One Southern Cowboy - Jennifer Youngblood Page 0,25
to live here, on the ranch.”
Jaxson agreed wholeheartedly. Ranching was in his blood. He couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. “It’s a great place,” he said reverentially. The ranch was even better with Lemon here. Now that she’d stepped back into his life, he didn’t want to think about her ever leaving. What would happen when she learned about her mega-successful business and her influential friends? Would she hightail it back to LA? He felt guilty for keeping that bit of information from her. Yet, she didn’t want to know. The mind was an interesting thing. It still baffled him to think that Lemon had forgotten everything. In a strange twist of fate, her memory loss had given the two of them the opportunity to start fresh. His gut tightened. Could he trust Lemon with his heart? It was dangerous territory to get mixed up with a woman who didn’t even know her own heart. Especially one who had hurt him before.
Millie nudged her nose against the pouch hanging on the fence.
Lemon laughed. “Ah, girl. You want some more.” She sighed. “Okay, but just two.”
“That’s what you said the past three times,” Jaxson reminded her. “You’re spoiling her rotten.”
“So what if I am?” She stuck out her tongue. “You old meanie.”
A short while later, they headed back to the guesthouse. Earlier, Lemon had offered to drive them to the stables, but Jaxson had insisted on walking. Now, he was regretting it. His ankle was throbbing. With his every movement, it felt like someone was punching his ribs.
Lemon gave him a worried glance. “You don’t look so good. Maybe I should jog back and get the truck.”
“Nah, I’m okay. It’s not too much farther.” He tried to keep a straight face, even though he wanted to wince with every step.
She raised an eyebrow. “It’s a good quarter of a mile. Maybe more. Weren’t you supposed to stay off your ankle for a period of time? We’ve been going full force all day. I’m sure you’re exhausted.” She sighed. “I shouldn’t have let you take me all of those places.”
“I’m fine,” he said casually. He flashed a rueful grin. “Admit it, you loved those chicken fingers and spicy fries that we got at Hammonds Restaurant.”
“It was fantastic.” She scrunched her nose. “But it was awkward, to say the least, when Ruthie Hammonds kept going on and on about how we used to go to her restaurant together as teenagers.”
“She didn’t mean any harm.”
Lemon blew out a heavy breath. “I know. It’s just so strange that I can’t remember any of it. You’d think that going to familiar places would jog my memory.” She waved a hand encompassing the space around them. “I don’t remember any of this.” She gave him an apologetic look. “Not even you.”
He dropped his jaw. “What? I can’t believe you don’t remember all of our boring, dull kisses.”
Musical laughter issued from her throat. “If it’s any consolation, I certainly remember our boring, dull kisses from this morning.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “It was mighty kind of you to suffer through it.”
She giggled. “Yep, I’m nice that way.” She moved closer to him. “Alright, limpy, you’re killing me here. I can’t stand to see you in pain.”
“I can hack it,” he countered.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure you can, cowboy, but at least let me help. Put your arm around me. I’ll take that,” she chimed as she reached for one of his crutches. “Drape your arm around my shoulders, and you can lean on me.”
He began singing a familiar pop song, belting out the words at the top of his voice. “‘Lean on me. When you’re not strong …’”
“Yikes! You sound like you’re killing a cat.”
“Hey,” he protested. “It wasn’t that bad. ‘I’ll be your friend,’” he continued.
“Maybe you’d better leave the singing to Cash.”
“Ha ha,” he said dryly. “You used to love it when I sang to you.”
She shot him an incredulous look. “I did?”
He couldn’t contain his laughter. It burst out of him in a snigger, jarring his ribs. “No.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a dip wad. You could tell me anything, and I’d believe it.”
He pursed his lips. “Hmm … now there’s an idea. I could tell you how you used to think I was the greatest thing since gravy and biscuits.”
She guffawed. “You mean how you used to think you were the greatest thing since gravy and biscuits. Mr. Hotshot Quarterback, reeling in all the women.” Her voice was a soft taunt.
“Yep, that’s me,”