Page 8 of Knot my First Rodeo

“No, she's old enough to not need a babysitter. If she doesn't come down, she doesn't eat. Simple as that,” a deeper voice replies.

“Yeah, but she’s in a new place and might be scared. We should try to make her feel welcome and not so awkward,” the first voice volleys back.

“Hunter said she’s mouthy, so if she feels scared or nervous, I’m sure she’ll tell us.”

“I don’t know. She didn’t even meet us before she tucked herself away in that room,” the softer voice speaks again.

“Well, not like that’s her fault. When I let them in, you two just up and disappeared,” Tripp pipes in.

“We didn’t want to overwhelm her.”

“Maybe you should have asked if I was overwhelmed, or scared and nervous before making assumptions. You know what they say about assuming; it makes an ass out of you and me.” I step into the kitchen and all their eyes snap at me.

Holy sex gods. They look as if Lee Brice and Tim McGraw had babies. Thank goodness for scent-blocking panties, because I can feel my slick already. All three of them are tall and muscular as hell. That must be a farm thing because seriously, they all have arms the size of my head. Also, who knew ball caps were my thing? I didn’t, but hot damn, I don’t think I ever want to see a man without a hat on again.

“Eavesdropping, Omega?” the biggest one with light brown hair asks.

I clench my thighs together when he calls me omega. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. I’m hungry, and since this is the kitchen, I figured there’d be food. How was I to know you’d be having a kumbaya about me?”

“Don’t mind him. He’s always grouchy,” the alpha from the picture I saw while snooping, smirks. “I’m Clint. You already met Tripp, and that cranky ass is Briggs. Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you. I’m starving. What are we eating for dinner?” I ask, trying my best to not let them see that they’re affecting me in any way. Not only do I have no desire for them to know they’re turning me on, but I also don't want them to know how nervous I am.

“Was thinking about making some burgers. You like burgers?” Briggs asks.

“Yeah, can we put cheese on them? And do you have any other toppings? I can get them out and set the table,” I tell them, wanting to seem helpful.

“Sure. Check the fridge and get out whatever you think will be good. How do you want it cooked? Well done?”

“Medium-rare.” I open the fridge and pull out ketchup, mustard, lettuce, and onion.

“Well, I’ll be damned. A lady who likes her meat the right way,” Clint chuckles.

“My brother refused to cook meat anything past that, so that's all I know,” I tell them, while opening drawers to find a knife and cutting board.

“You always cook like this?” I ask, watching him flip the burger.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re feeding a small army.” I start to cut the veggies

He huffs, not looking at me. “Three grown men. Close enough.”

I snort and reach for the brick of cheese. “Fair.”

When I’m done, I set the table and take a seat, waiting for the burgers to be ready.

Briggs drops a patty on my bun, and I jazz it up how I like, and wait for them all to sit and fill their plates. When everyone has sat down, I pick up my cheeseburger and take a bite, moaning as the meat and cheese explodes across my tongue.

“Fuck, that’s good,” I murmur around a mouthful of burger.

“We gotta finish loading the trailer,” Clint says between bites. “If we leave too late Friday, we won’t make check-in.”

I barely glance up. “Cool.”

Chapter

Six