Page 25 of Knot my First Rodeo

He steps up beside me, close enough that I feel the heat of him through my hoodie, not touching, just there. “Stay to the side,” he says, nodding toward where I’m standing. “They’ll see you better. Less chance of spooking ’em.”

“I’m not scared of a horse.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

He reaches out, running a hand down the horse’s neck, calm and steady. The animal settles like it recognizes him, shifting just slightly.

“They read you,” he adds. “If you’re unsure, they are, too.”

“I’m not unsure,” I say, even though I don’t fully believe it.

He doesn’t argue, just watches.

“Keep your hands where they can see ’em,” he says. “Slow movements. Don’t crowd ’em.”

I nod once and turn back to the horse, adjusting the way I stand. This time, I don’t walk straight up. I stay off to the side, move slower, more deliberate. The horse watches me but doesn’t pull away.

I reach out, hesitating for a second before letting my hand settle against its neck. It shifts under my touch but doesn’t move away.

“That’s it,” Clint says quietly.

Something settles in my chest, and I pull my hand back like it didn’t matter, brushing it on my leggings.

“I had it,” I mutter.

“Sure you did.”

I glance at him. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m gonna mess it up.”

He studies me for a second. “You didn’t.”

That shouldn’t feel like anything, but it does.

We finish loading after that, everything falling into place like it’s been done a hundred times before. The trailer doors slam shut, chains locking in place, Briggs checking them again before stepping back.

“Good.”

Clint nods, Tripp wipes his hands on his jeans, and I grab the last thing sitting by the truck and toss it in without being told. And that’s when it hits me. I’m not standing off to the side anymore, I’m in it.

Not just watching, I’m helping. The thought sits weird in my chest, not bad, just… different.

I lean against the truck for a second, catching my breath, and that’s when I notice it. I’m a little too warm under my hoodie, a little too aware of everything around me, like my body doesn’t want to settle. I shift, rolling my shoulders, trying to ignore it.

“You good?” Tripp asks.

“Yeah,” I say too fast.

He looks at me for a second longer than I like, then nods it off. I’m already turning back toward the house.

“Don’t leave without me,” I call over my shoulder.

“Move faster then,” Tripp shoots back.

I don’t even argue. I take the steps two at a time, heart pumping a little faster than it should, and head straight for my room.