Page 39 of Knot my First Rodeo

Clint notices of course.

His gaze flicks between me and where she stands, something sharp passing through his expression before his mouth twitches.

“You planning on going back over there,” he says, “or are you gonna keep staring from a distance like a creep?”

I shoot him a look. “Shut up.”

He grins. “Thought so.”

I drag a hand over the back of my neck, the heat settling there again for a different reason now, and start toward her before I can talk myself out of it.

Each step feels heavier than it should. Not because I’m tired, but because I’m aware.

Of her.

By the time I get close, I’ve got my expression locked back down, shoulders loose, everything back where it should be.

She doesn’t move when I step in beside her. Up close, it’s worse. The flannel she changed into when the sun got high in the sky hangs open, like she didn’t bother fixing it, sleeves pushed up just enough to show her wrists, the tank underneath clinging where the heat’s gotten to her. Her jeans are worn in all the right places, boots planted like she’s not planning on moving for anyone.

It makes her stand out even though she's not trying to.

“You survive?” I ask.

Her head turns toward me, quick, like she didn’t expect me to be this close. Gray eyes flick over me once, fast, taking in the dirt, the sweat, the aftermath.

“Barely,” she says.

My mouth pulls slightly at the corner.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “That seems about right.”

She huffs out a quiet breath, her shoulders dropping just a fraction, but she doesn’t look away.

I like that more than I should.

Tripp shifts in on her other side, close enough that I catch the way her posture adjusts again, just slightly. She’s aware of both of us now.

Good, she should be.

“See?” Tripp says. “Told you it gets easier.”

She shakes her head once. “No, you didn’t.”

“I implied it.”

“That doesn’t count.”

A quiet laugh slips out of me as I lean my forearms against the rail, close enough that her shoulder brushes mine for half a second before she stills.

The contact is light, barely anything. Something hits me then, a faint scent…that’s sweet and sharp.

My brow pulls slightly before I can stop it.

There’s something under the dust, sweat, and everything else hanging in the air. I shift just slightly, not enough to make it obvious, just enough to catch it again when the breeze shifts.

Black cherry and almond.

My jaw tightens.