Page 54 of Knot my First Rodeo

My face heats so fast I’m glad I’m upside down. “Got it, didn’t I?”

Clint’s hand tightens against my thigh.

Oh.

The door swings open and cool air hits my bare legs, stealing some of the heat from my skin but none of the buzzing under it. Clint carries me down the sidewalk while I continue complaining because I’m not giving him the satisfaction of silence.

“I can walk.”

“I know.”

“Then put me down.”

“No.”

“You’re enjoying this.”

“A little.”

I smack his back again, but a laugh slips out with it this time, and I hate that all three of them hear it.

Tripp falls into step beside us, rubbing his knuckles. “You sure you’re okay?”

My hands still against Clint’s back.

“Yeah,” I say, quieter. “He just surprised me.”

Nobody says anything.

I swallow, then immediately ruin it because silence has never been my friend. “For the record, I had the asshole handled.”

“Noted,” Tripp says.

“I did.”

Clint turns toward the motel lot. “You were about three seconds from climbing him like a raccoon.”

“That’s not true.”

The motel is lit by yellow lamps that buzz above the walkway. By the time we reach my room, my heartbeat has settled some, but my body still feels too awake, too aware of his shoulder under my stomach, his hand braced against my thigh.

Clint stops outside the room and finally lowers me to my feet. I stumble half a step, mostly because I’m dizzy from being upside down, and not because he affects me. Obviously.

His hand catches my elbow until I’m steady. I pull away because I need to. My hair is a mess, my tank is twisted, and my purse is still in Briggs’ hand.

I snatch it from him. “Thank you.”

He looks down at me. “You’re welcome.”

“Don’t sound so smug.”

“Wasn’t trying to.”

“Liar.”

Tripp leans against the railing, shaking out his hand again. His knuckles are already red.

My gaze drops to them and something tightens under my ribs.