Page 34 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy (Wild Hearts Ranch #1)

RIDGE

T he whiskey burns less than the knowledge that they were at the rodeo without me.

I sit on my usual stump, glass in hand, staring up at stars that used to mean something more than just a way to pass sleepless nights. The Big Dipper mocks me tonight, that bear forever circling the sky, never quite catching what it’s after. Story of my fucking life.

They invited me. Of course they did. Cash with his grin, Walker with that way he asks without pushing. “Sure you don’t want to come?” Like I’d suddenly decide that watching other men live my dream sounds like a good time.

Three years since I’ve set foot near a rodeo. Thought I’d buried the worst of it. Not the physical pain, a dull echo I’ve learned to ignore—that’s just part of the job now. No, this ache is different. Has nothing to do with bulls or broken ribs.

It’s knowing she was there.

Sophia.

Laughing in the stands, wide-eyed at the rides, probably gripping her drink with both hands and asking a hundred questions.

And I wasn’t the one beside her. Didn’t get to see her first reaction.

Didn’t get to explain the rules or tease her about city-girl boots in arena dirt. That should’ve been me.

Goddamn, I’m losing my head over her.

Didn’t I already promise myself I wouldn’t? That I’d keep my distance? Let her find her way without dragging her into my mess?

And yet… that twist in my gut won’t quit. Like I missed something important. Something I won’t get back.

She deserves better than this. Better than me.

So why the hell do I want to be the one who shows her everything?

I take another sip, letting the heat of the drink distract me from darker thoughts.

That’s when I hear the sound of footsteps on gravel, pulling me from my spiral. I don’t turn, but I know who it is before she speaks. Something about the way she moves, lighter than the boys but determined.

I smirk as her silhouette comes into view, hair like copper fire, that dress fluttering around her knees.

“Lost your cat clan again?” I ask as she steps into view, moonlight catching the edge of her smile. She’s fucking beautiful.

She gives a soft laugh, the kind that hits somewhere low in my gut. “Nope. They’re currently starfishing across my bed like royalty. I’ve been demoted to the floor.”

I smirk. “Sounds about right. Cats got a solid union going.”

She stops a few feet away, wrapping her arms around herself like the night’s chill just caught up to her. “You always sit out here alone?”

“Most nights.” I nod toward the sky. “Good view. Quiet.”

Her gaze lifts, scanning the stars. “Anything happening tonight? Cosmic fireworks? Star-born prophecies?”

I grunt a laugh. “Nah. Just the usual. Scorpius rising. Orion slacking off.”

She grins, and something about the way she looks at me tightens my rib cage. Then she gestures to the spot next to me on the stump. “Mind if I join?”

I shift over without a word, making space. She hops up beside me, legs dangling, hands bracing behind her on the wood. Her knee presses lightly against mine, radiating heat I can feel through my jeans.

And I can’t even smell her.

Damn broken senses. That part still guts me. Knowing I’ll never get her scent the way Cash and Walker do.

“You all right?” she asks.

I glance at her. “Yeah.”

She tilts her head, studying me. “You looked… far away for a second.”

“Was just thinkin’,” I say, keeping it vague. I don’t need her knowing how close I am to losing it when she’s near.

She swings her feet lightly, the motion brushing her leg against mine again. “The rodeo was amazing tonight. Terrifying too. Like, some of those riders? Insane.”

I nod, biting back a smile. “Yeah. Gotta be a little crazy to climb onto the back of a pissed-off animal bred to throw you.”

She glances at me for a long moment, then says, “Cash said you used to ride bulls, those giant monsters.”

“Eight seconds at a time, or at least I tried,” I answer, and there’s a flicker of pride there. Still is. “They say you’re not a real cowboy ’til you’ve eaten dirt with a mouthful of regret.”

Her brows rise. “Were you scared?”

I glance at her, then back at the stars. “Not at first. When I was young and stupid. It was a rush. Power. Crowd screaming. Felt untouchable.”

“Cash and Walker told me… what happened. About th e accident. And that’s why you didn’t come with us to the rodeo.”

The words hang between us, quiet but loaded.

I don’t look at her. Just track a slow-moving star across the sky and take a sip of whiskey.

“It wasn’t the rodeo,” I say finally. “That’s not what got to me.”

She waits, giving me space.

“It was knowing you were there,” I add, the words barely audible. “And I wasn’t.”

Her brow furrows slightly. “Why does that matter?”

I shake my head, half a laugh escaping. “Forget it.”

“No,” she says, voice gentle. “I want to understand.”

I risk a glance at her. Moonlight hits her cheek, that soft, open expression. She’s not pushing. Just… asking. Curious and kind in a way I’m not used to.

But there are some things I’m not ready to lay bare. Not yet.

“Maybe some things are better left in the past,” I murmur. “Doesn’t mean I want to talk about them.”

Her face falls a little, and I instantly hate myself for putting that look there.

“I’m not trying to pry,” she says. “I just, when I heard, I felt like an idiot for enjoying the night so much while you were?—”

“Don’t.” My voice comes out rough. “You didn’t do anything wrong. ”

Silence stretches between us again. Her fingers shift slightly on the wood beside mine, not quite touching, but not quite pulling away either.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, softer now. “For whatever that night meant for you. And for bringing it up.”

I nod, eyes back on the sky. “Not your fault.”

She leans in a little, like she’s testing the weight of what we are. What we’re not.

“You don’t have to talk,” she whispers. “But if you ever want to, I’ll listen. No questions. No pressure.”

My throat tightens. I don’t answer, just let the silence settle again. Let her words echo somewhere in the parts of me I keep closed off.

Eventually, she shifts her weight, and her shoulder brushes mine—light, warm, grounding.

We sit like that for a while. No more talking. Just stars. Just stillness.

And the quiet ache of wanting something I don’t know how to hold.

I move slightly, the memory I hate crawling back in detail. But I don’t look away.

“Bull was called Diesel Rage. Rode him before. Thought I knew his patterns, but I lost focus, my own fucking fault. Just for a second. Doesn’t matter now.” I shrug and stare into the shadows around us.

Her hand brushes against mine on the stump. Barely a touch. But it grounds me enough to keep going.

“He felt me lose my focus and balance for that split second. Next thing, I went airborne. Landed headfirst into the rail. Hip’s been off ever since. Docs said I was lucky I didn’t break my damn spine.”

Her breath catches. “Jesus, Ridge.”

“I used to measure my worth by what I could do on a bull,” I say, voice gravel-thick. “Eight seconds. Crowd screaming. All eyes on me. That was my whole world.”

She doesn’t interrupt, just listens, her body quiet beside mine.

“After the fall,” I continue, slower now, “I had to learn how to be a man off one. Off the adrenaline. Off the dream. Without the noise and the spotlight. And I also lost my damn sense of smell in the accident.”

That last part hits harder than I want it to. I didn’t mean to say it out loud. But there it is, raw and unvarnished, hanging in the dark like a bruise.

Sophia shifts closer, and this time the contact is full, her thigh brushing mine, the press of her shoulder warm and grounding. Then, without hesitation, her hand finds mine. Fingers lace like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“You don’t smell me,” she says softly. Not a question. Just the truth.

I nod once. “Inner ear got wrecked. Skull fracture did the rest. Docs said it was a miracle I didn’t lose more.”

She hesitates. “Do you… feel anything now? Around Omegas? Around… me? ”

Her voice dips on the last word like she’s not sure she should ask. Like she’s already half regretting it.

I don’t look at her right away, just keep my gaze on the horizon. Stars flicker across the sky, quiet and distant. I wish I could smell her. Wish I could say yes with certainty. But I can’t lie about what I’ve lost.

“Not scent,” I admit. “But… that’s not the whole story.”

She turns, her body angled toward me now. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I may not pick up on instinct,” I say slowly, “but I’m not exactly unaffected either.”

She blinks. “So you do feel… something?”

“Plenty of things,” I say, finally looking at her. “Just not in the way an Omega like you deserves.”

Her brow pinches slightly. “You don’t think I get to decide that for myself?”

“I think you should have the full picture,” I state. “That’s all. No scent, no bond. Not in the way you’d get with Cash or Walker. And maybe that’s fine right now. But down the line?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Just watches me, lips pressed tight like she’s weighing every possible reply.

“I’m not even sure what I want tomorrow,” she says eventually. “Let alone down the line.”

“Fair enough.”

Silence stretches between us .

“You said you still feel things. What kind?” she murmurs.

I huff a quiet breath. “Things that make it real damn hard to sit this close to you and pretend I’m unaffected.”

She gives a small smile at that, then glances down at our hands.

“Guess that makes two of us,” she whispers.

My jaw tightens, but I don’t pull away. “Probably not the smartest idea.”

“No,” she agrees. “But it doesn’t stop me from thinking about it.”

We fall quiet again, but it’s a different kind of silence now. Not avoidance. Just… charged, like the air before a summer storm.

She tips her head, studying me. “You really don’t smell anything? Not even a hint?”

“Nothing,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s like… radio static. I know there’s supposed to be something, but all I get is fuzz.”