Father For Her Newborn Baby

CHAPTER TWO

THE LAST OF the wedding guests had finally left. It was getting dark, and Cole had handed the mantle to the lead of the cleanup crew. He’d done his brotherly duty for Trevor’s wedding, and looked forward to getting out of his suit and unwinding with a good novel before calling it a night.

He wandered toward the porch and the front door. Gretchen, the family cook, met him with an anxious look.

“Hello, Cole,” she said, trying to sound calm but not coming close.

“Hi. What’s up?” He remembered the limousine from earlier. “We have company?”

“Uh, yes.” She wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Is something wrong?” He stopped and waited for Gretchen to look up.

“Uh. No. I was just a little surprised, that’s all.” Still not looking at him, she turned toward the screen door.

“Surprised? About what?”

Tiberius appeared on the other side of the screen. “That she has a baby, that’s what.”

“Who has a baby?” His feet stuck to the porch floorboards.

“The doctor Trevor hired,” his father said with a lopsided grin.

“A baby?” What was going on? The new doctor was here already?

“You know, the little tykes in diapers, a baby.” His dad seemed to take great joy in rubbing in the news, though he looked tired beyond his years just then. It’d been a long few days preparing for the wedding; Cole would cut him some slack. “They cry a lot and need undivided attention?”

Cole sped up the last few steps to the front door, pulling out his cell phone on the way, ready to speed-dial his brother. “Trevor didn’t mention that.” In all honesty, Trevor hadn’t had the chance.

“Of course not, because you would have thrown a fit if he did,” Dad said, not splitting hairs, holding the door open for Gretchen and him to go inside.

“That’s not necessarily true. But it would have been nice to know.”

Before he could press dial, a tall and slender, dark-haired woman with vivid green eyes and ivory skin appeared in the entryway. She’d come from the east wing where she must have left her baggage, and had some sort of swaddling sling across her torso with a good-sized bulge buried inside.

“Hello,” she said, a natural rasp in her lower-than-usual female voice. “I’m Elisabete, but everybody calls me Lizzie.”

Out of the blue, Cole wondered how her laugh would sound. He guessed smoky and…

She reached out a thin hand with long delicate fingers, and, instead of dialing Trevor to curse him out, Cole pocketed the phone, took her hand and shook. Warmth emanated from both her grip and her wide gaze, which was truly stunning, and stole some of his thunder.

“I’m Cole. Nice to meet you. I’m a bit surprised by your… er… bundle there.” He nodded to the lump dangling snuggly from her middle.

She gave a fatigued smile and glanced down beneath fuller-than-usual dark brows at her baby. “My little Flora screamed the entire flight from Boston. I think she’s worn herself out. At one point I thought the flight attendant wanted to shove me out the door.” She lifted her gaze, tension dwelling in those lovely, though bewildered, eyes even as she tried to make light of her situation. “I’ll carry my load at the clinic, Dr. Montgomery. I promise.”

Had she read his mind? Only then did he think to let go of the comfort of her hand. Those deeply inquisitive eyes studied him, obviously hunting for a sign of his humanity.

“With an infant that will be a huge challenge. Are you sure you can handle the job?”

“I don’t know how much Dr. Rivers told you—”

“Dr. Rivers spoke to my brother, who left for his honeymoon today. I don’t have a clue if Trevor knew about the bambino part or not.” So much for his humanity.

“I’ve made some tea—why doesn’t everyone sit down and I’ll bring it?” Gretchen said, having never been able to handle tension, even though, having worked for years for the Montgomery family, she should have gotten used to it by now.

“Yes, why don’t we?” Tiberius said, an amused smirk on his face. He led the way to the living room.

Cole gestured for Lizzie to follow, noting her jeans-clad long legs, narrow hips and flip-flop-covered feet, thinking how impractical the footwear was for a ranch. But there was something else he noticed beyond her travel-weary appearance, and besides the single long, thick braid down her back: it was the confidence with which she walked. The way she held her head high even under his less-than-gracious welcome. This one was a fighter. Maybe she had to be.

“What kind of name is Silva?” Tiberius asked just before he sat in his favorite overstuffed chair.

“It’s Portuguese.”

Cole wasn’t exactly sure what he’d signed on for taking over his brother’s practice, but, with the arrival of Lizzie sporting a baby, that task had suddenly gotten a hell of a lot more challenging.

While Gretchen served tea in the living room, Cole asked Lizzie about medical school, but got distracted with the dozens of other questions flying through his head.

“And after spending a month in the emergency department, I knew for a fact I didn’t have what it takes to work under that kind of pressure. That place made me wicked crazy,” she said without seeming to take a breath. “Internal medicine seemed the right fit for me. It’s kind of like taking a good mystery—the patient’s symptoms—and step-by-step solving the case by diagnosing and treating them properly. Makes me feel like a medical sleuth, kind of like that TV show, House, you know? So I’m really looking forward to working in your clinic, Dr. Montgomery.”

Just what he needed, his own House. Didn’t she understand that guy would have lost his medical license a hundred different times because of his antics? Cole definitely had his work cut out for him training a new, dreamy-eyed doctor.

Plus, she spoke rapid-fire, with a thick Bostonian accent, and to be honest he often had trouble following her. Depahtmint. Pressha. Lookin’ farwid. But it was kind of amusing at the same time. He suppressed a smile as she talked on and on, probably nervous and wanting to make a good first impression. Meanwhile, he grasped for ways to make this situation work. New doctor. New mother. New clinic. And he’d thought he was out of his depth taking over the clinic before!

For a new mother, she certainly seemed to have a lot of energy, or maybe she was just a hyper type. He hoped she wouldn’t talk his ear off all the time because that would get old fast. Gee, thanks for sticking me with your sight-unseen doctor, Trev, old buddy.

She continued on with her story, and Cole hoped she’d get around to mentioning the baby, but she conveniently skipped over that part. Instead she talked about experiences in medicine and kept assuring him she’d carry her load at the clinic, then stopped midsentence when her eyes settled on Tiberius, who still had an amused smirk on his face.

“Is that how you always smile?” she asked bluntly.

Granted, it was an odd lopsided smile, but Cole figured it was typical of Dad to be a smart aleck over the mixed-up circumstances Cole had found himself in. Then he looked closer. She was right: something was off.

Lizzie popped up from the chair and walked straight to his father. “Smile again,” she said. “Hmm. Give me your hands. Squeeze.” She glanced over her shoulder at Cole, her full arched brows raised, then quickly back to Tiberius. “Are you feeling numbness or tingling on either side?” Tiberius looked confused. “Cole, he’s noticeably weaker on the right. Is this always the case?”

Cole jumped up and strode toward his father and Lizzie. “No.”

“Raise your arms for me, Mr. Montgomery.” The right arm went only half as high as the other. “Can you say ‘the sky is blue’?”

It came out slurred and jumbled. “Sy… boo.”

“I’ll call 911.” Cole dug for the phone in his pocket and made the call.

“He seemed to walk in here just fine, but then I noticed his droopy smile.” Lizzie went down on her knees to look Tiberius in the eyes. “Is your vision blurry?”

He made a tiny shake of his head.

“He needs thrombolytics ASAP. Time is brain,” she said, slipping into doctor mode, stating the obvious door-to-IV necessity for early treatment. “We’ve got a three-hour window.”

Cole filled in the emergency operator. “We need a stroke team ready to go,” he said when he’d finished. She assured him an ambulance would be on the way with estimated time of arrival twenty minutes. The nearest hospital was in Laramie. He did the math and knew time was of the essence if they wanted the best results with his father’s evolving stroke. Panic ripped through him at the thought of losing his dad. He went to him and squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll get the help you need, Dad.”

Tiberius glanced up, seeming a bit disoriented. Trevor’s wedding had taken more of a toll than Cole had realized.

“We should give him an aspirin right now,” Lizzie said.

“He’s already on daily aspirin.”

“Let’s give him another. Research shows the benefits outweigh the risk of causing bleeding in the brain.”

Cole also knew this was an ongoing debate among clinicians. Some researchers said early aspirin was beneficial, others said it could prove risky. The key was whether a clot or a burst vessel was the cause of his father’s stroke, and only a CT scan could prove that. Yet, the overemphasis of TPA, tissue plasminogen activator, as the only treatment could also cause bleeding in the brain. He wasn’t about to take up that debate now with Lizzie when his father was in the middle of a stroke.

“Out of…” Tiberius mumbled.

What? “You’re out of something?” Cole repeated what he thought his father meant.

“Asp.” He looked and sounded like someone who’d just had Novocain injections at the dentist.

His father had a history of TIAs, transient ischemic attacks, and that was caused by blockage. Why hadn’t he gotten a new bottle of aspirin immediately? Cole wanted to wring his dad’s neck, but quickly remembered there’d been a lot of activity going on over the past week with wedding plans and parties and Cole moving back home. Today’s wedding had been an all-day affair. He’d cut his father some slack, but still wondered if this TIA could have been prevented, and whether or not it would turn into a full-blown cerebrovascular accident this time around. The thought sent a shard of fear deep into his chest.

“Let’s do it, then,” Cole said, jogging to the closest medicine cabinet in the hall bathroom. “There isn’t any here,” he called out. Frustration blended with panic.

“I’ve got some in the kitchen,” Gretchen said, close on his heels. “You should have told me you were out, Monty,” she called over her shoulder.

When they returned, Lizzie had remained with Tiberius, reassuring him and distracting him by showing her newborn to him. She cooed over her baby and smiled up at the man. That lopsided smile returned, and his eyes looked calmer and more focused since gazing at the sleeping child.

“Take this, Dad.” Cole gave him the aspirin. “Can you swallow okay?” He tested his dad with a tiny sip from the cup of forgotten tea on the table next to his chair. He seemed to swallow okay, so Cole gave it to him. If this was a true TIA, his symptoms would go away within ten to twenty minutes. If it was a CVA, there was no telling how long or how much worse it could get. By Cole’s count it had already been over ten minutes since Lizzie had astutely noticed his father’s quirky grin, and as of now the symptoms remained unchanged. A foreboding shadow settled around Cole’s vision; worry kicked up the fear he’d tried to suppress. He wasn’t ready to lose his dad. Nowhere near.

“I’m calling the Laramie ER, giving them a preliminary report. I already told them to have the stroke team ready to go the second Dad arrives.”

“Do you have a blood-pressure monitor in the house?” Lizzie asked as he dialed his cell phone.

It’d been so long since Cole had lived here, he didn’t rightly know.

“There’s one in Monty’s bedroom,” Gretchen said, setting off in that direction of the house.

Cole studied his father, then looked at the beautiful baby with a full head of dark hair, just like her mother. The child squirmed and stretched while still deeply asleep, and that simple marvel kept that odd smile on his father’s face. Whatever helped or distracted him. The man must be scared as hell of having another stroke. He prayed their actions would be enough for now.

Gretchen produced the portable blood-pressure cuff while Cole gave his report to the ER. He watched as Lizzie carefully placed her baby, who was obviously still exhausted from the big airplane trip, across Tiberius’s lap, then she went right to work setting up and checking the numbers. “Well, we can’t blame his blood pressure for this CVA.” At one hundred and thirty over eighty-five it wasn’t greatly elevated.

Cole repeated the BP to the doctor on the phone. He knew that eighty percent of all strokes were ischemic, caused by a blockage of blood flow. The fact that his father had kept his blood pressure under control since his first TIA a couple of years ago, plus his BP wasn’t exceptionally high right now, meant the odds of a hemorrhagic stroke were much less. But you never knew, he couldn’t be too cautious and the man belonged in the hospital for treatment and best outcome. And just before he finished the call, there was the sweet sound of a distant ambulance siren.

“Our ride’s here,” he said to the doctor on the other end, then gave his dad a reassuring smile. “ETA an hour and ten.” That left a one- to two-hour window to get his father on thrombolytic therapy for best chance of full recovery. He hoped it would be enough.

CHAPTER THREE

WELL AFTER MIDNIGHT, Lizzie struggled with her colicky baby. These fits always seemed to happen at night. The child had been so intent on crying she couldn’t calm down enough to nurse. At the end of her tether, Lizzie walked the floor of the cathedral-ceilinged living room, with the spiral staircase winding up to a huge loft library at the back.

She had no business being a mother. Didn’t this prove it? She didn’t know what she was doing, and poor Flora sensed it. The baby bore the brunt of her overworked and undertrained parent. She wanted to cry right along with her child, but held it in, afraid if she let that gate open she’d never regain control.

She’d put on quite a show that afternoon, walking into a strange house with her baby, acting as if she were the most confident girl in the world. Oh, yeah, move out of state? Take a temporary job? Piece of cake. How long before Cole Montgomery sees through me?

Headlights flashed across the arched, church-sized window. Oh, great, just what she needed—now Cole would know what a failure she was as a mother, too. She thought about running off to her room set away from the rest of the house. Maybe he wouldn’t hear Flora’s wails there. But her curiosity about Tiberius overpowered her desire to run and hide—was saving face really that important?—so she stayed put. Her one hope being Cole wouldn’t demand she shut Flora up because if he did, she might have to quit the job before she even started.

She took a deep breath and switched her little one to the other arm and bounced her. Maybe Flora had worn herself out, because she shifted from scream mode to fussy and generally unhappy—an improvement. But could Lizzie blame her for having colic? The poor kid was stuck with her, clueless and unnatural, as a mother.

This move to Wyoming was supposed to be the first step in a better life for both of them, yet Flora’s distress seemed to prove otherwise. Why did she have to doubt herself at every turn since becoming a mother? She couldn’t very well ask her own mother for help.

A key turned the lock in the front door, and from the darkened room Lizzie saw Cole enter. His head immediately turned to the sounds of the baby’s cries.

“Hi,” she said, walking toward him, glad she’d thrown a long sweater over her funky flannel pajama pants and overstretched tank top. It was too late to try to do anything with her hair, though.

He nodded, looking tired and grim when he turned on the light. He watched her a few moments as they both adjusted to the sudden brightness.

“How’s your dad?” She shifted Flora to her shoulder and rubbed her back as she continued to fuss loudly and squirm in her arms.

“He’s stable. The CT scan showed blockage without bleeding, so that’s good. They put him on ATP well within the window for best results. Only time will tell.”

She thought about the news. It was promising, and that was all they could hope for tonight. “So the CVA hasn’t evolved?”

“You still can’t understand him when he tries to talk, but the right-sided weakness seems less. At least that’s something.” Cole threw his keys in a ceramic bowl on the long entry hall table, the sound startling Flora and the fussing turned to crying. “Oh, sorry.” He grimaced.

“It’s not you. We’ve been up for a couple hours. I keep hoping she’ll wear herself out enough so I can nurse her.” God, she wanted to cry, that familiar helpless feeling of not being able to comfort her daughter ripping at her heart.

His brows pulled downward. “You need your sleep just as much as she does.” Surprising her, he took off his jacket, laid it over the back of a chair and reached for Flora. “Maybe a change in scenery will help. Give her to me.” He took her squirming baby, now looking amazingly tiny in his big hands and arms. “Let’s go in the kitchen, and have some herbal tea or something. It’ll do us both good.”

He led the way—her wriggling, loudly protesting baby leaving him unfazed—and, though feeling embarrassed about her appearance, she followed. Fortunately the kitchen light had a dimmer, so Cole left it at half the usual brightness. That worked for Lizzie. The less he saw of her bed hair and unwashed face, the better.

“I’ll put the water on,” she said, noticing that Flora still fussed but had quieted down a little. “Where do you keep the tea?” In a kitchen the size of her entire apartment back in Boston, she didn’t have a clue where to begin to look.

“The pantry,” he whispered, and pointed to the corner, Flora in the crook of his elbow as he unconsciously rocked the fidgety baby. “Second shelf. I like the Sweet Dreams brand, but there’s some chamomile, too, somewhere, I think.”

It tickled her to think of big ol’ Cole Montgomery liking herbal tea and holding babies. Even though he gazed at Flora as if she were an alien from Planet X. After she got the tea she was grateful the cabinets had glass doors, so at least she knew where to find the cups.

Behind her, he chuckled softly. “I think she’s hungry—she keeps trying to suckle my neck.”

“Oh!” Maybe she should stop everything and nurse that child since that seemed to be her message.

“You have a bottle or something?”

“I’m nursing. Why don’t you give her to me?”

He gently handed Flora back to Lizzie, and their gazes caught and held briefly. He seemed to have questions in his, and she didn’t want to begin guessing what he wondered. Most likely something along the lines of—what in the hell are you doing here?

Good question. Would he believe her answer—making a better life for my daughter?

Flora had settled down and showed all the signs of finally being ready to nurse. “If you don’t mind watching the kettle, I’ll take her back to the living room. I’m already in love with your dad’s favorite chair.”

He blinked his reassurance. “I’ll bring the tea when it’s ready.”

Five minutes later, with Flora finally nursing contentedly, Lizzie had thrown her sweater over her chest for privacy, and Cole brought two teacups to the living room, lit only by the light of the moon.

“Mind if I join you?” he whispered.

She smiled up at him as he put her cup on the table nearest her free hand. She’d honestly expected him to use a mug, but he sat across from her and sipped his tea as if it was second nature. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him because her main thought was, Thank goodness Flora quit crying and is nursing. Now maybe she could breathe. At least she knew how to do something good for her baby. Yet, hadn’t Cole calmed the child down? Maybe he had a kid of his own?

“How do you know how to quiet babies so well?”

“I didn’t know I did.” His surprised-bordering-on-shocked expression said it all. Pure luck, the kind Flora wished she had more of. “I just saw you struggling and you looked like you needed some help.” And wasn’t that an understatement?

Her first sip of hot tea soothed her strained throat. It never ceased to amaze her how her entire body tensed when Flora was unhappy. She was surprised her milk let down so easily under the circumstances. “I thought maybe you had your own kids or something.”

He let go a big puff of air, a sound meant to show the absurdity of the comment. “No-o-o. No kids. No wife. Just me and cardiology. See, I understand the physiology of the heart perfectly—the emotional side of things, don’t have a clue.”

She lightly laughed. “I hear you on that one.” Cole had revealed a lot in that last sentence. Maybe they had something in common.

“So is that why you’re not married either?”

Sitting in the dark helped shadow her first reaction—pain. A year ago she would have bet her life on her and Dave getting married, but, after his wicked change in character when she’d told him she was pregnant, she was glad she wasn’t married to him. In fact, her life, or losing it, might have actually been part of the bet. The guy had gone ballistic with the news. He’d flipped out and grabbed her, shaking her violently, then shoved her against a wall, banging her head several times on the surface. You think you can trap me with a kid? Think again. She’d never seen him so crazed; the memory of his wild-eyed stare still sent shivers through her muscles.

She’d never felt more helpless in her life either and vowed that would never happen again. Fortunately, he’d stopped at roughing her up, hadn’t hit her or anything, just manhandled her to frighten her for messing with his plans. He’d given her one last shake and left. So much for true love. And so much for never feeling helpless again. It seemed since Flora had been born, helpless had become her middle name.

She reminded herself she’d come to Wyoming to change things. She wasn’t helpless. She had a job. “Her dad and I couldn’t work things out. He took off. I stayed pregnant.”

“How’d you manage to finish med school with a newborn?”

“Called in a lot of favors.” It wasn’t that she wanted to be abrupt, but, really, they didn’t have all night for her to explain that one. Maybe the guy deserved a bit more than her glib answer, though. “When you’re raised in foster care you learn to be resourceful. I’d helped a lot of students through the toughest modules, did one-on-one study sessions with a girl who probably would have failed the boards otherwise. You know, that kind of thing. They owed me.”

“Wait a second, back up.” He leaned forward. “You were raised in foster care?”

“After my grandmother died, yes.” So she wasn’t exactly being forthcoming. It wasn’t that she wanted to be secretive; she was just saving him the sob story. Did Cole really need to hear all of it?

“And what happened to your mother?”

“She went back to being a meth head after I was born.”

He shook his head and, since her eyes had adjusted to the dark, she could make out his sympathetic expression, brows pushed together, lips tight. Yeah, she’d had a hard life, he got it, no need to pound home the point. “And you rose above all of that and made it into medical school. That’s amazing.”

She pushed her head back onto the soft cushion of the high-backed chair, suddenly needing that extra comfort. Put that way, yeah, maybe she was amazing. “The only thing I had control of in my childhood was my school grades. I guess you could say it paid off. If you don’t count the fact that I wasn’t chosen for a single residency program I applied for.” She didn’t want to sound sorry for herself, but the discouraged sigh had already left her lips.

“Didn’t anyone counsel you on casting your net wide? From what I was told you only applied to the five most prestigious hospitals in the nation. No offense, but what were you thinking?”

“That I should reach for the stars.” She needed to shut him down, be blunt, because she’d gone over her blunder a million times already and it always came back to the same conclusion—there was nothing she could do about that now. And that was why she’d come to Wyoming, to make up for it. To start over. To give her baby a good start in life.

Her little scientific experiment had worked. She’d formed her hypothesis, tested it, and analyzing her data—sitting in silence, the dim light from the hallway making his shadow large and looming, mouth firmly shut—he wouldn’t and didn’t know what to do with the truth. Yep, she’d been right.

“So how are we going to work this out?” Cole’s deep voice cut through her thoughts, his rugged yet handsome face dappled in moonlight and shadows.

“You mean my working for you? Or my living here with a colicky baby?”

He nodded, his laser gaze, noticeable even in the dim light, nearly making her squirm. “Part A.”

Under the sweater, she shifted Flora to the other breast and waited until she latched on. “Well, while you were at the hospital I had a long talk with Gretchen. She seems to have an unfulfilled grandmotherly gene. She said she’d be happy to take care of Flora when I work.”

“Maybe you should just work part-time at first.”

She wanted to yell, Don’t you get it? I’m broke. I need the money! But she swallowed another sip of tea instead. “But you hired me to work full-time. I want to keep my side of the bargain.”

He went quiet again and studied his expensive brand-name shoes. The man oozed wealth. And good looks. “I’m glad to pay you the amount Trevor agreed on, but maybe at first you can come in half days or something.”

“You do realize that women only get six weeks’ maternity leave in the US and return to work all the time, right? I’m that single mother in med school who never missed an overnight shift, and my only support system was other med students. I graduated the same day as everyone else with my baby swaddled in a sling across my chest. People do what they’ve got to do, you know? Gretchen said she’s happy to help. Let me do what you hired me for, okay?”

Take that!

“That’s commendable. I’ll give you that.” He remained thoughtful, probably analyzing her plea, seeing right through her, figuring out how desperate she was. “I suspect Dad will be in the hospital at least a week, and then be sent to rehab after that. Once he comes home, though, Gretchen will have her hands full caring for him.”

“You’ve got a point, but by then I can find other child-care arrangements.” Keep positive even against the odds. You’ve got to.

He thought for a moment or two. “Reasonable enough.” Whew! He put down his teacup and slapped his big palms on his thighs. “Well, I’ll leave you and Flora to your feeding. It’s been a long day.”

She nodded. “I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

Before he left the room, she studied his huge silhouette in the doorway, broad shoulders, long torso, big in every way, a man’s man. Fine-looking man. Yet he’d been gentle with Flora. Was it totally wrong to find your new employer sexy? Yet she couldn’t deny she did.

“May I ask you a question?” It had been bothering her since she’d noticed the identical scars on his forehead when she’d first met him, and to be honest she needed something to get her mind off how attracted she was to him.

He turned. The epitome of patience… and gentleman cowboy… sexy.

“Did you have a broken neck?”

The hallway light cut across his profile. He scrunched up his face, obviously surprised by her comment. “Another astute observation, Dr. Silva. I take it my halo-brace scars tipped you off?”

She nodded, trying not to look smug, though definitely feeling it.

“When I was fifteen I was riding a bucking bronco, got bucked off and fractured C1-C2. I was fortunate not to have a spinal-cord injury, as you can obviously tell.” He held out his arms, palms up, looking over his own body.

“No need for fusion?”

“Three months wearing that brace did the trick. It also changed my life goal of becoming a rodeo star.” He smiled and deep vertical grooves cut through his cheeks. Yeah, that was sexy, too.

But his confession made her laugh outright. “A rodeo star?”

“You’re looking at Cattleman Bluff’s former junior rodeo bucking-bronco champion.” He said the mouthful with an amused twinkle in his eyes, as if the title might have carried some clout around here at one time.

But rodeo stars were as foreign as extraterrestrials to a girl from Boston. “I’d say I was impressed, if I had a clue what that meant.” If this was her idea of flirting, she wasn’t doing a very good job.

His closed-lip smile widened slowly, finally revealing a fine line of teeth, and the effect, combined with the lingering glint in his eyes, sent a shiver through her. Oh, man, this could be bad. Dr. Montgomery is gorgeous.

She swallowed. “I’m sure you were a regular star around these parts.” She tried out her version of cowboy talk, her accent no doubt falling far short of the mark. These pahts. Come to think of it, she could imagine him in dungarees and a torso-hugging cowboy shirt. And what she’d give to see the man wearing a cowboy hat.

“Easy come, easy go,” he said.

“Sounds pretty ouchy to me.”

“That, too. I guess you can say I’m a doctor today because of that accident.”

“Weird how life goes sometimes, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He gave her statement some thought. “Well, I hope you both get a good night’s sleep.”