Page 42 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy (Wild Hearts Ranch #1)

WALKER

T he morning sun streams through the dining room windows, painting golden rectangles across the hardwood floor.

I’m nursing my second cup of coffee, appreciating the rare quiet moment.

Ridge sits across from me, absorbed in the local paper, occasionally making disgusted noises at whatever political nonsense they’re reporting today.

That peace shatters when Cash crashes through the door with all the subtlety of a spooked mustang.

“Christ, did you read Sophia’s latest blog?” He’s practically vibrating, phone clutched in his hand.

Ridge doesn’t even glance up from his paper. Just rolls his eyes hard enough to strain something. “You enjoying your daily dose of Omega gossip?”

“You’d be surprised what you can learn between the lines,” Cash shoots back, then swings his attention to me. “Walker, back me up here. ”

I lean back in my chair, taking another slow sip of coffee. “Maybe back off on the cyberstalking of our scent-matched Omega.”

Cash grins wickedly. “You hearing yourself? As her scent matches, we should be hunting her down, making her live with us, in our bed. But sure, let’s keep giving her space while you pine from a distance. And worse yet, the rest of us have to suffer the same.”

“Nobody’s pining,” I say, though the memory of last night’s kiss is burned into my brain. The way she melted against me, the little sound she made when I pulled her closer…

“Right,” Cash draws out the word. “That’s why you spent twenty minutes arranging wildflowers in that mason jar last night for dinner.”

“Those were already there.”

“You measured the stems with a ruler.”

Ridge finally sets down his paper, staring at me.

Cash barks out a laugh. “Well, you’re gonna want to read this one. It’s about us. Directly.”

“Bullshit,” Ridge mutters, but there’s definite interest flickering in those eyes now.

“Scout’s honor.” Cash holds up his phone. “The title? ‘Does Size Really Matter?’?”

The dining room goes dead silent. My coffee mug freezes at my lips. Ridge’s hand stops halfway to his water glass.

“You’re making that up,” I say, already reaching for my phone. No way she’d write something that bold .

“Read it and weep, gentlemen.” Cash’s grin could light up half of Texas.

We pull out our phones simultaneously. The only sounds are screens tapping and Ridge’s sharp intake of breath. I scan through Sophia’s latest post, trying to keep my expression neutral even as heat crawls up my neck.

I’ve been blessed (cursed?) with three specimens of prime Alpha real estate. And while they’re all impressive in their own ways, one of them is packing some SERIOUS heat. Like, how-do-you-find-pants-that-fit level of impressive.

Jesus. She’s been checking us out. Really checking us out.

The thing is, they each bring something different to the table (or bed, hypothetically speaking).

One has technique that could probably make me come from kissing alone.

Another has stamina that suggests he’d keep going until I begged for mercy.

And the third? Well, let’s just say he’s got the equipment to reach places I didn’t know existed.

My jeans suddenly feel too tight. The memory of her pressed against me last night, the way she sighed into my mouth, the heat of her body… Fuck.

“She’s fucking with us,” I manage.

“Or,” Cash drawls, pushing off from the wall. “Maybe you and Ridge have already gone far enough with our little Omega that she’s gotten herself a real good look at your weaponry.”

Ridge chokes on air. “Did you just?— ”

“What? We’re all thinking it.” Cash starts pacing, energy crackling off him. “Tell me you haven’t thought about showing her exactly what you’re working with.”

“Every damn day,” I admit, because what’s the point in lying?

“Look, all I’m saying,” Cash continues, “is that she paid very close attention to us and came to the obvious conclusion that I am the Alpha she’s been dreaming about.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re delusional,” I tell him, though I’m already rereading the blog post. That line about “stamina that suggests he’d keep going until I begged for mercy” has my chest puffing up. That’s gotta be about me. Has to be.

“The real question is,” Ridge says, “which one of us has the equipment to reach places she didn’t know existed?”

We all go quiet.

“I mean, she did stare when I was chopping wood the other day,” I offer. “Watched for a solid ten minutes.”

“She was reading on the porch,” Ridge counters. “You just happened to be in her line of sight.”

“Shirtless. Sweating. Flexing with every swing.”

“That’s called manual labor, not a strip show.”

Cash laughs. “Meanwhile, she actually asked me about my belt buckle collection. Wanted to know all about my biggest trophy.”

“I doubt that,” I say .

Cash’s eyes gleam. “She asked if I had anything else that impressive to show her.”

“She did not,” Ridge adds.

“She might as well have. The way she was looking at me…”

We’re all talking over each other now, voices rising as each of us stakes our claim on Sophia’s supposed interest. Three grown men, successful Alphas, reduced to bickering like teenagers over a blog post.

“There’s only one way to settle this,” Cash announces suddenly.

He starts unbuckling his belt with purpose.

“Whoa, what the hell are you doing?” Ridge demands.

“Getting proof.” Cash’s fingers keeps working on his buckle. “She put it in a public forum. Half this gossip-driven town is probably reading it right now, placing bets. We need to set the record straight.”

“By doing what exactly?” I ask, though watching him, it’s pretty damn obvious where this is heading.

“Measuring. Right here, right now. Winner takes bragging rights.”

“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever suggested,” Ridge says flatly. “And you once tried to train a raccoon to fetch beer.”

“That almost worked.” Cash’s belt is fully undone now. “Come on, boys. Unless you’re scared she got it wrong? Scared you’re not the one packing the heat she’s talking about? ”

“I ain’t scared,” Ridge mutters, but damn if he isn’t standing up too.

“This is insane,” I state, but I’m already on my feet because if these two idiots are doing this, someone needs to witness it. For… documentation purposes. “We’re grown men. Ranch managers. We have employees who could walk in.”

“Ground rules,” Ridge says, all business now. “Are we talking about fully ready for action or just everyday carry?”

“Either way works for me,” Cash grins. “I’m impressive in all states.”

“Christ Almighty,” I mutter, but my competitive side is kicking in. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. No exaggerating, no creative measuring angles.”

“Agreed.” Cash is already heading for the hallway. “Let me grab that measuring tape from the toolbox.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Ridge mutters, but his hands are on his belt buckle.

“You know what?” I find myself saying. “Sure. Let’s settle this. Because I’m tired of you two strutting around here acting like God’s gift to Omegas when we all know who she was really writing about.”

“You?” Cash scoffs. “Mr. Slow and Steady? She wants passion, not a relationship counselor.”

“Better than whatever the hell you think you’re offering,” I shoot back. “Stalking her blog isn’t foreplay, Cash. ”

“At least I’m showing interest instead of brooding in corners like Ridge here.”

Ridge snorts a laugh.

Cash vanishes down the hall and returns, measuring tape held high. “Gentlemen, prepare to be humbled.”

“Hold up,” I say. “Are we seriously about to whip our dicks out in the dining room?”

“You got a better location?” Cash asks.

“Literally anywhere else?”

“Kitchen’s too risky. Living room has too many windows. My bedroom’s too far and might give the wrong impression.”

“As opposed to the right impression of three Alphas comparing cock sizes in the dining room?” Ridge asks incredulously.

“When you put it that way, it sounds weird,” Cash admits.

“It is weird,” I point out.

“But we’re still doing it,” Ridge says, and it’s not a question.

“Hell yeah, we are,” Cash confirms.

That’s when a soft creak comes from the hallway. We all freeze, heads whipping toward the open doorway.

Sophia stands there, hands in the pockets of her denim shorts, smirking so wide her face might split. Her red hair is pulled up in a messy bun with tendrils framing her face, and she looks absolutely delicious .

More importantly, she looks like she’s been standing there for a while.

“Don’t let me interrupt. Please, continue with your… measurement party.” Her voice drips with amusement.

Cash still has the measuring tape extended. Ridge’s hands are frozen on his belt buckle. I’m pretty sure my face is red enough to brand cattle.

She bursts out laughing. Not a polite giggle or a shocked gasp. Full-bodied, bent-over, tears-streaming-down-her-face laughter. She has to grab the doorframe to stay upright, and the sound fills the room, warm and rich and completely uninhibited.

“I KNEW IT!” she gasps between breaths. “Oh my God, you actually… you were going to—” She dissolves into giggles again, one hand pressed to her stomach.

“How long have you been standing there?” Cash demands, his face matching mine in color.

“Long enough to witness the Great Dick Duel of Wild Hearts Ranch,” Sophia says. “I know you’ve been reading my blog.”

Ridge freezes. Cash pauses mid-step. I don’t move. I just watch her, waiting to see how she plays it.

Sophia stands in the doorway like she owns the damn room, eyes sharp, lips twitching, fire in her posture.

“Don’t blame me,” she says sweetly. “Blame your fragile egos. You read my recent blog posts and then, over dinner, tried to bait me with those not-so- subtle questions about how I’ve been sleeping, waking up, dreaming… ”

I grin because of course she knew what we were doing. Hard not to, after she wrote about waking up mid-orgasm from dreams about us.