The Doctor's Cowboy. Trish Milburn

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 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