Page 67 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy (Wild Hearts Ranch #1)

SOPHIA

Night Before

T he ranch house is unusually quiet for eleven at night. No music from Cash’s room, no sound of Walker’s late-night cooking experiments. Even the cats have settled early, with Chonkarella curled on the bed with her kittens. But I can’t sleep. Tomorrow Ridge rides, and my nerves are frayed.

I pad through the dark house in one of Walker’s shirts and sleep shorts, checking rooms. Cash is passed out, fully clothed, on the couch, still wearing his boots. He’d been setting up at the arena until past ten. Walker crashed on our bed, already sleeping.

But Ridge is nowhere to be found.

I know where he’ll be.

The night air is cooler than expected as I step onto the back porch, cicadas creating their symphony in the darkness. There’s no moon tonight, just stars scattered across the sky like spilled sugar. I grab the blanket off the porch swing and head toward the old oak tree.

Ridge is there, of course. Sitting on the massive stump. His silhouette is unmistakable with broad shoulders hunched forward, elbows on knees, hat tipped back. The bottle of whiskey beside him catches starlight.

I approach quietly, bare feet careful on the rough ground, but he knows I’m coming. Ridge always knows where I am, like there’s an invisible thread between us.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” he asks.

“Bed’s too big without all of you in it,” I say, settling beside him without asking permission.

He hands me the bottle of Maker’s Mark, and I take a sip, immediately grimacing as it burns down my throat.

“Still can’t handle whiskey, city girl?” There’s a ghost of his usual teasing in his voice.

“Still can’t understand why anyone drinks liquid fire voluntarily.” I hand it back, watching him take a longer pull. “How long have you been out here?”

“Hour. Maybe two.” He stares at the horizon where tomorrow the sun will rise on the day that changes everything. “Couldn’t stop thinking.”

“About?”

“Everything. Nothing.” He rolls the bottle between his palms. “You ever play out every possible scenario of something until you’ve convinced yourself they’re all disasters?”

“Only every night since we started this fundraiser.”

“I keep seeing it,” he admits quietly. “The moment I can’t hold on. The moment I fall. The moment I fail all of you.”

“Ridge—”

“We’re so close, Sophia. Four hundred thousand as of tonight. I know the donation is what counts, but what if I fail again, fall off in front of everyone coming to support us?”

“They’re not paying for a show,” I interrupt, putting my hand over his. His skin is cold despite the warm night. “They’re paying to support us. To save the ranch. To stick it to developers and banks and assholes like Ronan.”

“They’re paying to see Ridge Colter ride again.” His tone turns bitter. “The comeback kid. The fallen champion rising from the ashes.”

“So?”

He looks at me then, really looks at me, and I can see the fear he’s been hiding. “What if I’m not him anymore? What if that Ridge died in that arena three years ago?”

“Then the Ridge sitting next to me is enough,” I say firmly.

“The one who’s spent every day for weeks training until he could barely walk.

The one who comforted me through my heat and protected me from Ronan.

The one who stays up fixing fences and managing horses and keeps this ranch running.

That Ridge doesn’t need eight seconds on a bull to prove his worth. ”

“The bank doesn’t care about that Ridge.”

“Fuck the bank.” I take the bottle, managing a longer sip this time. “You know what I see when I look at you?”

“A washed-up cowboy drinking alone in the dark?” he says.

“A man who was willing to risk everything for his family. Who didn’t hesitate when we needed a solution. Who literally put his body on the line for the people he loves.” I turn to face him fully. “You already saved us, Ridge. Just by being willing to try.”

His jaw works, that muscle ticking that means he’s fighting emotion. “What if my hip gives out? It’s been screaming for three days.”

“Then it gives out.”

“What if I freeze? What if I get up there and can’t?—”

I stop his words by kissing him. It’s soft at first, just pressure and promise, but then he makes this broken sound and pulls me closer. He tastes like whiskey and fear, his hands tangling in my hair with desperate need.

“You won’t freeze,” I whisper against his lips. “You’re Ridge fucking Colter. You’re going to climb on that bull tomorrow, and for eight seconds, you’re going to remind everyone why you’re a champion. And then you’re going to come home to us, whole and victorious.”

“You sound very sure.”

“I am sure. Because I know you. Because I’ve watched you fight through pain every single day. Because you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, and I don’t mean physically.”

He kisses me again, deeper this time, like he’s trying to draw certainty from my mouth. When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard.

“I fucking love you,” he says quietly. “However tomorrow goes, I need you to know that. I love you more than I thought possible.”

“I love you too. We all do.”

As if on cue, we hear footsteps approaching. Two sets, one heavier than the other. Cash and Walker materialize from the darkness, both in sweats and T-shirts, looking rumpled from sleep.

“Thought we’d find you here,” Walker says, settling on Ridge’s other side.

“Can’t have a pity party without us,” Cash adds, dropping to sit on the ground, leaning back against my legs. “Pass the whiskey.”

Ridge hands him the bottle. “Who says this is a pity party?”

“The brooding alone in the dark gave it away.” Cash takes a swig. “Very dramatic. Very on-brand for you.”

“Fuck that,” Ridge teases .

“You’re definitely brooding,” Walker adds, accepting the bottle from Cash.

“You two are assholes,” Ridge says, but there’s warmth in his tone.

We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, passing the bottle around. The cicadas continue their chorus, and somewhere in the distance, one of the horses nickers.

The bottle makes another round, and I notice it’s getting low. We’ve been out here longer than I realized, the temperature dropping enough that I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders.

The stars wheel overhead, and gradually, I feel the shift in energy. The fear is still there, but it’s tempered now by determination. By love. By the understanding that win or lose, we’re in this together.

“We should sleep,” Ridge finally says when the bottle is empty and Cash is yawning every thirty seconds.

We stand, joints protesting from sitting on hard wood. “Whatever happens tomorrow—” Ridge starts.

“Is going to be great,” I interrupt. “Because we’re together. Because we fought for this. Because Rose would be proud.”

Inside, we gravitate toward the master bedroom without discussion. The two king beds pushed together are ridiculous but perfect for us. I crawl into the middle, immediately surrounded by warm Alpha bodies .

Ridge curls around me from behind. Walker’s hand finds mine in the darkness, squeezing once. Cash is in front of me, his back to me, and I embrace him, snuggling my face against his neck.

“We’re going to be okay,” Ridge whispers.

“We’re going to be more than okay,” I whisper back. “We’re going to be legendary.”