Page 27 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy (Wild Hearts Ranch #1)

“Thanks,” I manage, trying desperately not to let my gaze trail down his bare chest. I fail. Spectacularly.

God, he’s only ten feet away now, and the man is basically a walking anatomy lesson.

Muscles I didn’t know had names are on full display, still glistening with perspiration from his workout.

There’s a dusting of hair across his chest that trails down to disappear into his jeans, and I need to look literally anywhere else before I combust .

“So, what’s on for the day?” he asks, oblivious to my internal crisis. Seemingly.

“I want to help around the ranch,” I say, forcing my eyes back to his face. His knowing, amused face. “Pull my weight, you know?”

He tilts his head, studying me for a moment, then slaps his hat back on. “All right, I accept the challenge.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t know helping out came with that much drama.”

“Oh, sugar, everything’s a challenge when you’re involved.” The way he says it makes heat pool low in my belly. “Can you ride a horse?”

“Does the carousel at Navy Pier count? Or those carnival pony rides?”

He laughs, a rich sound that makes my toes curl in my new boots. “Not really, but at least you’re not scared. That’s a start. Come with me.”

I follow him toward another paddock, trying not to notice how his back muscles move as he walks. Failing at that too.

“We’ll start you easy,” he’s saying. “Ranch this size, we use horses to check the property, bring in strays, help with the training school we run. You’d be perfect for that.”

“Like horse-riding lessons?” I perk up at something I might actually be useful for.

“Yeah. Got a group of kids coming in this morning, actually.”

We round the corner of a barn and emerge in a small arena set up with obstacles, two people already working with horses, and yes, a yellow school bus pulling up in the distance.

“You’re not going to put on a shirt?” I ask, aiming for casual and missing by miles.

He chuckles, low and knowing. “Does it bother you?”

“No, why would it?” I shrug, but my face is burning, and we both know I’m lying.

“Good to know.” He’s definitely smirking now. “Wouldn’t want to make you… uncomfortable.”

The way he draws out that last word makes me think of other kinds of discomfort. The kind that involves needing a very cold shower.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

“’Course you are.” He leads me to where a horse stands in the shade, already saddled. “This is Junebug. Don’t let the name fool you, as she’s steady as they come.”

Junebug is a pretty bay mare, smaller than the one he was working with earlier but still intimidating when I’m standing next to her. I reach out tentatively to pat her neck, and she turns to nuzzle my hand.

“She likes you,” Cash observes. “Good sign. Now, put your left foot in the stirrup…”

He talks me through mounting, and I’m stupidly proud when I manage it on the first try, swinging up with only minimal awkwardness.

“Natural,” he says, grabbing the lead rope at the bridle.

I settle my hands on the split reins, trying to look like I know what I’m doing.

“Let’s see how you do moving.”

He starts walking, leading Junebug and me down a path toward the open meadow. The motion is strange at first, a rolling gait that makes me grip the reins probably harder than necessary.

“Relax,” Cash suggests without looking back. “She can feel if you’re tense. Horses are like that—they read emotions better than most humans.”

I try. I really do. But the view? Let’s just say riding behind Cash was a mistake.

Every shift of his muscles, every glint of sunlight on his skin, makes it harder to breathe.

And don’t even get me started on how his jeans ride low enough to tease things I have no business imagining this early in the morning.

My thighs are tense, my pulse is out of control, and I swear if this horse senses one more of my emotions , we’re both going down.

The silence stretches. My skin is hot, and it’s not from the weather. I need a distraction, fast, or I’m going to combust and take the horse with me.

“So… I hear you were at the diner last night,” I say, blurting it out. “Funny how you three would go there and not even come say hi.”

He chuckles. “We were there for dinner, not to get in your way. You think we’d stalk you? ”

“Well…” I draw the word out, trying to sound innocent.

He shoots me a side glance, sin dancing in his eyes. “Uh-huh. Real subtle.”

We ride in silence for a few more steps, the clink of tack and the soft thud of hooves the only sounds between us.

The open range stretches out around us like a damn postcard, lush green fields kissed by wildflowers, golden hills rolling toward a backdrop of hazy blue mountains in the distance.

It’s breathtaking. Peaceful. Dangerous, too, in the way it makes me think I could maybe belong here.

Then I catch the flicker of a grin tugging at his mouth, sly, knowing, and I just feel that trouble is coming.

“Heard you had a fun time shopping with Walker,” he says casually, like he’s commenting on the weather.

My face flames instantly. “Oh my God, shut up. Please tell me he didn’t tell you.”

He turns fully now, walking backward with the confidence of someone who clearly owns every inch of this land. The motion makes his abs flex, and I nearly slip sideways in the saddle.

“Whoa there.” He’s beside me in an instant, steadying me with hands on my waist. “Can’t have you falling off on your first ride.”

“I’m fine,” I squeak, very aware of his hands still on me.

“Mm-hmm.” He steps back but keeps those knowing eyes on me. “And cowboys don’t kiss and tell, sugar. That’s the code.”

I narrow my eyes. “God, you’re a good liar. Almost had me there. But he told you, didn’t he?”

He shrugs and turns back around to lead Junebug again, and I’m pretty sure my face is the color of the tomatoes.

“Look,” I say to his back, “sometimes people do things they shouldn’t.”

“So you regret it?” His voice is casual, but there’s something curled beneath it. Something sharp.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying?” He stops again, turning just enough to catch me with those sharp blue eyes. “He’s not your type? Or were you just curious?”

“What? No! I’m not?—”

His grin curves, slow and wicked. “So you do want him. Was it a one-time thing? Or just a you-and-him thing?”

I narrow my eyes. “I’m not playing this game with you, Cash. I’m here for three months. That’s it. No strings, no mess.”

“Not even if the mess shows up anyway?” he says softly, like it’s not just a question but a warning.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs again like he didn’t just drop a grenade. “Life’s rarely tidy, sugar. Even when you try to keep it that way.” And then he’s walking again, leaving me tangled in a hundred new questions .

Is he talking about Walker? About the ranch? About all three of them watching me like they already decided I belong here?

“You’re doing good with the walk,” he calls over his shoulder. “Think you’re ready for the next level?”

I eye him suspiciously. “I’m good right here, thanks.”

That grin is back. All trouble and temptation. “C’mon. Trust me?”

“Cash, don’t you?—”

Too late. He lifts Junebug’s reins over her head and hands them to me so I’m suddenly holding both sets. Then he swings up behind me like it’s the most natural thing in the world, settling in against my back with all that shirtless chest pressed along my spine.

Oh. Oh, hell no. Or maybe… oh, hell yes.

His heat is searing through my T-shirt like it’s made of tissue paper. His chin hovers near my shoulder, breath whispering across my neck. I’ve forgotten my name, my purpose, possibly how to breathe.

His arms come around me, reaching for the reins, and suddenly we’re wrapped up in each other like this was always inevitable.

“We’ll hold them together,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates against my spine. “So you can feel my commands.”

“Right,” I croak. “Commands. Like I’m one of your animals that needs a collar.”

I feel him smile against my shoulder. “We don’t do collars here, sugar. But I could show you what it means to be claimed… if that’s what you’re into.”

The words are soft, dangerous, and said straight into my ear like a secret too filthy for the daylight.

My body goes molten. There’s no denying that I’m wet.

Right here. On a horse. With Cash molded to my back like sin itself.

It’s mortifying. It’s criminal. And when he inhales deeply, chest expanding against me like he’s trying to commit my scent to memory, I nearly come undone.

He hums low, gravel and heat. “You feel that?” His hand shifts just slightly on the reins. “That little hitch in your breath, that tight little tremble? That’s what happens when an Omega meets an Alpha who knows exactly what she needs.”

I swallow hard. “Geez, do you ever shut up?”

He chuckles. “Not when I’ve got this view.” He shifts slightly behind me, just enough to make my whole body go rigid. “And this close.”

I choke on my own breath. “We should—uh—probably head back.”

He makes a soft clicking sound with his tongue. “If you insist.”

And just like that, he takes the reins, turns the horse, and starts leading us back toward the barn, leaving me praying that no one notices the wreck I’ve become.

His laugh is all grit and gravel. “Hold on tight.”

He clicks his tongue again, and Junebug surges forward, not walking anymore but bouncing into something faster, something that makes every part of me jolt against every part of him.

My heart leaps into my throat, fear squeezing me.

Cash’s arms bracket mine, and there’s no escaping the contact or my breasts brushing his forearms with every bounce, and I swear I hear his breath hitch.

“God, you’re loving this, aren’t you?” I mutter, not even sure if I’m accusing or confessing.

“You have no idea,” he rasps, rougher now, his teasing edge traded for something darker. Needier.