“Yeah, well.” He pulled open the door and extended his hand. “Dad raised a gentleman. Just because youcando things for yourself doesn’t mean you always have to.”
“Well said.” She climbed in, flicking the brim of his cowboy hat on the way up. Her grin remained in place even after he closed the door.
It wasn’t until they were a few miles from the church that he pressed for information. “Ready to tell me your memory?”
She pressed the button on the glovebox. It sprang open, and she slammed it shut, then repeated the motion. Unease was scribbled across her face.
He waited. They reached the edge of town, and he swung left, away from the ranch and toward the next city.
“If it was real,” she started low and hesitant, either to remind herself or them both that she didn’t trust herself. “We were outside. Walking.” She fluttered her fingers through the air in swift motions like butterfly wings. “I couldn’t smell anything, but the trees were in fall colors.”
That could be almost anywhere. The whole town was littered with trees that changed in fall.
She closed her eyes and pressed the heels of her hands over them. “It was a dirt path. Kind of narrow, but we walked side by side most of the way. At one point, we broke through the trees, and a small clearing was in front of us. We sat on an old bench covered in graffiti.”
“Wellspring.” The day popped into his head in perfect detail. It was the day he’d asked her to be his girlfriend. Years before he asked her to be his wife.
“What’s that?” The hope in her voice unraveled the knots yanking his insides into confetti. “It’s a real memory?” She grabbed his arm where it rested on the console. “You’re not saying that to make me feel better?”
“I’m not the kind of person who says what you want to hear, Michelle.” He turned his hand over and captured her fingers. “It’s a real memory. Wellspring is an old hiking trail in the park. We used to go there every few weeks. That bench was our favorite spot to stop for a break before heading back.”
Many of their major moments happened on that bench or at the ranch. He kept silent on that part of their history, not willing to risk frightening her away with the depth of longing that grew with every passing day. All his self-imposed promisesabout helping her without any hope of reward were beginning to feel foolish. He had no intention of trying to pressure her into remembering him, but that small kernel of hope was blooming brighter and brighter.
“Can we go there?” She lifted her feet off the floorboard. “I’m wearing somewhat decent footwear.”
Her old cowboy boots made him smile. She’d paired them with a denim skirt and a pastel blue shirt that looked too flimsy to be good for much other than to be pretty. And it was. She was more than pretty. The Michelle who’d broken his heart was stunning, and this matured version almost stopped his heart every time he let himself truly look at her.
“Yeah, we can.” He took the next right and followed the signs for the park, pointing them out to Michelle in case she ever wanted to come back by herself. “It’s open year around, from daylight until dusk.”
She smirked at that. “Does that mean it closes at different times in winter than in summer?”
“We leave that decision up to Benny, but yeah, pretty much.” He chuckled at her disgruntled expression. “Welcome to Nebraska.” He added an extra twang to the state, deepening his slight drawl.
She rolled her eyes in a playful manner and released his hand.
He missed the touch but concentrated on lining up the truck in a parking spot. “The trail starts there. It’s about a half mile. Not too steep. We should be fine.”
“We?”
He showed her his own footwear. “Hiking in cowboy boots not recommended. They’re slick and have no traction. Great for stirrups. Terrible for trails.”
She grunted.
He poked her arm. “Now I understand why you make fun of me when I do that.”
“Why is it that I come back here and suddenly need five different kinds of footwear?”
“Not five.” He raised his hand and ticked off each kind. “Boots for horses. Tennis shoes for every day, including hiking. Church shoes. Not five. Just three.”
“Just.” She harrumphed but it had no heat behind it. “Let’s get to hiking.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He tipped his hat and rushed to her door.
Minutes later, sweat slicked his spine and Michelle stopped beside him, putting a hand over her heart. “Thought you said this was an easy trail.”
“I forgot.” He’d forgotten one stretch of the trail wound upward at an angle that had him grasping tree roots and holding Michelle’s wrist to keep her from sliding back down. He tracked the path behind them. “Getting down could be fun. Sometimes we’d sit and slide.”
“Not in this skirt.” She frowned at the blue denim. “Then again, it’s probably tough enough to handle it. Or.” A sharp jerk pulled his arm when she skidded backward. “You could give me a piggyback ride.”
