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I turn around in my seat, snag another disposable ice pack from my bag and activate it with a pop before placing it across his knee without asking for permission.
“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me,” he responds on a groan.
“If you haven’t figured it out yet, it’s my responsibility to make sure that knee of yours gets healthy again, and I take all of my responsibilities seriously. So, no, to answer your question, I’m not kidding,” I answer and start the engine. “Now, remind me how to get to your parents’ house from here.”
He huffs out an exasperated breath.
But also, he keeps the ice on his knee and starts to give me directions.
Hallelujah.
A teeny tiny win at best, but a fucking win, nonetheless.
Just think, only about one million of those tiny wins to go and Rhett Jameson’s leg might actually be fully rehabbed before you head back in August.
Holy hell, it’s going to be a long summer.
June 25th, Friday
Leah
I’m finding that Fridays at Shaw Springs are busy, especially when there is a new group of guests arriving to stay for the weekend.
This morning, I juggled forcing medical care on Rhett while following him all over God’s creation on his numerous tasks to ensure ranch readiness. Cabins were checked to make sure they were clean and set up for new guests. Horses in the stalls were double-checked for cleaning, brushing, and other types of prepping for fun-filled days of taking tourists horseback riding.
Basically, we’ve been going nonstop since seven this morning, and I’m just thankful that I’ve managed to get him to stretch his knee, keep his brace on, and administer ice and ibuprofen during the few moments of downtime. Or, you know, when I stepped up to do the various chores while he chilled out—bitching the whole time—for a damn minute to rest his leg.
It’s only been four days since I managed to track him down and actually start doing a semblance of my job, and so far, our relationship mostly just revolves around me nagging him to let me take care of his injured leg and him stubbornly making that difficult.
Not to mention, we bicker. A lot.
Honestly, right now is about the only moment we haven’t been squabbling with each other, and that’s only because he’s on the opposite side of the room, getting ready to greet the newcomers.
The main area of the lodge is filled with faces I’ve never seen before. They stand around in small groups, chattering while Rhett slowly makes his way toward the front of the room. Joey sticks right by his side, her dainty fingers tucked into the front pocket of her dad’s jeans.
Once Rhett reaches the massive fireplace that frames the room, he turns around and faces the new guests. “Good afternoon, everyone,” he greets, his voice loud enough to hush the small crowd and grab their attention.
The ages of the group range from young to old—young couples, families with small children, families with less-than-enthused teenagers, and retirees—and, besides the teens, they all appear incredibly excited to start their vacation at a real-life dude ranch, their focus completely fixated on the cowboy in the front.
And I don’t miss the way the female gazes in the crowd look at Rhett.
Their eyes are big and wide, and their lips are slightly parted. It’s almost as if they can’t believe this male specimen in the boots and hat standing before them is even real.
I wish I could say they’re exaggerating, but I’d be lying.
The first time I laid eyes on him from his front porch, the man didn’t have a shirt on, and I felt like I’d died and gone to hot cowboy heaven.
Basically, if you mixed a young Clint Eastwood with his son Scott and seasoned it with a little Legends of the Fall Brad Pitt, you’d have a pretty good idea of what it’s like seeing Rhett Jameson for the first time.
Of course, once he opens his sarcastic, stubborn, grumpy fucking mouth, it changes things dramatically, but I have a feeling that’s only a me thing. Surely he doesn’t treat the guests of Shaw Springs Ranch the same way he treats me.
Only doctors trying to take care of his knee injury receive that kind of special treatment.
“Let me be the first to welcome you to Shaw Springs Ranch,” Rhett continues, and, to my surprise, his smile actually reaches his eyes. “I’m Rhett, and this lady right here is my daughter, Josephine.”
Joey offers a wave. “Hi, y’all.”
Rhett glances down at her proudly before lifting his gaze to the crowd again. “Shaw Springs was started back in the 1800s by my great-great-grandfather, Samuel Jameson, as a working cattle ranch. And my Josephine is actually the first member of the sixth generation to live here. Though, we’ve certainly changed a little since back then,” he says, pausing briefly to flash a knowing smirk. “But I think you’ll come to find during your stay here, we’re prone to makin’ everyone feel like family. It’s actually our number one goal. So, if you don’t feel like family by the time you leave here, take it up with Tex in the complaint department. And just so you know, Tex is my dad, and he’s been known to be a real hard-ass.”
