and pretend we aren’t already circling her like wolves, be my guest. But I’m going.

Not saying we sit with her. She has her dinner.

We have ours. But I want to see how she holds herself when she’s relaxed.

If she laughs. What she looks like when she’s not worrying about the ranch or her damn inheritance. ”

Ridge eyes me. “You planning to take notes? Build a fucking psychological profile?”

I smirk. “Nope. Just watching my scent match in the wild.”

“Creepy,” Cash deadpans.

“Practical,” I correct .

Cash and Ridge exchange a look.

“I’ll go,” Ridge says eventually. “But I’m not making small talk with June. It’s terrifying how that woman doesn’t stop talking.”

“You’ll survive,” I grunt, turning toward the barn. “Come hungry. It’s meatloaf night.”

“You just said the magic words,” Cash says.

“Good choice,” I mutter, already walking off.

Behind me, their voices drift into banter, footsteps following. They’re in. We’re doing this.

And as the sun starts to rise over the hills and the scent of hay, horse sweat, and pine fills my lungs, one thing settles deep in my chest like a promise…

We may not be playing fair.

But we’re playing to win.