Page 1 of Knot my First Rodeo

Chapter

One

Clint

I can’t believe it’s spring already, and another whole year has gone by without completing our pack. Another year of just living on the ranch with my cousins, Tripp and Briggs. We’ve always been more like brothers than cousins, so it just made sense for us to form our own pack. But we’re missing the most important piece of our puzzle: an omega.

Five years ago, Tripp, Briggs, and I bought this land and the farmhouse on it. It gave us a place to train, too. Rodeo doesn’t pay steady unless you’re winning, and we ain’t stupid enough to rely on prize money alone. The ranch keeps us fed. The arena keeps us alive.

We’ve been fixing it up in hopes that we would’ve found an omega by now. Instead, we’re in our late twenties, and it’s still just the three of us. It ain’t easy meeting an omega in a small town like Lynn, Montana, especially when most omegas aren’t looking for what we have to offer.

Don’t get me wrong, we’ll spoil the hell out of our omega when we find her, but we also want someone strong enough to work side by side with us on the farm. An omega who wants to immerse herself into our life and the rodeo fully, not some useless bleach-blonde buckle bunny more interested in chasing cowboys and Instagram pictures than building a life.

A whinny snaps me from my thoughts, and I turn my head. Sure enough, Captain’s head is already hanging over the stall door, one blue eye fixed on me. His ears flick forward before he gives an impatient little bob of his head.

“You’re a good boy, Captain.” I toss two flakes of hay in the pen with my gelding and grab the hose to fill his water bucket. As I watch it fill, I make sure everything’s topped off good. Last thing I need is to be running out here in the middle of a thunderstorm trying to deal with spooked horses.

Finished with the horse chores, I head over to the chicken coop to free the flock for a little bit before the storm comes in. Flipping the lock, the door flies open and a small herd of squawking T-Rexes descend upon me. I toss their crumbles on the ground, and they attack it like the ferocious beasts they are. Once they’re distracted, I start collecting the eggs. I glance up at the sky out of habit. Clear now, but that doesn't mean shit this time of year. Storms roll in fast out here.

When my little apron is full of blue, green, and brown eggs, I head inside. I line them carefully in the carton, bits of straw still clinging to a few shells before sliding them into the extra fridge in the mudroom. We wash them when we use them. Keeps them fresh longer.

“You still wearing that fucking thing?” Briggs’ voice comes from behind me.

“Yup. Gonna keep wearing it, too, until Tripp accepts that he didn’t win this one,” I reply, turning to face him.

Tripp bought me that stupid apron for my birthday this year, thinking he was funny as hell. It has little pockets for each egg, and says Mother Clucker across the waistband. Just to spite him and show him that he didn’t pull a fast one on me, I’ve worn that thing every day since.

Briggs rolls his caramel eyes while running a hand through his matching hair. “You two are insufferable. Where is he, anyway?”

“He went to town first thing to get stocked up on feed for the month. That storm system is supposed to roll in, in a few days, and I don’t wanna be stuck up here with starving animals if the roads get washed out or the power goes out. We could feed the little dinos our table scraps, but the horses can’t eat that shit,” I tell him.

“When are you gonna stop referring to the chickens as dinosaurs? We’re damn near thirty years old. Don’t you think it’s time to let it go?”

“Nope.” I cross my tattooed arms in defiance. “You can’t tell me that they don’t look like feathery T-Rexes. They don’t have arms, but their beady little eyes always follow you like you’re their next snack.”

“You’re ridiculous. Are we still good for the auction next week to pick up some calves?”

“Yeah. I can't believe the first big storm of the season is coming in this strong. If it doesn't turn into anything nasty, we should be fine. We don't need anything in particular, but I did wanna get a few calves just to fill the freezer. I wouldn’t mind starting our own herd, but I want Herefords. I don’t care what anyone says about Angus beef. Herefords are easier to handle, and we won’t have to worry about cattle thieves because we’d easily be able to tell which are ours.” I pull my phone from my jeans pocket, and set it on the table so I can check the notifications.

“Well, if we see anything at the auction, we’ll see how things go price-wise and bring home what we can.” Briggs doesn’t get to continue, because the sound of the driveway alarm going off catches our attention.

Parting the blinds, I catch sight of Tripp’s black pickup coming up the drive. “Tripp’s back. We better go out and help him unload that feed, or he’ll bitch the rest of the day.” I head out with Briggs right behind me, and we make our way to the corn crib where we keep the feed.

“‘Bout time you assholes get up and out here to help me,” Tripp yells, getting out of the truck.

“Fuck off. While you were out flirting with the cutie at the feed store, we were doing the chores and making sure we’re ready for the storm.” I grab two bags of horse feed, throw them over my shoulder, and head to put them away.

The only sound is the thud of feed hitting wood. Dust kicks up when I drop another bag, settling on my arms, sticking to the sweat already there.

Tripp grunts behind me, dragging one across the floor instead of lifting it.

Lazy bastard.

I don’t say anything. I just grab another and keep moving. As we finish up, Tripp’s phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket and rolls his eyes as he stares at the screen.

“Who is it?” Briggs asks.

“Hunter,” he replies, quirking a brow at me. “I didn’t even know I still had his number in my phone.”