it be ironic if I was on my way to visit someone at the Flying B when I got hurt?”
“It would certainly solve the mystery, and quickly, too.”
There was a mixed-up part of him that wished he’d been on his way to visit her, that she’d been his agenda. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to control his attraction to her. He even worried that he might have an intimate dream about her tonight, with or without a so-called magic bed.
After they finished their pudding, she said, “I really should go now.”
He didn’t try to stop her. It was better to have some distance between them.
She left, and he watched her go.
About an hour later, someone rapped at the door, and he jumped up to answer it, wondering if she’d returned.
But it was Doc, with his medical bag.
The other man said, “Jenna told me that she put you up in this cabin. How do you like it?”
“It’s fine. But I don’t believe that the bed is magical. I know you do, though.”
“I’m a man of science, but I’ve learned that sometimes logic doesn’t apply.”
J.D. didn’t respond, and the subject was dropped. Regardless, the feeling remained. He was still concerned that he might have a sensual dream.
Doc examined him and recommended more bed rest. J.D. followed orders and went to sleep early that night. He didn’t dream about Jenna.
Much to his shock, he dreamed about himself, with an emotion-packed glimpse of who he was as a child.
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