Page 106 of Knot my First Rodeo

She groans. “Not you, too.”

I grin. “Too?”

“All you men think you can read my mind.”

“Maybe you’re just bad at hiding things.”

She bumps her shoulder into mine, and the contact has a shock zinging through my body.

That’s new, and I don’t know what to make of it.

She looks down at her boots for a second when we reach the porch, then meets my eyes.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends.”

“That’s not reassuring.” She flashes a small smile.

“Ask away.”

Her mouth twitches, then she gets a serious look again.

“When my heat ended…” she hesitates. “Were you relieved?”

The question catches me off guard, and my stomach drops that she even has a reason to ask that.

I study her for a second, and watch as a breeze catches a loose strand of hair and pushes it across her face. She doesn’t move. She just stares at me and waits.

“No.” The answer comes easy.

“No?”

I shake my head. “The heat ending wasn’t what I was worried about.”

Something shifts in her expression. “Then what were you worried about?”

I let out a breath, because I’ve spent the last week trying not to say this out loud.

“You leaving.”

The words hang between us as Autumn goes stone still. I shove a hand in my pocket, suddenly feeling a whole lot less smooth than I did seconds ago.

“You got here and everything changed.”

Her lips part slightly, but I keep going before I can talk myself out of it.

“You make the house louder, chores less boring. Hell, you made Briggs grumpy in a completely new way.” I grin when that earns me a laugh. “And I’m done pretending like I don’t know what this is. We’re… or at least me… I’m your scent match.”

The smile fades from her mouth, and panic rushes through me that I just fucked up majorly. That ‘scent match’ isn’t what she was wanting to hear.

“I wasn’t worried about the heat ending,” I say quietly. “I was worried you’d decide none of this mattered once it was over. That you’d still leave.”

For a second, neither of us says anything, then Autumn steps closer and her hand finds mine. I look down at our fingers intertwined, then back at her, and she smiles, slow, warm, and completely unguarded. I realize I’m in a lot more trouble than I thought.

"I'm still here," she says, softer now.

That's all I need. I don't give her time to second-guess. I scoop her up, one arm under her knees, the other around her back, and she gasps, clutching my shoulders.