to go stark-raving mad.
“I know it stinks. But I’ll be back with some issues of Woman’s Day before you know it.”
“You are evil,” he said, at least thankful that she was personable and he had her brief visits to look forward to.
“Who, me? I’m an angel.” She pretended to buff an invisible halo before laughing a little and heading for the door. “Hang in there, cowboy.”
She knew his name, but there was something about the way she called him “cowboy” that he liked. Still, part of him enjoyed imagining her saying his name right before he kissed those pink lips. Yeah, he’d been daydreaming about his doctor. That’s what happened when you were full of stitches, unable to get out of bed and had way too many hours of staring at the wall. Not to mention not having been on a date in a while.
Wyatt was pretty sure the minutes slowed after she left. He stared out the narrow window, but the view of the empty helipad lost his interest pretty quickly. He closed his eyes and tried to think of every possible female name that started with a C. He wanted to know the doc’s name, but he sure didn’t want to stay in the hospital long enough to guess it. Maybe he’d get lucky tomorrow. He settled on the two most likely choices then was left with nothing to do again. He finally resorted to turning on the TV and found an older-than-dirt action movie. It wasn’t a great film, but it was better than resorting to counting the divots in the ceiling tiles.
He was beginning to wonder how the movie even got made when Dr. Brody returned, the promised magazines in hand. He muted the TV as she placed the magazines on the rolling table and pushed it close so he could reach it.
“I behaved,” she said as he sifted through the stack of magazines. One about hunting and fishing, another about cars, Sports Illustrated and... “Mostly.”
He laughed at the copy of Cosmopolitan. “Maybe it’ll help me figure out how women’s minds work.”
“You mean you don’t think you know that already?”
“There’s not a man alive who’s figured that out.”
“Maybe you all just aren’t observant enough.”
Wyatt shook his head, not going down that road filled with land mines. “Thanks for the magazines.”
She reached into her coat pocket, pulled out a candy bar and set it beside the magazines and the crossword puzzle book. “Figured this might come in handy, too.”
“You were in my head.”
“No, I just see what passes for dessert here.”
Thunder rumbled outside, drawing their attention to the window. It had grown dark out, even though it was still a few hours from nightfall. Wyatt noticed that a weather broadcast had broken in on the movie. The radar image was several shades of red with lots of indications of lightning strikes.
“That doesn’t look good,” he said.
Dr. Brody sighed. “Just in time for my drive home.”
“Guess you’ll have to stay here until it passes.” When she glanced at him, he winked at her.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you ordered the storm.”
“If I had that much power, I’d heal myself so I could get out of this awful bed. My back feels like I fell off a building.”
“Here, let’s see if we can do something about that.” She crossed to the other side of the room, where an empty bed sat awaiting another unfortunate hospital guest. She grabbed a pillow and stepped close to his side. “Carefully lean forward.”
He bit his lip to keep from wincing, but then his breath caught for a different reason. Dr. Brody grasped his shoulder as she tucked the pillow so that it stretched from his lower back to his shoulders. She stood close enough that he could smell her feminine scent, something flowery but not overwhelming.
“You smell nice.”
She stopped moving for a moment, and he thought he heard her breath catch, too. But when she eased him back against the pillow and took a step away, she smiled.
“Well, you’re used to smelling antiseptic and bleach,” she said, deflecting his compliment.
A loud crash of thunder that sounded as if it were right above his room caused her to jump. Right on the heels of the thunder, the sky opened up and released a deluge of rain. In the space of a couple of seconds, the helipad became obscured.
“Even Mother Nature thinks you should stay and keep me company,” he said.
“Since I didn’t bring my canoe to work, I think you’re right.”
He was actually sort of surprised when the doc pulled up a chair and propped her feet on the end of his bed.
“So, Wyatt Kelley, tell me something about yourself.”
“Not much to tell.”
“Everyone has a story.”
“And some of them aren’t all that interesting. What about you?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Your name.”
She smiled, and he spotted a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Nice try.”
“Okay, are you originally from Blue Falls?”
“Yep, born and raised on a ranch outside of town. My turn. Where are you from?”
“Laramie, Wyoming.”
“Long way from home.”
He shrugged, irked that even that slight motion sent a twinge through his injured side. “Not really. I mainly live on the road.”
“Traveling from rodeo to rodeo.”
He nodded.
“I don’t know how you guys do that, especially climbing onto bulls. My younger brother did rodeo for a while, but he was a roper. At least he wasn’t cheating death every time he got in the chute.”
“Most of the time I don’t even think about it.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I’ve been around rodeo all my life. It’s nothing out of the ordinary.”
Dr. Brody shook her head slowly. “Maybe all of you have just had one too many concussions to know better.”
“Maybe, but the crowds love it. We crazy bull riders help to bring people in to events like your town’s rodeos.”
“Yeah, but I end up patching you guys up. Do you all have contests to see who can get the most broken bones or stitches in a year?”
“No, but maybe I should start that bet. I’d have a good chance of winning.”
She
