Page 27 of Knot my First Rodeo

Eleven

Tripp

The truck settles into a steady rhythm, the trailer pulling smooth behind us. Clint drives just like he does everything else; eyes forward and focused, his hands perfectly at ten and two. Briggs is in the front passenger seat, elbow braced against the window, watching the road.

Which leaves me in the back with her.

Autumn sits by the window, bag at her feet, one hand resting against the glass. She doesn’t say anything at first, just watches everything go by like she’s trying to take it all in before it disappears.

Fields stretch out on either side of the road, open and wide, nothing like where she came from, I’m sure. You can tell by the way her eyes track everything, like she doesn’t trust herself to blink and miss something. I lean back in the seat, arm resting across the top, watching her.

She doesn’t notice, or she does and just doesn’t care.

“First rodeo?” I ask.

Her head turns slightly, not all the way, just enough that I know she heard me. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

“Little bit.”

She huffs, but there’s no real bite to it. “I’ve never been to one, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s what I’m asking.”

She nods once, looking back out the window. “There aren't any rodeos in the city. Hell, I don't think I’ve even seen a farm animal, except in a petting zoo.”

She keeps watching the road, shoulders a little tighter than they were earlier, like she’s holding something back.

Nerves, maybe.

“You nervous?” I ask.

She glances at me this time, eyes narrowing. “Should I be?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“How much you plan on paying attention.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s curiosity under it. “That doesn’t answer the question.”

“It’s not supposed to.”

She shifts in her seat, adjusting her hoodie like it’s bothering her. I notice it now that I’m looking, she’s been doing that a lot. Tugging at it, rolling her shoulders, like she can’t quite get comfortable.

“You’ll be fine,” I say after a second. “It’s just loud, busy, and there are a ton of people… and smells.”

That last part slips out before I think about it.

Her gaze flicks to me again, something sharper there now. “Smells?”

“Animals, dirt, food, sweat. All of it.”

Her eyes narrow just slightly, lips pressing together, then she gives a small nod and looks back out the window.

“Sounds… chaotic.”

“It is.”