Page 32 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy (Wild Hearts Ranch #1)

“Know enough,” Cash says without hesitation. “Know your laugh sticks in my head longer than it should. Know you walk around like you’ve belonged here all along. Know your scent wrecks me in ways I’m still not recovered from.”

A drop of mango ice cream escapes down my knuckle. I lick it off quickly, cheeks flushed, only to realize both of them are watching me as if I just performed some sort of indecent ritual.

“Missed a spot,” Walker notifies me. He catches my wrist, slow and gentle, and brings my hand to his mouth. His tongue traces a line from the base of my palm to the pad of my thumb, hot and unhurried.

My breath hitches so sharply I swear I stop existing for a second.

“You’re dripping, sugar,” Cash murmurs, voice low and too close.

I look down. A golden smear of mango has landed just above the neckline of my dress. Right over my heart.

“I’m a mess.” I laugh, but the sound is nervous, breathy.

Walker’s eyes darken. “Let us clean it up.”

The way he says it has my pulse tripping over itself, my dress feeling thinner, the air heavier. I can’t decide what’s more dangerous—the suggestion in his voice or how badly I want to say yes .

I should say no. Should clean myself up with a napkin like a responsible adult. Instead, I find myself nodding.

Walker leans in first, pressing soft lips to my collarbone where some of the ice cream landed. His tongue follows, warm against my skin, and I gasp at the sensation. Cash mirrors him on the other side, and I’m caught between them, melting faster than the ice cream.

“You taste sweet,” Cash murmurs against my throat.

“That’s the ice cream,” I manage, breath hitching.

“No,” Walker disagrees, lips brushing my pulse point. “That’s all you.”

Another drop lands lower, just above the neckline of my dress. They both follow it, hands gently sliding the straps down my shoulders to access the spot. The cool evening air makes me shiver, or maybe that’s the heat of their mouths.

Then Cash’s hand slides up, cupping my jaw, turning my face toward him.

There’s a moment where the world narrows to the dark glint in his eyes, the faint rise and fall of his chest, and then his mouth claims mine.

It’s deep and consuming like it’s been building between us since we met, all burning fire and possession.

His lips are firm, tongue coaxing mine in a slow, devastating pace that has me melting in my seat.

He doesn’t rush, but every second is intense, the kind that makes me forget where I am, who I am.

When he finally pulls back, my breath spills out in shallow bursts, my lips tingling.

He grins that sexy smile while sweeping a thumb over my lower lip, his gaze dropping there before flicking back to meet mine.

“Sweeter than any ice cream.” He lowers himself to my neck, taking long strokes, joining Walker.

“We should stop,” I whisper, then lick my dripping ice cream that is going everywhere.

“Are you sure?” Cash asks, pressing kisses along my shoulder.

“Because… because…” I lose my train of thought as Walker’s teeth graze my collarbone. “I can’t think when you do that.”

“Good,” they say in unison.

My ice cream is melting faster now, forgotten in my hand. A thick drop slides down the side of the cone, landing on the upper swell of my breast, slipping under the dress. Then another. The sound they both make is low and rough, less human, more instinct.

“Can we?” Walker asks, his fingers hovering near the neckline of my dress. His voice is tight, like he’s holding himself together by a thread.

I nod, breathless, already trembling.

Their hands move in sync as they peel the top of my dress down inch by inch. The fabric slips over my shoulders and pools at my waist, leaving me bare to the evening air and the scorching heat of their gazes.

They both go completely still .

“Fuck me,” Cash breathes, his voice pure grit. “You’re unreal.”

Walker’s hand grazes the underside of one breast, thumb brushing gently, like he’s trying to prove to himself that I’m real. “So soft,” he murmurs. “So goddamn perfect.”

Cash takes my other breast into his large palm, and at this stage, I don’t know how I’m still breathing.

My nipples are already puckered from the chill and the sheer anticipation. I shiver under their attention. They’re looking at me like they’ve uncovered something sacred and forbidden all at once.

Walker meets my gaze, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Pink,” he says approvingly. “I wondered.”

“You wondered about my—” I start, then pause, eyes narrowing. “You talked about this?”

“Might’ve come up,” Cash says, completely unrepentant.

Before I can respond, his mouth closes over one aching nipple. I gasp, body jerking at the sudden heat, and then Walker claims the other with equal hunger.

Their mouths are hot, wet, relentless. Tongues swirling. Teeth grazing just enough to make me cry out. They suck and tease, learning what makes me whimper and what makes my legs shake.

“God, look at her,” Cash mutters, his voice hoarse with awe. “Fucking angel. And we’ve barely started.”

I don’t know where to put my hands, so I grab one of their shoulders with my free hand, nails digging in as the men devour me, worship me. Walker slides a hand around to the small of my back, holding me steady as I arch into them.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss above my heart. “Still want this?”

“Yes,” I breathe, not even hesitating.

Cash takes the forgotten ice cream cone from my hand, the mango melt now sticky along his fingers. He catches a drop with his thumb and smears it on my nipple, then licks it clean, eyes locked on mine the whole time.

“Waste not…” Cash murmurs, voice thick with heat.

Instead of letting it drip, he presses the cold tip of the ice cream cone directly to one of my nipples, swirling it slowly, coating my breast. The shock of cold makes me cry out, spine arching, hips lifting like I can escape the sensation, but there’s nowhere to go.

“Fuck, that’s gorgeous,” Walker breathes, and before I can recover, he takes the cone from Cash and does the same to the other side, coating my skin in sticky sweetness. My nipples pebble impossibly tight, a fresh shiver racking my entire body.

Then their mouths are on me.

Hot tongues chase the cold trails of ice cream.

Their mouths are everywhere, sliding, tasting, groaning against me like I’m something decadent they’ve waited too long to have.

I feel teeth nip gently at the undersides, lips wrap around each tight peak until I’m squirming, my hands fisting in their shirts.

They each grab a thigh to hold me still, and it only makes me feel more exposed, more owned. Their low growls vibrate against my skin as they feast on me like men starved.

“Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever eaten,” Cash groans against my breast.

Walker lifts his head for a breath, his lips slick. “You’re gonna ruin us. And I’m not even sorry.”

“Let us wreck you a little,” Cash adds. “You’re already halfway there.”

I can’t speak. I can barely breathe.

Fingers brush the undersides of my breasts, thumbs circle my nipples, and I’m gone, completely unraveling. Pressure builds, sharp and electric, crawling under my skin until it bursts.

My orgasm slams into me so fast I don’t even get a warning.

One second I’m melting under their mouths, and the next I’m arching between them, crying out like I’ve lost my damn mind.

Everything tightens, shudders, then breaks open in the best possible way, heat and pressure exploding out in waves that won’t stop.

It’s too much. Too good. Too filthy. I definitely can’t believe this is happening in a truck with melted ice cream running down my chest.

Their mouths don’t stop. Cash is still sucking gently, teasing like he’s got all the time in the world, and Walker brushes slow, soothing kisses across my skin.

I tremble between them, every inch of me hypersensitive, gasping.

By the time I come back to myself, I’m slumped between them, and someone, probably Cash, has eaten the rest of the damn ice cream. The cone is gone, but his grin says it wasn’t wasted.

I don’t even have the strength to roll my eyes. Not yet, anyway.

Cash pulls back slightly, gaze wide. “Did you just…?”

Walker huffs a stunned laugh, wiping a trail of melt from my skin with his knuckle. “Damn. That was just dessert.”

I hide my face in my hands. “Oh my God, I can’t believe that happened. From just… I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be,” Walker says, tugging my hands away gently. “You have no idea how beautiful you looked just now.”

Cash touches my cheek, his thumb brushing beneath my eye like I might break. “You felt like fire in our arms. Every sound you made, every reaction, it was like watching the stars come out.”

A nervous laugh slips out of me, unsteady. “You two are going to be the death of me.”

They help me pull my dress back up. Their hands linger, soft and reverent, but neither pushes. It’s oddly tender, considering what just happened.

“We should probably get back,” I manage once I’m decent again. “Before someone stumbles on this and we all end up on the county’s gossip page.”

“In a minute,” Walker murmurs. He draws me into his side, strong and steady like he could shield me from the world. “Just let us hold you. You’ve earned a second to breathe.”

I lean into them. Cash slides an arm around my waist from the other side, pressing a kiss to the top of my head like I’m something precious. It should be overwhelming, but all I feel is calm.

“My brain is fried,” I admit quietly. “None of this makes sense, and yet it feels… safe. Which makes even less sense.”

Cash pulls me in tighter. “You don’t have to understand it tonight.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I say, eyes fixed on a distant spotlight. “This thing between us, I’ve never felt anything like it. It’s fast. Intense. And it scares the hell out of me.”

Walker’s hand slides down my arm. “That makes all of us.”

“I had only Nolan,” I continue. “Thought he saw me. Made me feel like I mattered until one day I didn’t. Like someone flipped a switch and I stopped being enough.” My voice falters. “It broke something in me. And I’m still not sure I ever fixed it.”

Walker shifts so I’m facing him. His voice is low but fierce. “He didn’t break you. He just never deserved you in the first place.”

I search his expression, half expecting pity. I don’t find any. Just unwavering certainty.

“How do I know you won’t do the same?” I ask. “Fall in love for the version of me you think I am, then leave when it turns out I’m just… ordinary.”

“You’re not ordinary. You’re our match,” Cash says over my shoulder. “I’ve spent my whole damn life feeling like something was missing, and then you showed up and the world stopped spinning sideways.”

Walker nods slowly. “I looked for years. Thought maybe it wasn’t meant to happen for me. That I wasn’t meant to have a scent match. But then you walked in, glaring at all of us, and suddenly everything made sense.”

“It’s a lot,” I whisper. “The way you look at me. The way it all feels. It’s too much, too fast.”

Walker presses his forehead to mine. “Then we slow down. No pressure. Just time.”

I nod, not because I’m sure, but because I want to believe him.

They don’t push. Just stay close as I breathe through the chaos in my chest.

Eventually, we gather ourselves, and Cash starts to drive us home.

Walker holds my hand while Cash drives, his thumb brushing soft, absent-minded circles against my palm like he’s memorizing every inch of me. The silence isn’t awkward, yet it’s full of everything we’re still too raw to say out loud.

When we pull up to the guesthouse, they both get out and walk me to the door. I pause on the porch, not quite ready to let go of the quiet cocoon we’ve built around us tonight.

“Thank you,” I say, voice low. “For tonight. For not pushing. For letting me fall apart and not making me feel broken.”

“You’re healing. There’s a difference,” Walker says without hesitation.

Cash nods beside him. “And we’re not going anywhere. You set the pace; we’ll match it.”

They leave me with a kiss to each cheek, then one to my forehead so soft it steals my breath. I don’t move until their footsteps fade back into the dark.

Inside, three cats launch a coordinated guilt-trip ambush.

“Okay, okay,” I mutter, stepping out of my sandals and grabbing their dinner. “I’m late. Sue me.”

Chonkarella gives me a withering glare and headbutts the cabinet for emphasis.

I feed them on autopilot, my thoughts miles away, back in the truck, back in the arena, back with those two cowboys who look at me like I’m worth waiting for.

Two scent matches. Two men who hold space for me instead of trying to fill it. Two hearts wide open, even knowing mine is still covered in cracks.

And somewhere in the big house, a third cowboy nursing something deeper than physical scars. One who doesn’t look at me like I’m a miracle, but like I’m a threat to the protective barriers he’s built.

“Why is it that every time I make a plan, I immediately do the opposite?” I ask the cats.

One of the kittens meows like she’s just as baffled. Chonkarella dives face-first into her food. The second kitten yawns.

“Tomorrow,” I promise, though it feels weak even as I say it. “Tomorrow I’ll be smart. I’ll keep some distance, take it easier, and let myself deal with a scent match. I’ll get a grip before I run away, terrified I’m rushing things.”

But even as the words leave my mouth, I know I’m lying.

Because what I want isn’t distance.

It’s them.

All of them.

And that might be the bravest, or dumbest, thing I’ve ever admitted.