Daydreams

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “I’m good,” he said, finally releasing Sayler’s wrist. “I’m sure I startled her as much as she did me.” Sayler felt her cheeks burning with the blush of humiliation.

  “You better get over to the pediatrics wing, Sayler,” Denay said. “It’s a more appropriate area for your…services.”

  “Well…as long as she’s here,” Mr. Booker began, running his hand through his hair as he stretched, “she said she’d read to me. Green Eggs and Ham, wasn’t it?” Sayler wanted to burst into tears. She thought he was mocking her too, until he winked and gestured she sit in the chair next to his bed. “Is that what’s for lunch here too? Ham?” he asked Fabiana as Sayler sat in the chair. Sayler’s cheeks burned warmer, delight at his understanding wink heating her blush.

  “Actually,” Fabiana said, still flirting at him with her eyes, “ham is on your menu this afternoon, I believe.”

  “Sayler doesn’t usually spend time with the physical therapy patients, Mr. Booker,” Denay said.

  “Doesn’t the boatload of money my insurance is dishing out for my rehab cover it?” he asked. Sayler’s eyes widened at his brazen insinuation to Denay. She watched as Denay forced a smile.

  “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” Denay said, “if that’s really how you want to spend your time before your therapy begins.”

  Mr. Booker smiled and winked at Sayler again. “I love that book. My mom used to read it to me every night when I was a kid.”

  “Very well, then,” Denay said. Her eyes blazed with angry indignation as she glared at Sayler before turning to leave. “Nurse Hoffman,” she said, signaling Fabiana she too should leave. “If you should need anything else, Mr. Booker, Nurse Hoffman or myself will be more than happy to assist you.”

  “Thanks,” he said, nodding to them.

  Once Denay and Fabiana left the room, Sayler looked to Mr. Booker, and words of apology began spilling from her.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Booker,” she said. “I…I thought you were…I thought—”

  “They set you up,” he said.

  “Yes,” she admitted, feeling young, silly, and very, very gullible.

  “They pick on you because you’re so cute,” he chuckled, smiling at her. Sayler felt her face go crimson with another elated blush. He was unbelievably charming! No one should be fantastically attractive and dreamily charming too! It wasn’t safe for female hearts.

  “They do it because my grandpa owns the Center,” she explained. “They hate the…they call it nepotism.”

  “Ah,” he said, nodding. “I can relate.”

  “Really?” she asked. Surely he was only being kind.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Me and my brother took over my dad’s company when he retired. We ended up having to hire all new people ’cause nobody thought we could really run it. They thought my dad was just pampering us without our having to work or earn it.”

  Sayler nodded, pleased with his understanding insight. Yet guilt still pecked at her.

  “Still…I really am sorry for disturbing you, Mr. Booker,” she said.

  He shook his head and said, “Naw. It’s all right. I’ve gotten lazy since the accident. I’ve been spending far too much time sleeping and watching TV.”

  “So you’re here at Rawlins for some extra physical therapy, Mr. Booker?” Sayler asked. She knew she could leave any time. She knew he really didn’t want her company, that he’d only said so to champion her in front of Denay and Fabiana. Yet he was too attractive! She couldn’t make herself leave. She wanted to take a picture of him to show Monica, for she knew her friend would never believe she’d been talking to such a gorgeous man.

  “Yeah,” he answered. “Ten days to two weeks, depending on how I do. I think I’m fine…but the doctor says he wants to make sure I have some strength back before I go off and do something stupid.”

  “I’m sorry about your accident,” Sayler said. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable?”

  He grinned at her, and somehow the mischief in his expression caused goose bumps to break out over her arms.

  “Well, you can call me Bo instead of Mr. Booker,” he began. “And…do you think you could help me to the bathroom?”

  “What?” Sayler asked. Surely he wasn’t serious.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, chuckling. “I’m fine once I get in there. It’s just…my legs are still kind of stiff and weak when I first get up.”

  “Well…sure,” Sayler said. “I…I’m sure I could help you over there.”

  “Good!” he sighed. “It’s either that or you’re gonna have to go get a bedpan for me.”

  He tossed his bedding aside and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Come on, now,” he said, motioning for her to help him. “Let’s get it done.”

  Sayler jumped to her feet. Momentarily distracted by the green Scooby Doo pajama bottoms he wore, she couldn’t help smiling as she took his hands and helped him stand. He was tall but not too tall. His shoulders were broad, and the muscles in his arms hardened as he pulled on her arms to help himself stand. Sayler’s eyes widened, impressed with their definition.

  “I guess I’m still kind of chicken too,” he said, placing an arm around her shoulders as he took several careful, small steps toward the bathroom. “I broke the tibia and fibula in both legs, and my mind keeps telling me they’re still really too weak to support me.”

  “It’s your muscles that are weak, maybe your knees and ankles from the casts you had on,” Sayler told him as they moved slowly toward the bathroom. “How long have the casts been off?”

  “Almost two hours,” he said. Sayler inhaled, and the mannish scent of his deodorant filled her lungs. He smelled wonderful!

  “Wow! Only a couple of hours? You’re stiff, but you’ll bounce back pretty fast now,” she told him, enchanted by the feel of his heavy arm around her shoulders, the warm flesh of his waist against her arm as she helped to support him.

  “That’s good. I’m getting sick of being so dependent,” he said.

  As they reached the bathroom, Sayler guided his hands to the support rails on the bathroom wall.

  “You’ll be okay now?” she asked, rather dreading his answer. She helped the patients at the Center with simple tasks, but she was not a nurse and nowhere near prepared to help him any further.

  Bo Booker smiled and said, “Yeah. I can take this from here. But don’t go far.”

  “Okay,” she said, returning his smile. He closed the bathroom door, and she sighed. It was obvious he was a man used to doing everything on his own. She knew how hard his situation must be for him. She’d have known it even if he hadn’t referred to it himself. It was evident he was fiercely independent.

  Her smile faded a bit as the memory of Denay’s trickery washed over once more. She’d never told her grandpa about the way they treated her. She felt she should handle it on her own. Still, there were times she wondered if Denay’s and Fabiana’s employment at the Center should continue. Were they good enough nurses to justify their bad character?

  She heard the toilet flush and then the water running in the sink.

  “Whew!” he said as he opened the door. “I feel much better.”

  Sayler’s unhappy thoughts of Denay and Fabiana were instantly washed away at the sight of him.

  “I’m glad,” she said, smiling up at him.

  Bo smiled at the pretty teenage girl standing before him in blue jeans, a white shirt, and a white-and-red candy striper’s apron. She was an adorable little thing! Her maple-brown, blonde-highlighted hair was pulled up into a perky ponytail, and her amber eyes sparkled with the excitement and innocence of youth. Even for the rather goofy apron she wore, he could discern her figure was mighty fine! She looked to be about seventeen or eighteen, and a quick wish she were older traveled through his mind. What a babe she was!

  A bad taste flooded his mouth as he thought of the two snotty nurses who had set her up to be humiliated at his hand. Wenches! But he could surely see why they wou
ld want to take her down—she outshined them like the sun did the moon. Yep, too bad she isn’t older, he thought.

  He was smiling at her! It was entirely unnerving, but Sayler bathed in the pleasure of it anyway. He was so handsome!

  “I figure I might as well wait until after my therapy session to shower, right?” he asked.

  “That’s usually the patient’s preference here,” Sayler told him.

  “Okay then, candy stripper,” he teased. “Take me back to bed.” Sayler nodded and put his arm around her shoulders.

  Once she’d helped him to sit back down on his bed, she knew she had no other excuse to linger. His lunch would arrive soon, and then he’d be wheeled off to therapy, no doubt. Still, she was very disappointed to have to leave him.

  “Well,” she began, “I guess I’ll leave you to your meal.”

  He frowned and asked, “What about the book?”

  “The book?” she asked. He was quite the tease.

  “Yeah,” he said. “You said you’d read it to me.”

  “You don’t really want me to read Dr. Seuss to you, do you?” she asked, delighted by his attention.

  “Heck yeah!” he assured her. “It’s either that or daytime TV,” he said, pointing to the television set mounted to one ceiling and wall in the corner of the room.

  “I could read something else to you,” she offered.

  “Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “I want Green Eggs and Ham. ‘I do so like them, Sam-I-Am,’” he quoted.

  Sayler giggled, delighted by his chivalry. He was merely trying to distract her from the awful embarrassment she’d naively walked into. Still, she was willing to make a fool of herself a little longer, if it meant spending more time in his company.

  “Okay, then,” she said, reaching into her book bag and retrieving her copy of the famous children’s book.

  “Be sure and show me the pictures too,” he said.

  Sayler giggled again and shook her head. “You’re a very nice man, Mr. Booker,” she told him. “I walked headlong into their trap, and it’s kind of you to try to soften the humiliating blow.”

  “My name’s Bo, Sayler,” he said. “And I’m ready for my story now.”

  Her arms prickled with goose bumps at the sound of his voice uttering her name. Oh, how she wished she were older. Just a few years! Just enough to really flirt with him.

  “Very well,” she said, opening the book.

  Ten minutes later, Sayler closed the book, Bo Booker having quoted the final stanzas himself from memory.

  “It’s a classic,” he said, taking the book from her and leafing through the pages. He smiled. “What a funny guy Dr. Seuss was. You know?” He handed the book back to her. Sayler tucked it into her book bag and breathed a heavy sigh.

  Glancing at the clock on the wall, she said, “One o’clock. They’ll have your lunch in any minute.”

  “Good. I’m starving,” he admitted. “Is the food any good?”

  Sayler shrugged and said, “I think so. We really try here…to make your stay as pleasant as possible.”

  “Well, with candy strippers as part of the staff…I’m sure my stay will be very pleasant.” Sayler couldn’t help but giggle as he winked at her. She was glad he was kind, had a sense of humor, and hadn’t yelled and berated her for being such a dip and falling for Denay’s trickery. “And the lip balm thing,” he added, “I think that’s a good touch too.”

  “I think you’re a shameless flirt, Mr. Booker,” Sayler said. She stood and retrieved her book bag as she made ready to leave. Often Sayler was annoyed with older men who flirted with teenage girls, but Bo Booker was different. First of all, he was drop-dead gorgeous! What girl didn’t like attention from movie-star types? Second, she figured he was only in his mid- to late twenties. That would make him prime prey if she were just a year or so older. She wished she were a year or two older. Then she’d perhaps find the courage to volley flirtations with him.

  “I suppose I am,” he chuckled. “But even so—will you come back tomorrow? You’re the most excitement I’ve had in weeks!”

  “You mean, you’d rather have the candy striper read children’s books to you than keep up on the soaps and talk shows?” she asked, certain he was just being kind.

  He shook his head, rolled his eyes, and sighed. “I swear if I have to watch Bob Barker yell, ‘Come on down,’ into that skinny microphone one more time, I’ll puke.”

  Sayler giggled again. “Do you want me to bring you some reading material or something?” she asked.

  “Nope,” he said. “Just some lip balm and whatever you already have in your bag there.”

  Sayler smiled. “All right,” she said. “If…if you’re really serious.”

  “Oh, I’m serious,” he assured her.

  “Okay, then,” she agreed. Her heart hammered as he smiled at her. “I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Booker,” Christine, one of the food services hostesses, greeted as she entered the room. “Are you ready for some lunch?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Bo said.

  Christine raised her eyebrows as she passed Sayler. Sayler instantly understood Christine’s gesture. She too was impressed by Bo Booker’s appearance.

  “Thanks for the book, Sayler,” Bo said as she turned and started to leave.

  She looked back at him and said, “You’re welcome.”

  “See you tomorrow, Sayler,” he added as Christine rolled the food tray up to the side of his bed. “And don’t forget the lip balm.” He smiled and winked at her. Sayler felt the warmth rise to her cheeks and knew she’d never be able to settle into the rest of her afternoon rounds.

  Furthermore, she couldn’t wait to tell Monica! Daydreams of falling in love with her boss be hanged! She had found a better one—nothing could possibly surpass the dreams Bo Booker could invoke! Nothing!

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Hurry up, Sayler!” Christian whined as Sayler tossed her purse into the backseat of her brother’s beat-up old Mustang.

  Sayler wrinkled up her nose and stuck her tongue out at her brother. “You be patient. You’re the one who wrecked the truck. How do you think I feel, having to wait for you every day after work? Brat.”

  Christian ran his fingers through his brown hair and sighed. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that I have to pick up Jill in half an hour or she’ll be mad.”

  Sayler sighed. She couldn’t stand her brother’s girlfriend, Jill. A high-maintenance, stuck-up control freak, Jill Hartman pushed Christian around like a lawn mower. Sayler could not figure out why Christian put up with her—especially when there was a sweet, caring girl like her friend Monica waiting in the wings.

  “She’s always mad. You’ve gotta unload Jill, Christian,” Sayler said. “She’s not what you need…or want.”

  Christian didn’t argue. He simply shrugged his shoulders and pulled away from the curb.

  “How was your day?” he asked.

  Sayler couldn’t help but sigh, her radiant smile betraying her good mood.

  “It was fabulous!” she said.

  “Fabulous?” Christian chuckled. “Wow! Don’t think I’ve ever heard you describe the Center quite that way. I thought those two ugly nurses at the front desk were making your life miserable.”

  “They were,” Sayler admitted. “But today…they got tripped up. And it was fabulous!”

  “Really? Cool! Who tripped them up?” Christian asked.

  “A gorgeous coma patient,” Sayler answered.

  “Oh, brother,” Christian chuckled. “Now you’re in love with a coma patient? How Florence Nightingale-ish of you.”

  “He’s not really a coma patient. He’s way awake and way gorgeous!” Sayler said.

  Christian chuckled again. “Well, I’m glad you’re finding joy in your work, little sister.”

  “I certainly did today!” Sayler sighed, closed her eyes, and let a vision of Bo Booker linger in her mind.

  He was too handsom
e! She thought again of the moment her balmy finger had first touched his lips. She imagined for a moment that he’d awakened, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her, rather than uttering a startled exclamation the way he had. She thought of his mesmerizing blue eyes, his soft brown hair, his sculpted muscles, and Scooby Doo pajama bottoms. Bo Booker was simply a living dream!

  “Drop me off at Monie’s,” Sayler said. “I’ve got to talk to her.”

  “You’ll be late for dinner,” Christian reminded her.

  “No, I won’t. I’ll hurry,” Sayler assured him.

  “Yeah, right,” Christian mumbled.

  “It’s closer to your skanky girlfriend’s house anyway,” Sayler reminded him. “It’ll save you a few minutes.”

  “Whatever,” Christian mumbled.

  A few minutes later, Christian pulled the car over in front of Monica’s house. Monica was lifting a pile of books out of the trunk of her car.

  “Hey, Sayler!” she greeted.

  “Hey, Monie,” Sayler said, getting out of the car. She was pleased when Christian put the car in park and got out of the car as well.

  “Here,” he said, approaching Monica and taking the books from her. “Let me get ’em. You want them inside?” he asked.

  Sayler did not miss the blush pinking up Monica’s cheeks as Christian smiled at her.

  “Thanks, Christian,” she said as she began nervously wringing her hands. Sayler smiled, wishing with all her heart Christian would wise up, dump Jill cold, and fall madly in love with Monica.

  “Well, I hope you haven’t got plans for the next ten years, Monica,” Christian began. “Sayler’s all wound up and needing to spew about some hot coma guy at work.”

  “Do tell,” Monica said, smiling at Sayler.

  “I’m sure she will,” Christian said as he opened the front door to Monica’s house. He set the books on the entryway table and turned to leave. “Well, you girls have fun. You take the heat if you’re late for dinner, Sayler. I don’t want Mom mad at me.”

  “I won’t be late,” she told him.

  “Yeah, right,” Christian said, shaking his head. “See you later, Monica.”