Page 28 of Bull Riders Don't Swoon

Griff pays for my ice cream, blueberry cheesecake explosion, and while we sit in the warm sun and eat our frozen treat before lunch, talking about what we plan to do in the next four days, it occurs to me that this is the first time since university I’ve felt this free. Free to be the person I was when I met Griff and not the young man hell-bent on becoming the best bull rider.

And I like it.

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Griff

Travelling with my best friend has never been hard. We’ve always had an easy banter and understanding.

This trip is different. While our banter and teasing are still there, I know I’m hiding something big from Jamieson, and if I don’t tell him, it will cause hurt I didn’t intend to bring.

He parks the truck in an angled parking space along the main street. This town is so cute, it should be on a postcard. Rainbow flags hang from all the lamp posts down the street, and giant hanging baskets of flowers in a riot of colours hang literally everywhere there’s still space.

“Griff, look.”

Jamieson grabs my attention as we meet in front of the truck and he points to a crosswalk painted in rainbow with the words,YOU MATTER, through it. If my town did this when I was growing up, I would have made an enormous impact on my life. Simple gestures can go a long way.

“Wow. I know Kissing Ridge is progressive, but I don’t think you’ll ever see them painting a crosswalk like that.”

“This is going to be amazing, Griff. Come on. Let’s pick up the key and find dinner.”

Jamieson leads me down the sidewalk towards the place we’re supposed to pick up the key to our accommodations.

“This is it.”

He pushes open the door to Dark Horse Tattoo, and I don’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t this. It’s lush and welcoming, with a plant hanging in the corner and comfortable furniture. The walls are adorned with gorgeous paintings, some that border on erotic, but the one that holds prime wall space is a painting of a peacock.

“I’ll be right there!” A younger man exits a side room after a beat. “Oh! You must be Jamieson?”

“Yeah, is Marko in?”

“He isn’t. Kind of a last-minute thing, but he left you a key and some info. I’d be happy to answer questions you have on how to get to the ranch, though.”

Jamieson chats up the younger man, Curtis, and I sort of listen while my gaze keeps returning to the paintings along the one wall. The peacock is so vibrant and stunning, it’s hard to look away, but it’s the smaller piece next to it that keeps drawing my attention.

“Griff? Did you hear me?”

Jamieson is suddenly next to me, and I point to the pencil-drawn art. “Look at this. I’ve never been one to appreciate art, but I can’t stop looking at it.”

It looked like a simple drawing from across the room, but the more I stared, the more it drew me in. It’s not overly complex, but it calls to me in a way I can’t put my finger on.

“All the art is by Marko, the guy who did Jamieson’s tattoo. He’s the owner of this place. He’s also a supremely talented artist.”Curtis walks over to stand on my other side. “He drew this on his honeymoon. It’s one of his favourites. Mine too.”

The sketch is a man’s hand holding a heart. The heart isn’t perfect or anatomically correct. It’s literally a cartoonish heart, but it’s drawn with purposeful imperfections. It’s scratched and missing a tiny piece on the edge, but it’s smiling with a single tear on its cheek. The heart walks from one hand into the other, and the wedding bands are visible on the ring finger of each hand now that Curtis mentioned a honeymoon.

One hand is calloused, and the other is smoother but paint stained, and it’s the way the damn heart has a hand reaching out to the empty hand that has me blink back something raw. Something I just can’t put into words.

“Would he mind if I took a photo of it?”

“I don’t think so. He knows Jamieson, so I think he’d be okay with it.”

My hand shakes as I pull my phone out and snap the picture. If Jamie notices, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Right, so you said there’s a diner here we should eat at?”

On cue, Jamieson’s stomach growls and we all laugh. Curtis explains how to find the diner and I take a last glance at the art on the walls.

“Thanks for your help, Curtis. Just in case I don’t see Marko while we’re here, please thank him for me.”

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