Page 57 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy (Wild Hearts Ranch #1)

Walker leans forward, his elbows on his knees.

“If he pulls this off, we keep the ranch. If he doesn’t, we lose it.

All of us. And I’m not just talking about land and barns, Sophia.

This place…” He gestures toward the window, toward the pastures that stretch into the horizon.

“It’s our history. Our blood is in that soil.

Ev ery fence post, every hoofprint, every laugh we’ve had here—it’s part of us. Rose made it that way.”

Cash nods. “We could go start over somewhere else. Find another ranch, rebuild. But why the hell should we let that snot-faced bastard kick us out of the place Rose spent her life building? She wanted this in the hands of people who loved it, people who would protect it. That was her wish, and Ronan is spitting on it.”

My throat tightens.

“It’s Rose’s legacy. And we’ll be damned if we let anyone take it without a hell of a fight.”

“I’ll contact the arena management today,” Ridge says. “Lock down a date.”

“I’ll reach out to our business contacts,” Walker adds. “Every ranch that’s bought horses from us, every supplier we’ve worked with.”

“Media blitz,” Cash says. “Local news, sports channels, documentary crews if we can get them. And we need to start your training. I’ll bring out the mechanical bull you used to practice on.”

They’re all talking at once now, planning and strategizing, and I’m swept along in their determination.

“We’re really doing this?” I ask, glancing between them. My voice wavers, my stomach churning. It feels like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, watching them get ready to jump.

“We don’t have a choice,” Walker says, then softens, leaning forward just enough for his eyes to catch mine. “But we’re in it together, right?”

I laugh and cry at the same time, overwhelmed, my emotions tangling. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. Ridge, God, if anything happens to you?—”

“Nothing will happen,” he says firmly, holding my gaze like it’s an anchor. “I promise I’ll train. I’ll do my absolute best. But I don’t see another option that brings in this much money this fast.”

“Eight seconds,” I whisper, my throat tight.

“Eight seconds to save our home,” he confirms, and there’s a glint in his eyes, a tiny quiver of his chin, a grin on his lips.

“We’ll need a marketing campaign. Posters, social media, the works. That’s your forte, right, sugar?” Cash says, leaning forward with a spark that has nothing to do with the crisis and everything to do with the thrill of a challenge.

“I can design those,” I answer automatically, my mind already flicking through layouts, headlines, taglines, anything to keep my hands busy and my thoughts from spiraling into fear.

“Merchandise,” Walker adds, his voice sharpening with focus. “T-shirts, hats. ‘Save Wild Hearts Ranch,’ branded everything.”

“Or ‘Save a Bull and Ride a Cowboy,’?” I joke, and all three of them freeze for a second before exchanging a look that’s equal parts heat and wicked amusement.

“Careful, sugar,” Cash drawls, his grin slow and full of trouble. “We could print that and make you wear the shirt.” He winks sexily.

“?‘Eight Seconds Isn’t Enough,’?” Walker suggests, his tone deadpan but his eyes glinting with challenge.

Ridge chuckles, shaking his head. “?‘Cowboy Up or Go Home.’?”

“?‘Ride Hard, Hold Tight,’?” Cash adds, shooting me a sly glance.

“This could actually work,” I breathe, the first small flicker of hope lighting in my chest. It’s fragile, but it’s there.

“It has to work,” Walker says, shoulders squared, appearing proud.

And as I look at my three cowboys, my Alphas, I realize the shift that’s happening.

The fear is still there, coiled tight in my stomach, but it’s being met with something else.

Their energy is contagious, pulling me into their orbit.

They’re already seeing the arena lights, hearing the crowd, smelling the dust and leather.

We sit there for a moment, the four of us tangled together on the couch, processing the enormity of what we’ve just decided. The cats wander downstairs, oblivious to the life-changing gamble about to unfold, and one of the kittens jumps into Ridge’s lap, purring like it’s any other morning.

“?‘?Ridge’s Last Ride,’?” Walker says suddenly, the words landing heavily in the room. “That’s what we call it.”

“Morbid,” I protest, my nerves flaring again.

“Dramatic,” he counters. “Sells tickets.”

“Fine, but I’m adding a subtitle,” I say, forcing my mind into the part I can control. “?‘Eight Seconds to Save Everything.’?”

“Perfect,” Ridge answers, standing and pulling me up with him. His grip is warm, solid. “Now, let’s go save our home.”

And despite the ache in my chest, I start to believe him. Ronan thinks he’s won, thinks he’s backed us into a corner we can’t escape.

He’s wrong.

We’re going to save this ranch. Ridge is going to ride again. And I’m going to document every second of it for the world to see.

“Hey,” I say suddenly. “What about Brutus? He’s loose again. Nearly gored the lawyers’ SUV.”

They all exchange glances.

“Good,” Cash says simply. “Hope he got them on the way out.”

“We should probably—” Walker starts.

“Later,” Ridge interrupts. “Let him have his fun for a few more minutes.”

And despite everything, the debt, the fear, the impossible task ahead, we all laugh. Because that’s what we do. We face the stampede together, and we find a way to run faster.

Four weeks. Half a million dollars. One ride.

We can do this.

We have to .

C onfessions of a City Omega

When the Universe Decides You’ve Had Enough Happiness

Dearest Diary,

Remember yesterday when I was floating on cloud nine? When I thought I’d finally figured this whole life thing out?

Yeah, well.

The universe just called to inform me that my subscription to happiness has expired, and no, I cannot renew at this time. Would I like to sign up for the Suffering Plus package instead? It comes with bonus anxiety and a free side of financial ruin!

Just when I thought my life was finally coming together, that the shit was behind me, and I could move on, start fresh with my three scent matches who actually want me around, the universe pulled the ultimate “SYKE!”

Here’s what happened in bullet points because if I write it in paragraphs, I’ll cry:

Someone from ex-Alpha’s past has orchestrated revenge

Said revenge involves three million dollars I don’t have

If I don’t find it in four weeks, I lose everything

Including the ranch that was supposed to be my fresh start

And the home my Alphas just made perfect for me

Three. Million. Dollars.

That’s the price tag on my happiness, apparently.

For context, I’m still paying off a rental car that got destroyed by a bull. Three million might as well be three billion.

But here’s the thing:

My Alphas aren’t giving up.

And neither am I.

We’re planning something huge. Something that might just save everything. I can’t share all the details yet (still working them out while trying not to hyperventilate), but I’m going to need you. All of you. Every single reader who’s been following this disaster of a journey.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that sometimes the family you choose, including the virtual one reading your chaos online, is stronger than the assholes trying to tear you down.

So stay tuned. Share this blog. Tell your friends about the Omega who’s about to fight back against the universe’s bullshit.

We’re going to need:

Donations (every dollar counts)

Word of mouth (tell EVERYONE)

Good vibes/prayers/whatever cosmic juice you believe in

Maybe someone who knows a billionaire with a heart of gold?

Details coming soon. Like, really soon. Like, we-only-have-four-weeks soon.

Tonight’s Omega Wisdom: Happiness comes with terms and conditions. Fine print. Hidden clauses that activate just when you think you’re safe. But you know what?

Fuck the fine print.

We’re rewriting the contract.

The person who orchestrated this thinks he’s won. He’s probably sleeping soundly tonight, dreaming of our failure.

But he forgot one thing. I’ve got three Alpha cowboys who’d ride through hell for me. And apparently, one of them is about to ride something almost as dangerous.

(More on that terrifying development later. I need wine first. Or whiskey. Or both.)

Meanwhile, I’m here trying not to let them see how scared I am. Trying to be strong when all I want to do is curl up in that hanging chair they installed for me and pretend none of this is happening.

But that’s not how life works, is it?

You don’t get to opt out of the hard parts .

You don’t get to skip to the happy ending.

Sometimes you just have to saddle up and ride the damn bull.

Even if it might kill you.

(God, I really hope that’s just a metaphor.)

City Omega out. (Still fighting. Still terrified. Still asking the universe, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?)

PS: If any of you know how to organize a massive fundraising event in four weeks, slide into my DMs. I’ll trade you homemade cookies and eternal gratitude.

PPS: Or if you just want to donate to the “Save Sophia’s Sanity and Also Her Ranch” fund, that works too.

PPPS: Seriously, though, we’re going to pull off something incredible. Stay tuned. It’s about to get WILD at Wild Hearts Ranch.