Page 38 of Bull Riders Don't Swoon

“What do you take in your coffee? Have a seat, and I’ll bring it out.”

“Oh…milk or creamer is fine. No sugar.”

With a nod, he disappears inside, and I ease into a wooden rocker on the porch. It’s soLittle House on the Prairiethat I can’t help but smile. A few chickens scratch around off to the other side of the house and the bray of a donkey sounds from the barn.

Alec returns and passes me a mug before settling on the other rocker next to me.

“You have a great place here.”

“Thanks. I love it.”

Sipping my coffee, I gather my thoughts and wonder what it is I should say to this stranger. His presence and offer to listen are comforting. Unbiased opinions are hard to find, and I think it’s what I need right now.

“I came here with my best friend for a brief vacation. We’ve never visited much of Ontario, and we were at the bull-riding event in Manitoba. I figured we were close enough to take some time off and visit at least Northwestern Ontario.”

“You’re a bull rider? Cool. I used to rope. I loved rodeo…until one day I just didn’t anymore.”

“Wait.Alec, right? You’re the one that used to team rope with Hunter?”

He smiles and nods. “That’s me. That was a long time ago. You’re from Kissing Ridge then. How is he?”

“Semi-retired. He and Jackson are both cutting back. Jackson has a new boyfriend and Hunter is…I guess just going with the flow.”

Alec sits back, rocking in his chair and sipping coffee like there’s nothing better in the world to do and I kind of envy his calm.

“My best friend kissed me last night.” My cheeks burn at my sudden blurt of sensitive information.

Alec pauses his rocking for a moment. “Oh?”

“I know you don’t know me, and it’s a lot to spill on you, but I knew I cared about him before he kissed me. Like, it was more than an I-love-you-as-a-friend type thing, but not quite an I’m-in-love-with-you type thing, if that makes sense?” I don’t even know if it makes sense to me right now, but it’s the best I can do to describe this odd feeling that hasn’t left since the hospital. “And he’s got some heavy shit he’s carrying and has been for a long time.I feel like the worst friend for not calling him out on it sooner. Now we’ve kissed and I’m sleeping with him in my arms, and it feels like it’s all so right, but…”

I take a sip of the incredible coffee before heaving a breath.

“You’re afraid you’ll fuck it up because you don’t know what you’re doing and losing his friendship would devastate you?”

Blinking, I turn to stare at Alec. “Um, yeah. Mostly.”

“I don’t have advice except to be patient and let him work through his issues. Stand beside him while he does. Support him like it sounds like you always have, and if you’re truly in love with him…it will work out. It’s not all smooth rides. He’ll probably push you away, and that hurts, but recognize it’s only him protecting himself. He’s just as afraid as you.”

“For someone who doesn’t have any advice, that’s a lot of advice.”

Alec tips his head to acknowledge that and continues. “Life experience comes in many forms. I’ve stood beside people and still lost, but I’ve also remained patient and won. I wish I could tell you it all comes up roses, Jamieson, but it might not. Just hold on like it’s the ride of your life at rodeo finals and hope you land on your feet.”

My lips tilt in a smile at the words that sound so similar to Griff’s.

“Is this one of thoseit-builds-charactersituations?”

Alec lifts a shoulder. “Something like that.” He stands and reaches for my mug. “I’ll fill two for you. Go back and talk with him over coffee.”

After setting the coffee mugs down so I could open the door without spilling or scaring Griff awake, I set them on the kitchen counter before peaking over to see if he’s moved.

His good arm is over his eyes, and his cast arm sits to the side. The covers have slid down, displaying his naked chest and the V-line of his pelvis. I’ve never paid attention to that part of him, but now that I have a moment to appreciate it, I do. Griff is as fit as he has to be, but not overly muscled. His shoulders are bulkier than his pecs, and he has a sandy blond dusting of hair on his chest leading to his groin.

I’m not sure I’ve been with enough men to say I have a type, but I like what I see now.

“Are you staring at me?” he rasps, breaking me out of my creeper mode and I lick my suddenly parched lips.

“Just appreciating the view, baby.”

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