Page 23 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy (Wild Hearts Ranch #1)

SOPHIA

T he evening air is cooling as June and I step out of Maggie’s Diner, stomachs full of the best chicken and dumplings I’ve ever tasted.

The main street of Honeyspur Meadow stretches before us, busier than I expected for a weekday night.

Shop windows glow yellow, the hardware store is still open, and a few people are browsing inside. Kids race past on bikes.

“So, about chapter eight,” June says, linking her arm through mine like we’ve been friends for years instead of hours. The casual intimacy of it makes my chest warm. “When the demon prince does that thing with his tail while she’s trying to read her grandmother’s spell book?”

I nearly stumble on the sidewalk. “Okay, I may need to read just that chapter before we arrive at the book club. ”

“Well, he wraps it around her thigh and slowly slides it up while whispering in a demonic tongue about how her soul tastes like cinnamon and secretly bonding her to him?” June finishes, completely shameless.

Her hazel eyes sparkle in the streetlight.

“Apparently, it’s Loretta’s favorite scene.

She’s the one who owns The Dust Jacket Bookshop, where the club is held.

You’ll love her. Or be terrified. Possibly both. ”

“Tell me more about this Loretta,” I ask, stepping around a couple strolling with their ancient beagle who seems determined to sniff every single lamppost. “I need to know what I’m walking into.”

June’s soft curls bounce as she glances at me.

“Loretta Honeycutt. Forty-six, divorced twice, currently dating a mechanic but also flirting outrageously with the new veterinarian who’s, like, twelve years younger.

She inherited the bookstore from her aunt and turned it into this whole community hub thing.

Also runs the food bank, organizes the harvest festival, and somehow finds time to read approximately ten books a week. ”

“Ten?”

“I’m barely exaggerating. The woman consumes books like I inhale coffee.” June leans in closer. “Also, rumor has it she’s writing her own romance novel, titled Roped and Ruined .”

“Stop.” I laugh, the sound echoing off the storefronts. It feels good to laugh like this, freely and without weight. June reminds me so much of my best friend, Meredith, back in Chicago, with the same rapid-fire speech and the same ability to make even mundane things feel like adventures.

“Oh, and she has this theory that everyone in town is secretly harboring passionate desires for inappropriate people,” June continues, her free hand waving dramatically.

“Last month she tried to convince us that Earl from the hardware store and Gladys from the post office have been carrying on a torrid affair for thirty years.”

“And have they?”

“God, no. Earl’s been happily married to the same woman since high school, and Gladys thinks romance is what happens to other people while she’s sorting mail.”

We pass the darkened windows of an antique shop, ghostly furniture shapes visible inside. A tabby cat watches us from the windowsill, eyes reflecting green. June slows our pace, and I can see her working up to something by the way she’s biting her lower lip.

“Okay, but speaking of people harboring passionate desires…” She pauses dramatically, watching my face.

My stomach does a little flip. “What?”

“Did you notice that your cowboys were at the diner earlier?”

I stop so abruptly that June stumbles, her grip on my arm the only thing keeping her upright. My heart kicks into overdrive. “They were what? Where? How did I not see them?”

June’s grin spreads slowly, like she’s savoring this moment. “You had your back to them. They were in the corner by the kitchen. All three of them, trying very hard to look like they weren’t watching you.”

“All three were there?” My voice comes out higher than intended. Heat crawls up my neck. Why were they there? They knew I’d be there. Were they… following me? “But I didn’t… they didn’t say anything to us.”

“Well, they’re not exactly the pushy type,” June says, tugging me back into motion.

We pass the barber shop, closed now but the traditional pole still spinning lazily.

“Though God knows they could be. Half the single women in town, and a few of the married ones, would tackle them given half a chance. But your boys tend to keep to themselves.”

“They’re not my boys,” I protest, but the words feel hollow. Walker’s kiss is still burned into my memory, the desperation in it, the way he held me like I was precious.

“Sure they’re not. That’s why they just happened to show up at the exact same diner at the exact same time you were there.” June’s voice drips with sarcasm. “Total coincidence.”

My mind races. Are they… what, checking up on me? The thought should annoy me, but instead there’s a flutter in my stomach.

“Maybe they just wanted dinner?” I try, but even I don’t believe it.

“Right. Because three grown men who have a personal chef at the ranch suddenly needed to eat at Maggie’s.” June shakes her head, soft curls bouncing.

“So, what, they were… watching me… us?”

“Watching over you, more like,” June says thoughtfully.

“Which, okay, sounds a little intense when I say it out loud, but it’s actually kind of sweet.

Like in the book I read for the book club, when the demon prince follows Serena to her job at the occult bookshop because he can sense that other demons might attempt to claim her?

How he lurked in the shadows, ready to intervene if needed but also respecting her independence.

Except there were actual demons in that book trying to steal her soul. ”

“I don’t think Maggie’s Diner posed any danger to me.”

“You never know,” June explains with mock seriousness. “That new cook she hired? Definitely suspicious. No one makes pie that good without supernatural assistance.”

I laugh despite myself.

We walk in silence for a moment.

June squeezes my arm. “Get used to it. Small-town life means everyone’s in your business whether you want them to be or not. At least your gossip involves three extremely attractive cowboys. Some of us just have nosy neighbors who report on our recycling habits.”

“Oh! There it is!” I exclaim maybe a bit too enthusiastically.

The Dust Jacket Bookshop sits next to the Wildflower Bakehouse & Café, where I ate the most divine Portuguese tarts.

The bookshop itself is housed in an old brick building painted a cheerful yellow.

Flower boxes overflow with petunias and what might be lavender.

A hand-painted sign swings gently in the evening breeze, creaking slightly.

The window display features an alarming number of shirtless male torsos on book covers, arranged around a central pyramid of copies of Infernal Temptation .

“Subtle,” I observe.

“Loretta wants to give the people what they crave,” June says, pulling open the door. A bell chimes somewhere deep in the shop, a tinkling sound that seems to echo longer than it should.

The smell comes first, of old paper and fresh coffee mixed with something that might be sage or incense.

Books are everywhere, not just on shelves but stacked on every available surface.

The organizational system seems to be based more on feeling than on any logical method.

A velvet fainting couch sits beneath a window, currently occupied by a huge, fluffy white cat.

Two wingback chairs face each other near the register, mid-conversation frozen in furniture form.

And is that an actual church pew against the far wall?

“Oh my God,” I breathe, turning in a slow circle. “It’s like someone’s eccentric grandmother’s library exploded.”

“Wait until you see the romance section,” June says, steering me left. “Loretta believes this genre deserves its own room. Behold!”

The side room is painted a deep rose color that should be overwhelming but somehow works.

Twinkling lights crisscross the ceiling like stars.

The shelves are labeled with increasingly specific subgenres from Historical, Paranormal, Cowboys, Alien Cowboys, and I swear to God, Time-Traveling Alien Cowboys Who Are Also Dukes.

“That last one can’t be real,” I protest, moving closer to read the spines.

June pulls a book from the shelf. The cover features a man wearing both chaps and a cravat, holding what appears to be a laser lasso. “ Lady Pemberton’s Galactic Rancher . It’s actually pretty good once you accept the premise.”

“Which is?”

“That love transcends time, space, and species. Also that aliens apparently look exactly like hot humans but with better abs.”

“June! There you are!” a female voice booms from behind us. “And you must be the friend she said she was bringing. Sophia? ”

I turn to find a woman who can only be Loretta.

She’s wearing a flowing caftan covered in what appear to be quotes from famous novels, the text spiraling across the fabric in different fonts.

Her silver-streaked hair is piled in an elaborate updo held in place by what I realize are chopsticks with tiny books glued to the tops.

The woman is practically a walking library display with her necklaces clinking with every movement, one boasting a pendant shaped like an open book and another that might be a tiny typewriter. Plus she’s wearing a charm bracelet covered in miniature book covers. It’s… a lot.

“Yep, this is Sophia,” June says, completing the introduction. “Sophia, Loretta is the owner, operator, and high priestess of all things romance in town.”

“Oh, aren’t you just adorable!” Loretta grabs my hands. “You are most welcome here.”

“Thanks, I’m excited. It’s my first book club.”

She glances at her watch, a vintage piece with books on the face instead of numbers. “You two are the last ones. Let me just lock up, and we’ll head upstairs. The ladies are probably already deep into the wine.”