The Doctor's Cowboy. Trish Milburn
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.
She started the car and headed home through the rain that was letting up even more. Her thoughts drifted back to when she was a child, when she would hang out at the hospital while her mom was at work there. Her mother had been a nursing assistant, but she’d been great with the patients, calming them, making them laugh, gifting them with a smiling face and a sympathetic ear.
Chloe’s memories settled on Beatrice Collins, a tiny slip of an old woman who’d been in the hospital back when Chloe had been about eight years old. Even though it’d been more than two decades since then, Chloe could still remember how very alone Beatrice had looked in her bed. The sad part was that she’d had family. They simply hadn’t come to see her. Chloe’s mom had done what she could to cheer up the older woman, but Beatrice had still died alone in the hospital. Chloe remembered her mother being upset about it, not so much that Beatrice had died but that she’d been so lonely in her final days. Chloe could still hear her mother saying, “I think she died of a broken heart as much as anything.”
She hadn’t thought of Beatrice in a long time, but the image wouldn’t leave her. Wyatt was out of the woods now and otherwise young and healthy even if he did wear the scars of his trade. Even so, she found herself pulling into a parking space in front of the Primrose Café. Before she could talk herself into driving on home like any sensible person, she got out of her car, walked inside and proceeded to order two meals to go. While she waited, she texted Garrett to let him know the Brody men were on their own tonight without telling them why.
By the time her order was ready, the rain had moved out. A sliver of the sun setting in the west had found a crack in the clouds and spread out its rays as if comforting the landscape after the storm. She took a deep breath of the rain-scented air before slipping back into her car and retracing the route to the hospital.
Luckily, the staff seemed to be busy elsewhere as she made her way down the hallway and into Wyatt’s room. “Did you miss me?”
He looked up from where he was reading the Sports Illustrated and scrunched his forehead in concentration. “Who are you again?”
She lifted an eyebrow at him. “Just for that, I’m taking this chicken-fried steak to someone who will appreciate it.” She spun toward the door.
“Wait. Don’t tease a guy like that.”
Chloe turned halfway toward him and lifted one of the takeout containers. “So you do want this?”
“I don’t care if you have a gas-station hot dog in there. It’s got to be better than the food here.”
She honestly felt sorry for the cafeteria workers. They no doubt worked hard and got no love. Still, facts were facts. Hospital food was, as a general rule, dreadful.
Chloe placed both meals on the rolling table, which Wyatt had positioned in front of him. “Scoot.” She motioned for him to move his legs so she could sit on the edge of his bed.
Wyatt opened his container and inhaled deeply. “Will you marry me?”
Chloe froze for a moment before forcing herself to laugh. She hoped he didn’t notice the jolt that went through her at his joking proposal. What was it with Wyatt and all these references to marriage? She seriously needed to get a grip. Just because she’d decided maybe it was time to start her own family before she was too old did not mean she had to latch on to the first guy who crossed her path. Sure, he was good-looking—really good-looking—but you couldn’t base a relationship on looks alone, even if that person didn’t live his life on the road cheating death most of the year.
Remembering that she hadn’t made any sort of response to his “proposal,” Chloe shook her head and opened her plastic utensils. “I think you might have that concussion after all.”
Thankfully, he didn’t pursue the topic, instead diving into his meal as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Maybe he hadn’t had a decent dinner in a long time. She’d been around enough rodeo cowboys, especially the ones who weren’t at the top of the rankings, to know they didn’t have enough cash to toss toward pricey food.
“So, what’s life like in Wyoming? I’ve never been there.”
He shrugged, and she saw the wince that motion caused.
“Probably not much different than here, just a lot colder in the winter.”
“How’d you get into bull riding?”
“Looked like fun.”
Chloe stopped eating and stared at him. “You’re going to make me work hard for every scrap of information, aren’t you?”
He met her gaze. “Frustrating, isn’t it?”
She knew he was talking about her first name. “Fair point.”
He took another bite of his gravy-covered chicken-fried steak and chased it with a drink of tea. She’d just taken a bite of her green beans when he spoke again.
“My grandpa was a rodeo announcer, so I was around rodeo from the time I was young. Can’t really say why I chose bull riding other than I was full of myself, thought I could do anything.”
“How long have you been riding? I can tell you’ve had several broken bones and probably more cuts and bruises than you can count.”
“Since I was thirteen in junior rodeo.”
“I still can’t believe they let kids ride bulls.”
“They’re not the rank ones you see in rodeos like the other night.”
“They’re still bulls with horns that can do damage.”
“Have to learn sometime. Is it any different than being a doctor? When did you know that’s what you wanted to do?”
She stared at him then sighed. “You need to stop making valid points.”
He laughed and winced again.
“Are your injuries causing you pain? We can look at the dosage of the painkillers again.”
Wyatt shook his head. “No, nothing I can’t handle. I want off those drugs as soon as possible.” The intensity of his words caused her to look at him more closely. Had he experienced a problem with painkillers in the past?
They ate in silence for a couple of minutes before she noticed Wyatt was watching her.
“What?”
“I was wondering why you decided to come back.”
This time, she was the one to shrug. “I’ve worked here long enough to know how incredibly long and boring the days can be when you’re stuck in the hospital. It’s as if time moves slower inside these walls.”
“That’s perceptive.”