Page 35 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy (Wild Hearts Ranch #1)

She glances over, watching me closely.

“But you?” I let out a slow breath. “You’re not static. You’re loud. Sharp. The kind of noise that keeps a man up at night.”

Her lips twitch. “Loud, huh?”

I nudge her boot with mine. “Not always a bad thing. Just means I walk into rooms and miss the smell of burned coffee or food but somehow still notice when you’re near. Go figure.”

She laughs, warm and unguarded, and it settles something in my chest.

We fall into silence again. Not awkward, but just full. The kind of quiet that hangs heavily between two people carrying more than they say.

She hasn’t pulled away from me. Hasn’t made an excuse to leave. That surprises me more than it should. Most people look at me too long and decide they’ve seen enough. But not her. She’s still here. Still warm at my side. Still leaning in like maybe I’m worth staying for.

She clears her throat softly. “My ex did the same to me,” she says. “Different circumstances, but same result. Ripped my life away without my say.”

I don’t respond. Just wait. Sometimes silence does more than words ever could.

“I was forced into a match with him. Family arrangement. He wasn’t my scent match, but our families thought we were perfect on paper.

Good for business, good for bloodlines.” Her voice goes bitter.

“My family kept blaming me for not making him happy. Kept saying I wasn’t trying hard enough, wasn’t Omega enough. ”

“Sounds like they were assholes.”

She huffs a dry laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“I really thought at first it would just take some time, as he was kind initially. Then, after several months together, I was convinced he’d reject me officially.

Let me go. Instead, he kept me around to save face.

To the world, we were the perfect couple.

Behind closed doors? I was a ghost. He barely spoke to me, didn’t touch me after the first few times.

I was just… there. Existing but not living. ”

My jaw tightens. Something cold and angry rises in my chest, sharp enough to make my fingers twitch.

Knowing the bastard is already in the ground doesn’t make it easier.

Doesn’t stop the anger from curling in my gut.

Can’t hurt him now, but that doesn’t kill the urge.

She doesn’t need revenge, though. She needs someone who actually sees her. Someone who stays.

“Fuck.” The word slips out anyway, low and guttural.

“Sometimes I wonder why he left me this ranch in his will. Was it some twisted final gesture? Or did he set it up when we first got together and just forgot to change it?” She turns her face into my shoulder. “Probably the latter. I was always forgettable to him.”

I set my glass down on the ground and shift, tugging her closer to me. Her body molds against my side, soft and heartbreakingly real, and I wrap my arms around her before the fury gets the better of me.

“He was a fucking idiot,” I murmur. “Had no idea how lucky he was to have you.”

She sinks into the embrace, and for a second, everything else disappears. Just the two of us and the night, and the pieces of our pasts we’re finally letting someone else see.

My body notices every inch of her pressed against me. How could it not? But I shut it down. This isn’t about wanting her. Not right now. This is about her needing someone to prove she’s not invisible.

After a long moment, I point to a patch of stars just above the tree line. “You know what constellation that is?”

Her head lifts slightly. “Which one?”

“Andromeda,” I say, lifting my hand to trace the pattern in the sky. “See those four stars in a curved line there? That’s her torso. The ones branching out mark her arms, chained to the rock. The rest trails off toward Pegasus.”

She squints up at the night sky, following the lines I draw in the air. “Huh. I wouldn’t have guessed those looked like a woman chained to a rock.”

“Most people don’t.” I glance at her, then back at the stars. “But the story sticks.”

She settles closer, cheek brushing my chest again. “What’s that?”

I let out a slow breath. “Andromeda was a princess. Her mother bragged that she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs. Gods didn’t like that. So they punished the whole kingdom by sending a sea monster to wreck everything. To stop it, her parents chained her to a rock as a sacrifice.”

She exhales. “Cheerful.”

“Wait for it.” I rest my chin lightly on top of her head. “Perseus saw her there. Chained. Alone. And he didn’t keep walking. He fought the monster, freed her, and made her his queen.”

Silence lingers between us, heavy and quiet. I stare at the stars, but I feel her watching me.

“Sometimes,” I add, voice lower now, “we have to be chained to the rock before we find what we’re really meant for. Until we find that answer or… person.”

She pulls back slowly, and when our gazes meet, her expression is softer than I’ve ever seen it. In the moonlight, her eyes are vivid green.

“You shouldn’t hide that romantic streak under all that brooding,” she says, almost a whisper. “You’re an amazing guy, Ridge. So easy to talk to and…”

Her gaze flicks down to my mouth. Lingers.

For a second, I think she’s going to close the space between us. My heart stumbles. Every instinct says to lean in, to taste her, to take just one moment for myself.

But she looks away. The space stretches out again, and the moment is gone.

Of course.

Why would she want the broken one when she already has two perfect matches?

Without scent, sure, we could be together. Plenty of couples make it work. But what if that’s not what she wants after her first Alpha wasn’t a scent match? And that turned out fucked up.

And I’d always know it .

I turn to stare at her again, heart thundering against my ribs. That’s when a growl slices through the quiet, low and close enough to twist something cold in my gut.

Sophia startles, but before she can speak again, I’m already moving. I shove her gently behind me, body snapping to attention, instincts taking over.

“What was that?” Her voice is tight, barely more than a breath.

“Coyotes, I think,” I say, scanning the dark tree line. “Or wolves.” My attention catches the shift of movement slinking low in the shadows not too far to our left. Close. Too close.

She presses into my back, her hands gripping the fabric of my shirt like she needs something solid to hold on to. Fuck, I love that. That she trusts me to protect her. That she seeks me out when it counts.

“We need to move. Stay close,” I mutter, bending to grab a thick fallen branch, long as a bat, dense and weighty in my grip. I take her hand with my free one and start toward the house to our right, keeping her tucked into my side, shielding her with my body.

“Shit,” she breathes. “It’s moving again.”

“Yeah,” I say, the branch gripped tightly in my hand. “Stay behind me. Eyes on the guesthouse.”

“Do they usually come this close to the house?”

“Not unless they’re hungry,” I mutter. “Real hungry. ”

Her breath catches. I don’t need to see her face to know she’s scared. I can feel it in the way she clings to me, the way her steps falter.

Two shapes peel out of the shadows. Lean, ragged coyotes, eyes catching the moonlight like glass. Hungry. Starving. Unpredictable.

“Don’t run,” I say low, firm. “Whatever you do, stay behind me.”

She nods, her fingers locking around mine. Her pulse thumps through that one point of contact. Hell, maybe mine is just as fast.

I stop walking and slam the stick hard against the ground. The sound echoes like a gunshot in the stillness. “Back off!” I bark. “Go on!”

They flinch but don’t bolt. Just prowl lower. Closer. Eyes never leaving us.

“Ridge…” she whispers, pressing even tighter against my side now. I feel her body tremble, and something raw, something ancient, rises up inside me. A possessive fury that coils tight in my chest. Mine.

“Almost there,” I grit. Ten more feet. Just ten.

Then the larger one lunges.

“Go!” I bark, shoving Sophia toward the steps. “Get inside, now!”

She stumbles but doesn’t argue, racing up the porch. I hear the door creak as she grabs it.

I pivot, swinging the branch wide in a warning arc just as the animal closes the distance. I don’t want to hurt it. I really don’t. But I won’t let it get near her. I plant my boots and bare my teeth right back at the fucker.

“Not tonight,” I snarl. “Not her.”

The smaller one tries to dart past me. I block it with a hard sweep, slamming the stick into the dirt right in front of its path. The thud vibrates all the way up to my shoulders, but the coyote gets the point.

Both animals hesitate, whining low.

“That’s right,” I growl. “Nothing here for you. Move the fuck on.”

They retreat slowly, shadows slipping back into the tree line. I wait until I can’t see their eyes anymore before I turn.

Sophia’s standing in the doorway, hand clutching the doorknob, chest rising and falling like she just ran a mile. Her eyes meet mine, wide, wild, and then she’s flying down the steps.

Straight into my arms.

I catch her without hesitation. She buries her face in my chest, clinging to me, and I feel the last of the adrenaline burn off like smoke in the air.

“You okay?” I murmur into her hair.

She nods, but her voice wobbles. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

“I wasn’t about to let them get near you.”

“You were…” She pulls back just enough to look at me, her eyes searching mine as I walk us onto the porch. “That was the manliest thing I’ve ever seen. ”

My lips twitch, but I’m still riding the edge of that protective high. I cup her jaw gently. “Are you okay?”

She nods, staring up at me.

I hold her against me like she’s mine.

Because for those few terrifying minutes, she was.

And I’m not sure I ever want to let her go.

I carry her the whole way back into the guesthouse, arms tight around her, like putting her down too soon might invite those coyotes to try again. She doesn’t argue. Just leans into me, her cheek against my chest, warm breath feathering through my shirt.