She listened to the movements of her dad and brother downstairs, and it hit her that they were every bit as alone as she was. Only Owen had an active love life, but even he showed no signs of getting serious with anyone.
Chloe laid the back of her hand against her forehead and searched for the moment when she’d first noticed the emptiness. She realized after several minutes that it had been shortly after her friend Linnea had announced her engagement and started planning her dream wedding. Is that what Chloe wanted—the big wedding, the happily ever after?
Of course she did. So did most women. But it had always been a “someday” sort of thing. It seemed as if someday were catching up with her, but getting married and having a family of her own wasn’t as simple as it sounded, either. You couldn’t just go shopping for a husband like you could a new car. Not to mention that her schedule was always crazy busy between working at the clinic and hospital and helping out her family.
Still, she couldn’t dispel that line of thought as she tried to force herself to go to sleep. Her mind began to manufacture scenes as she started to drift, scenes of her with her own house, a big yard where two small children laughed and played. She looked toward a barn in the distance, saw someone walk out of it and head toward her. Her heart leaped and the excitement of anticipation rushed through her. As the man drew closer, the thought that he was her husband, the love of her life, settled comfortably within her.
When he came near enough for her to see his face, she smiled. Wyatt didn’t stop until he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with so much passion that she knew in the deepest part of her heart that she was the luckiest woman in the world.
Chapter Three
Wyatt flipped through the channels on the TV for what had to be the tenth time. Still nothing remotely interesting. He was beginning to look forward to a nurse coming to check his vitals just so he’d have something to do.
As if the cosmos had heard his plea, someone walked into his room. Fate had taken pity on him because it was pretty Dr. Brody. She glanced at the TV, where he’d paused on some sort of infomercial for jewelry cleaner, and smiled.
“Got a lot of silver you need to clean?”
He flicked off the TV. “Daytime TV is garbage.”
“Yeah, sorry we don’t have any decent movie channels.”
“Is it possible to die of boredom?”
She lifted his chart from the end of the bed. “Afraid not, though I’m sure it feels that way.” She made a couple of notations on the chart before returning it to its previous spot.
“So, I think I’ve figured out your name.”
“That so?” Dr. Brody walked around to the side of his bed and checked the fluids in his IV bags.
“Yeah. You look like a Carly.”
“Swing and a miss.”
“Christa.”
“Nope.”
When he started to guess again, she shook her head. “Only two guesses a day.”
He lifted a brow. “Just how long do you think I’m going to be in here?”
“That’s partly up to Dr. Pierce.” She pointed toward the IV bags. “But we’ll start gradually lowering the dosage on these as well as the painkiller.”
“So what do I get when I guess your name?”
A hint of a smile tugged at the edge of her mouth. “The satisfaction of a mystery solved.”
He laughed a little, and damn if it didn’t hurt his middle. “You must have gone to the medical school where they teach doctors to have an actual personality.”
“Oh, this is all me, there way before med school.”
“Naturally quick with comebacks, huh?”
“That’s what happens when you grow up with brothers. Couldn’t beat them up, couldn’t outrun them, but I could win in a smart-mouth contest any day.”
She shifted as if leaving already, and he caught himself just before he reached out and grabbed her arm. “Seriously, when can I get out of this place?”
Her light demeanor fell away. “You sustained significant injuries. If that horn had cut a little deeper, you might not be talking to me right now. You’d at the very best be feeling a lot worse. So you need to give your body time to repair itself.”
“That’s not a definite answer.”
“Because I don’t know a definite answer. It depends on how quickly and how well your injuries begin to heal.”
Frustration welled up within him. He was not good at lying around doing nothing, especially when he was pretty sure he’d exhausted his limited health-care coverage by the time he rolled out of surgery.
“Is there anyone we can call to let them know you’re here?” she asked. “Having visitors would make the days go by more quickly.”
He shook his head. Even if he were back in Wyoming, there wasn’t anyone close enough that he’d be able to call them up and have them sit in a hospital with him.
“Tell you what. I’m done with my rounds in a few minutes. I’ll bring you some magazines, maybe a crossword puzzle book. That will help pass the time until something decent comes on TV tonight.”
“Any chance I can at least go sit outside?”
He had to give her credit. She looked genuinely sorry when she shook her head. “Not yet.”
He was going 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 g
rown 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 snorted a little laugh that told him just what she thought of that idea.
Another loud boom of thunder set off a car alarm outside, and in the next moment the electricity went out. Dr. Brody immediately jumped to her feet and headed for the door, but before she got there the backup generators kicked in.
“Be back in a bit,” she said then disappeared.
He listened to the flurry of footsteps out in the hall, as the staff checked on patients to make sure all the necessary monitors and equipment were operating correctly. Wyatt glanced at the TV and realized the angriest part of the storm sat right smack on top of Blue Falls. After a storm like this, there would no doubt be necessary cleanup. If only he weren’t a prisoner of his injuries, maybe he could pick up a couple days of work. Lord knew his wallet could always use the extra cash.
That thought took him back to Dr. Brody’s comments about how he put his life in danger every time he settled himself atop a bull. But it was all he knew beyond basic manual labor. Maybe he could have done something else if he’d applied himself, but rodeo had gotten into his blood early and he’d not thought much beyond it. Good damn thing that bull two nights ago hadn’t done anything that was irreparable.
But what if it had? He’d be totally screwed.
Maybe he needed to think about a plan for when his rodeo days were over. Even the best of the best had to quit riding sometime. If he started chatting up some of his contacts now, maybe he could plant the seed that would grow into some sort of rodeo-related job after he quit riding. Maybe he’d even follow in his grandfather’s footsteps and become an announcer.
But that was down the road. All he needed to do now was heal enough to escape this damn bed and get back on the road. He was losing precious time, points and money, none of which he could afford.
Dr. Brody stayed gone so long that he’d begun to think maybe she’d headed home. He hoped not, and not just because he liked her company. The storm hadn’t slackened much. Even he would have pulled over in this mess and let it pass. He might ride bulls for a living, but that wasn’t as dangerous as driving when you couldn’t see the road in front of you.
Using the dim light above his bed, he started flipping through the fishing-and-hunting magazine. He honestly wasn’t much for hunting, but he liked the solitude and quiet of a morning of fishing. He had a lot of fond memories of fly-fishing with his grandfather on the Laramie and North Platte Rivers, outings he often wished he could relive just once.
Not wanting to travel down memory lane, he tossed the magazine back onto the table and looked at the TV screen. It appeared the storm was moving quickly. As if to confirm that observation, the rain subsided outside. He shifted his focus to the doorway and watched as people walked back and forth, but none of them were the person he wanted to see. He’d barely had that thought when she popped her head in the door.
“I’m going to see if I can float home now. Behave yourself.” She gestured toward the magazines. “And good luck figuring out the mysteries of the female mind.”
He snorted. “I’ll settle for figuring out your name. I’m confident I’ll get it right tomorrow. I’ve got two good guesses ready to go.”
“You’ll have to hang on to them. I’m off for the next couple of days.”
Wyatt’s heart sank. The days were long and boring enough without her brief visits. What the devil was he going to look forward to without them?
“Then I get six guesses when you come back.”
She smiled. “You’ll need them.”
Wyatt tried to occupy himself with some more channel surfing and reading the magazines. He even pulled out the crossword-puzzle book and worked a few. But his mind wandered and he started writing down all the C names he could think of down the margin of one of the puzzles.
When a nurse came in after the shift change that evening, he chatted her up a little before springing the question uppermost in his mind. “Hey, could you tell me what Dr. Brody’s first name is?”
“Sure,” she said with a smile that made her eyes twinkle. “It’s Chloe.” The nurse lowered her voice. “Don’t tell the other docs, but she’s our favo
rite.”
His, too.
He waited until the nurse, Sophie, left the room before he let his mind fix on the lovely doctor’s name. Chloe. It fit her. But with his curiosity satisfied, there was no way he was going to give her the correct answer. For however long he was stuck here, he needed something to look forward to. And if “guessing” the wrong names kept Chloe coming back, he’d toss every crazy name he could at her.
He smiled and felt better than he had since she’d left.
* * *
AFTER WORKING A bit more at the clinic, Chloe raced to her car through the still falling rain. Once inside, she wiped the water from her face and smoothed back her wet hair. She stared at the rivulets streaming down the windshield. She’d done it. When she’d awakened from the dream about Wyatt being her husband and kissing her as if it were the end of time, she’d doubted she’d be able to face him without blushing so brightly she’d be mistaken for a solar flare.
She’d considered avoiding him and asking Dr. Pierce to check on him instead. It wouldn’t be unusual for the surgeon to do a post-op visit. She’d even been on the verge of calling Dr. Pierce before she’d caught herself, chastised herself for being so silly. She rarely turned away from a challenge or obstacle, so she wasn’t about to let an admittedly very nice dream about a sexy cowboy send her running.
Though she’d been antsy when she arrived at his room, the feeling had quickly faded when she’d found him looking more bored than she could recall ever seeing anyone. She’d nearly laughed and felt sorry for him at the same time. During her one hospitalization for pneumonia, when she’d been thirteen, she’d been bored out of her mind, too, and she’d had family and friends visiting her and keeping her company.
Wyatt was a thousand miles from home, stuck in a town where he knew no one, unable to even get out of bed. That had to suck for a guy like him, always on the go. He was the poster child for someone who could use a friend right now. And it wasn’t the first time she’d spent extra time with a patient she felt needed it. The other doctors called her a softie. Chloe had decided long ago she could live with that label. To her, it was way better than becoming so detached that patients became a list of symptoms on case files instead of people with hopes and fears and who would rather be anywhere than in a hospital bed.
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