Page 28 of Knot my First Rodeo

She’s still looking out the window, and I catch the way her fingers press a little harder against the glass.

“You said there are different events,” she says after a minute, glancing over at me. “How do you even know if you win?”

I shift in the seat, stretching my legs out a little more. “Time, mostly. The fastest run takes it.”

She nods slowly, turning that over. “So, it’s not just… you do it and hope someone tells you that you did good.”

“Nah,” I say. “There’s a scoreboard, timers, judges watching everything. You mess up, they catch it.”

She exhales through her nose, shoulders loosening just a fraction. “So there’s a lot of people doing the same thing?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Plenty of guys show up. Some better than us, some not.”

She glances toward the front, then back out the window again. “So you’re competing against all of them.”

“That’s kinda the point,” Clint says from the front without looking back, like he’s been listening the whole time.

She nods again, quieter this time, like she’s actually picturing it now instead of just reacting.

“What about the other stuff?” she asks. “There’s more than just what you three do, right?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Bull riding, barrel racing, team roping. Whole lineup depending on the rodeo.”

She shifts in her seat, pulling her hoodie away from her neck again. “So it’s just… constant?”

“Pretty much. One event rolls into the next.”

“That’s a lot,” she mutters.

“It is.”

She doesn’t sound overwhelmed, though. If anything, she sounds… into it. I watch her for a second longer than I should, taking in the way her eyes move, the way she processes things. Just… taking it in.

“You’re not scared,” I state before I can stop myself.

She looks at me like that’s a stupid question. “Of what?”

“All of it.”

She glances back out the window, considering it. “Should I be?”

“Most omegas are.”

“I’m not most omegas.”

“No,” I say, a little quieter than before. “You’re not.”

Something shifts in the air after that.

She adjusts in her seat again, pulling her hoodie away from her neck this time, like she needs more space.

“You hot?” I ask.

“It’s warm,” she responds quickly.

“It’s Montana.”

She gives me a look. “I’m fine.”