Page 64 of Bull Riders Don't Swoon

“I really thought I could do a few more. Guess not.”

Hunter lifts his eyebrow in that way that calls my bullshit, and I roll off the weight bench, feeling like a bowl of Jell-O.

“How did the day go yesterday? Griff was pretty vague when he texted me.” Jackson tosses me a towel, and I roll into a sitting position. Hunter leans against the wall after replacing our weights and chugs Gatorade like it’s his job while scrolling on his phone.

“It went very well. His dad is here now at White Oaks.”

Griff had shared with Jackson about his dad a few days ago and finally our little group understands everything Griff has been going through. It stung a little less when I learned he kept it from everyone and not just me.

“That’s great. He must be relieved.” Jackson leans next to Hunter on the wall and bumps his shoulder. “Why do you keep checking your phone so much? Are you going to share what’s going on with you soon?”

Hunter huffs in exasperation and shoots Jackson a withering look.

“We aren’t all like you, living in a delightful land of love and rainbows.”

Jackson frowns, and I don’t like the tone Hunter is using with his closest friend and the nicest man I know.

“Hey. That’s uncalled for, and you know it. We’re not against you here and Jackson would literally give you the shirt off his back anytime and anywhere, so maybe don’t be such an asshole.”

Hunter mutters an apology, but Jackson just…explodes.

“You know what? Just once in your life, look at the people around you. We’re your friends, Hunter. I speak for all of us because I’ve never felt more sure of anything, but we’re here for you. We will stand beside you, behind you, or fucking hold you up. Whatever help you need, we can give it if you’d just let us in!”

I’ve never heard Jackson angry. Well, once, when he dropped a dish of hummus because of me bumping into him, but that was more sadness at not having hummus. This is new, though, and it feels like they’ve been arguing before about something I’m not aware of.

“Do you have a hundred thousand dollars you can loan me to keep my home? Because that’s what I need, Jack.” Hunter’s face flames red with anger, and Jackson’s mouth drops open.

“What? How? Is there —”

“Oh, I’ll tell you.” Hunter swallows hard before sagging against the wall and sliding to the floor. Jackson immediately sits beside him and presses his shoulder against him.

“I still meant what I said. Let’s work this out somehow.” Jackson’s voice is soothing, but I’m not sure how we can help financially. I know Griff is using most of his savings to pay for therehab he took his dad to. I have some saved, but not nearly enough to even put a dent in what Hunter needs.

“When my grandfather died, he left everything in trusts. He controlled it all, even after he died.” Hunter’s lips twist in a sneer. “Even dead, he’s still messing with my life, and I can’t access the money to pay the property taxes. The bank said no to refinancing since the property is in a trust, and I’ve maxed all my credit trying to keep the remaining horses and bulls fed and cared for.”

“Riley’s friend, Gabe, is a lawyer. Maybe there’s a loophole or something? He could look at the documents if you’d like.”

Hunter thuds his head against the wall with a sigh. “I don’t want to lose the ranch. As horrible as it was growing up there, it’s all I know. It’s who I am.”

The three of us sit silently until Hunter pushes up off the floor.

“You said something about The Thirsty Cow? Why don’t we get cleaned up and head over there? I could really go for a massive piece of cheesecake right now.”

I’m definitely not against eating your feelings. But as he stalks out of the gym, Jackson and I share a concerned look.

No cheesecake in the world will solve this issue.

The Thirsty Cow is a local coffee and dessert place. Music always plays softly, and they have shelves of board games.

Various paintings of cows and photos of desserts cover the walls, and the furniture is mostly overstuffed armchairs and love seats rather than tables with chairs. It’s only been operating for a few years, but it’s a massive hit for Kissing Ridge. Baristas wear tight cutoff jean shorts and revealing shirts, which also helps to keep the place busy. It’s not just the cows that are thirsty, if you know what I mean.

Griff took me here for my birthday, just after it opened, and bought me an entire blueberry pie. That was almost two years ago, and I remember it like it was yesterday.

He’s waiting for us, along with Riley and Riley’s friend Gabe, in a small sitting area near the back. Two couches face each other with a coffee table between them, and it’s a lot like being in someone’s living room.

Except your friend doesn’t keep selling you seven-dollar coffees and giant slabs of cake.

Taking the seat next to Griff, I lean in and kiss him. “Hey, babe. Did you already order for me?”

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