Page 53 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy (Wild Hearts Ranch #1)

“Like you weren’t picturing the same damn thing,” Walker shoots back.

Truth is, he’s not wrong. I’ve been picturing her here the whole time in one of our shirts, smelling like sex. I can’t stop thinking about her.

We finally get the comfy chair hung at the perfect height—high enough to swing, low enough that she can step in without climbing. It faces the window, angled just right so she gets the mountain view and the best of the afternoon light.

“Try it,” Walker states.

“Why me?”

“You’re the smallest.”

“Fuck you,” I grumble, lowering myself into the chair. But the second it sways under me, I’m grinning. “Okay, yeah… this is nice. Damn nice. Even better than the one in the guesthouse.”

“Get out. That’s Sophia’s spot,” Ridge says, already fussing with throw pillows like he’s nesting himself. I’m chuckling at how intense they’ve become.

By the time we’re done, the whole room has transformed.

The bed is layered with blankets in cream and pale blue, piled with enough pillows to make a fort.

Mini fridge stocked. A few of our shirts tucked into the bedding, not obvious, but enough for her to feel us close.

Books stacked on the nightstand, wildflowers in a vase.

And that hanging chair… already looking like it belongs to her.

I stand back, hands on my hips, and something in my heart squeezes. This isn’t just a room anymore; it’s a promise. A safe place. Her place.

Ridge glances out the window. “She’s on the porch, got boxes there. Looks ready. We’d better go help her, then.”

We step back, surveying our work one more time.

“Think she’ll like it?” Walker asks, and there’s vulnerability in his voice.

“She’ll love it,” I assure him, though my own nerves are jangling.

“Hello?” Sophia’s voice carries up from downstairs. “Little help? I’ve got precious cargo!”

We thunder down the stairs, probably looking way too eager, like kids on Christmas morning. But when we see her standing in the doorway, cradling three ginger cats while only one bag so far sits at her feet, my lips pull into the happiest grin.

“Oh, they’re coming too?” Ridge asks, though his tone is more amused than annoyed.

“Of course! They’re mine now, so they need to move in too. Package deal—take me, take my cats.”

“Welcome, fur babies,” Walker states, already reaching out to pet Chonkarella, who eyes him suspiciously before allowing one chin scratch.

“Well, I guess we can accommodate three cats,” I say, trying to sound put-upon but probably failing completely. “As long as they don’t scratch the leather furniture.”

“They’re perfect angels,” Sophia explains, then whispers to the cats. “Don’t listen to him. Scratch whatever you want.”

We help her upstairs, the cats immediately scattering to explore their new territory. One kitten goes straight under the bed, another jumps on the windowsill, and Chonkarella claims the hanging chair before anyone else can.

“Chonky, that’s my spot!” Sophia protests, but she’s laughing.

Then she really looks around the room for the first time, and her mouth falls open.

“You did this for me?” Her voice is barely a whisper, and I swear she’s tearing up.

She walks slowly into the room, touching everything, running her fingers over the soft blankets, testing the chair’s swing after relocating Chonkarella, opening the mini fridge to laugh at the amount of chocolate inside.

“Just now? In the time it took me to pack?”

“We move fast,” Walker admits with a wink, rubbing the back of his neck.

Her eyes go wide, and her hand flies to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she whispers. “You’re going to make me cry.”

I want her to know exactly how far we’ll go to make her feel safe here.

“This is…” She turns slowly. “This is everything.”

When she reaches the window, the one facing the mountains, she stops dead, palm pressed to the glass. The view of the mountains is spectacular. “It’s perfect,” she murmurs. “No one has ever… I’ve never had anything like this.”

The invisible armor she’s worn since the day she set foot on this ranch, the steel in her spine, the walls around her heart… all of it softens in one tiny, unguarded moment. I hear it in her voice, and it’s beautiful.

My chest pulls tight, like somebody is cinching a rope around it, only this time it’s not from anger—but sheer happiness.

Before Ridge can so much as twitch, I’m already crossing the space and wrapping her up in my arms. She melts against me, soft and warm, and I swear I could stand here all day just breathing her in. “Then you’d better get used to it, sugar,” I whisper into her hair. “This is just the start.”

She tilts her face up to me, and whatever she sees there must be enough, because her lips part, her eyes soften, and she lets me close that last inch.

Her mouth tastes like chocolate cake and tears. Her fingers curl into my shirt, holding me there. I kiss her slowly at first, then deeper, until I’m tasting every little sound she makes, every shiver. I’ve kissed her before, but this… this feels like claiming.

By the time I pull back, she’s breathing like she just ran the ridge trail, cheeks flushed, pupils wide.

“That’s how you say thank you,” I tell her, my thumb brushing over her jaw .

Her laugh is shaky, but it’s real. “Guess I’ll have to thank you all a lot, then.”

“Count on it.”

Ridge steps in, all sharp edges like he’s daring me to stop him.

He spins her to face him and curls a hand into her hair, tilting her head just enough to take her mouth like it’s his by right.

His kiss is rough, deep, the kind that steals the air from the room, and when she fists his shirt in return as well, he makes this low, satisfied growl.

I can see her shiver from where I’m standing. Hell, I can feel my own hands clenching because watching them is its own kind of torture.

When Ridge finally pulls back, her lips are kiss-swollen, her breathing uneven, and Walker is already there.

He slides in with the kind of steady confidence that sneaks up on you, his palm cupping her jaw, thumb brushing over the damp curve of her bottom lip before he leans in.

His mouth meets hers softer than Ridge’s, coaxing instead of taking, but it doesn’t stay that way.

The second she makes that needy little sound in the back of her throat, his arm tightens around her waist as I hold her from behind, and the kiss turns hungry, his body pressing her back just enough that her toes leave the floor for half a breath.

By the time they’re done, she’s flush-faced and unsteady, looking between all three of us like she’s trying to remember how to breathe.

And then her gaze lands back on me, like maybe she already knows I’m not letting her walk away without another taste.

I lean in and steal that kiss that has me captivated. Her lips are soft, her mewls delicious.

She’s breathless, leaning into all three of us now.

One of the kittens launches himself onto the bed and bats at a pillow tassel like it’s his mortal enemy.

“I think he approves,” Sophia says with a watery laugh, scooping him up. She buries her face in his fur for a second, probably so we won’t see the fresh tears in her eyes. “This is way better than the guesthouse, isn’t it, baby?”

“Everything’s better now,” Ridge says, but he’s looking at her, not the cat.

And I get it. I look around at my pack because that’s what we are now—a real pack—and it smacks me square in the gut. I’ve been restless for years, never settling anywhere. But this feels like setting down roots. Like maybe I finally found the place I was meant to land.

“So,” I say, letting a slow grin spread across my face. “You want to really test out that hanging chair? Make sure it’s properly installed?”

She laughs, wiping her cheeks. “Is that all you think about?”

“No,” I say, dead serious. “Sometimes I think about that desk in my office. Very sturdy. Great height. Perfect for?—”

She swats me in the arm, laughing now, cheeks pink, while Ridge and Walker both snort like I’ve just said something saintly instead of filthy.

“What? I’m just saying a girl ought to know her options. Variety is the spice of life.”

“You’re impossible,” she says, but she’s smiling the way she did back at the café—open, lit up from the inside.

“Yeah,” I say, tugging her in as Ridge and Walker press close from either side, surrounding her with warmth and scent and promise. “But I’m yours. We all are.”

“Always,” Ridge murmurs into her hair.

“Forever,” Walker adds against her shoulder.

And standing there in her new room, cats claiming the bed, our Omega in our arms, I know exactly what I’d fight for. What I’d kill for. What I’d die for, if it came to it.

Tomorrow, we’ll deal with Ronan. Tomorrow, we’ll figure out the logistics of keeping her safe through her heat. Tomorrow, we’ll face whatever storm is rolling in.

But today?

Today, we made her a home.

And that’s everything.