Page 197 of Knot my First Rodeo

"I hate that you're right," I mumble.

Across the yard, Briggs catches us staring, and suspicion immediately appears on his face.

I wave and he narrows his eyes, which only makes us laugh harder.

A few minutes later, Hunter abandons whatever argument he and Briggs were having, and wanders back toward the smoker while Briggs follows close behind.

Every time Clint opens the smoker, somebody suddenly finds a reason to be nearby. Tripp has already been chased away twice for trying to steal food early, and Acid looks like he's seriously considering helping him on the third attempt.

By the time everything is finally ready, people are practically circling the table like vultures.

The food ends up spread across every available surface, and Clint sends Tripp to the barn to get an extra table.

At some point, Clint gives up trying to organize people and starts handing out plates while muttering about savages under his breath. Nobody listens. Tripp steals a rib, gets smacked in the back of the head for it, and somehow manages to look offended.

I fill my plate and settle into a chair beside Gidge while conversations spring up all around us. It’s nice. This is what I want my life to look like. Nobody is watching each other, waiting for a fight. Nobody is trying to navigate awkward introductions, or figure out where they stand.

They're just… talking.

Hunter and Briggs are still circling each other like two grumpy old men pretending they aren't friends. Across from them, Gears is explaining why motorcycles are superior to horses while Tripp argues with him.

"A horse comes when you call it."

"A motorcycle goes seventy-five miles an hour."

"A horse loves you."

"A motorcycle doesn't take a shit in my driveway."

Tripp opens his mouth and closes it.

"That was a cheap shot." He points at Gears.

"It was an accurate shot."

Acid nearly chokes on his drink, and even Arrow is smiling. I don't think I've seen him smile once since he got here.

The afternoon stretches on like that. Plates get refilled, and we all talk like we’ve not just met, or been apart for a while.

At one point, Hunter ends up talking rodeo stories with Clint, while Briggs and Gears argue over absolutely nothing important. Nearby, Gidge has completely abandoned all attempts at acting like a respectable adult, and is feeding scraps to the barn cats, despite being told repeatedly not to.

One of them climbs into her lap, another onto her shoulder. A third appears from nowhere and steals part of her sandwich.

"I think they're conspiring."

I laugh into my sweet tea.

"They've accepted you."

"I don't know if that's comforting."

"You should be honored."

Gidge narrows her eyes at the cat currently attempting to steal her pickle.

"I'm not losing a fight to livestock."

The cat wins anyway.