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Each day after her lunch hour and before his, Sayler would enter Bo Booker's room to find him smiling, seemingly anxious for her to arrive. Each day for six days she talked with him, asking him questions about his work, his family and life. Always, however, she avoided any inquiry about his social life, whether or not he had a girlfriend. She preferred to pretend he did not, that he was quite unattached and free. That made it easier to daydream about belonging to him herself. Oh sure, she knew daydreams were only that…dreams people made up during the day to entertain themselves. Still, Bo Booker was the perfect subject matter for daydreaming and Sayler relished every one. And there were many. Sayler would find herself staring up at the sky, but instead of seeing the summer blue she saw herself on the arm of Bo Booker. Instead of hearing the stories of library excitement when Monica was speaking to her, often Sayler could almost imagine being kissed by Bo Booker. Almost feel his lips pressed to hers, almost feel what it would be like to be held in his strong arms. PART
ONE CHAPTER
ONE Sayler
Christy closed her eyes as the breeze whispered through the leaves
above. The grass was cool
and soft beneath her and the scent of warm sun on green things filled
her senses. The day was
fresh and she sighed, whisked away for a moment in the serenity of
summer. “Drama,”
Monica said. “That’s
what I want. Drama.” “Drama?”
Sayler asked, opening her eyes and rolling them as she looked to
her friend. “Drama is
too…too…too dramatic, Monie.” “You
have to have drama in it, Say!” Monica argued, running her fingers
through her blonde hair. “What good can romance be without drama?” Sayler
rolled her eyes again, turned on her side, propping her head up on one
hand. “Okay…what kind of
drama are we talking?” she asked, smiling at her friend.
“Massive drama? Or
just a bit of drama?” Monica
shrugged and took a bite of her bagel.
“I don’t now,” she answered.
“I guess too much drama could be bad.
But…I think there has to be some sort of drama or else…I
mean…how boring.” “Well,”
Sayler said, sitting up and brushing a blade of grass from her elbow.
“I suppose…if you think about it…any romance involves a
little drama…to some degree.” Monica
laughed. “I’m glad
you’re admitting it. Especially
considering.” “Considering
what?” Sayler asked. “Considering
what?” Monica exclaimed, wrinkling her brow.
“Considering you’re the one who wants to grow up, get a job
and marry her boss! Tell me
there’s no drama in that daydream!” Sayler
smiled and lay back in the grass once more.
She watched a heart-shaped cloud floating in the peaceful sky
overhead. “I
just read it in a book once…when I was younger,” Sayler explained.
“And…and it seemed so romantic.
I never said I wanted to…” “When
I was twelve, Monica,” Sayler reminded her best friend.
“I said that when I was twelve.” “Maybe,”
Monica said, stretching out on her back and starring up into the same
blue sky Sayler gazed into. “But
eighteen isn’t that far removed from twelve where daydreams are
concerned. And besides,
I’m your best friend…and best friends know when their best friend is
being serious. And
you…best friend of mine…were being serious when you said it.” Sayler
looked over at Monica and smiled. “Well,
you’re the one who’s been in love with my brother since practically
the day you were born!” Monica
laughed. “Okay!
Okay! I admit it!”
She frowned slightly. “But
seriously, Say…don’t ever tell him.
Please. I’ll swear never to tell anyone your random
fall-in-love-with-the-boss daydream if you swear never to tell my secret
fall-in-love-with-Christian Christy daydream.
I would die if Christian ever found out!
Even though I have loved him since birth!” “Deal,”
Sayler said, smiling. She
sighed, a great contented sigh—the sigh of youth and innocence and
summer serenity. Gazing up
into the sky once more, she said, “It looks just like a heart.”
She pointed to the heart-shaped cloud lazily drifting across the
azure canvas above them. “It
does,” Monica agreed. “But
you better get back to work. You’re
grandpa will chew up you and spit you out if you’re late again.” “Grandpa
wouldn’t,” Sayler said. “But
Denay and Fabiana would.” “Me
neither sometimes,” Sayler admitted.
She breathed a heavy sigh and wished Denay and Fabiana would quit
their jobs at her grandfather’s rehab center.
Fabiana hadn’t been so hard to take on her own, but once Denay
had started working at “But…you’re
right…I better get back,” Sayler said, standing up.
She retrieved her white and red vertical striped apron from the
grass, slipped the neck strap over her head and tied the sash at her
back. Monica
smiled. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing,” she giggled. Sayler
smiled with sarcasm and curtsied. “Sometimes
I do wish Grandpa would do away with the old,
‘traditional-candy-striper’s-apron,’ thing,” she said. “Oh,
but it’s so cute! And just
look at all those pockets!” Monica teased.
“Just be glad he doesn’t make you wear a white dress and
white orthopedic shoes, too.” “Totally!”
Sayler agreed, gathering up the remains of her sack lunch.
“Thanks for meeting me, Monie.
Have fun shelving books!” Monica
had landed a summer job at the public library and Sayler envied her at
times. The library was quiet
with one very kind elderly librarian who pretty much let Monica work
completely on her own. In
contrast to working with Denay and Fabiana at the Center, Monica’s
library job seemed pretty cushy. Still,
Sayler was grateful for her own job.
And it was a nice perk, seeing her grandpa every day.
Sayler’s
grandfather, Miles Rawlins, owned the Sayler’s
job included reading to patients, running small errands for them and
basically just keeping them company and seeing to their seemingly
trivial, but often very important, needs.
Denay, however, found ways to entirely annoy Sayler.
She’d interrupt her reading to patients to have her do some
meaningless errand for the staff, or implied Sayler was just a product
of nepotism, not serving any real service at the Center. But Sayler knew
the patients appreciated her. Their
faces always lit up when they saw her coming and her grandpa told her
many patients said the best part of the Center was the visits by the
little candy striper. Sayler
liked to help people. She
liked to make them smile, feel important, spread a little sunshine to
those who desperately needed it. People
like Denay and Fabiana had no concept of putting the happiness of others
before their own comfort or convenience.
And Sayler told herself, it was another legitimate reason for her
to endure their bad treatment of her…for the sake of the patients. And
so, tossing her scrunched up brown paper lunch sack into the trash can
at the back entrance of the Center, Sayler drew in a deep breath of
resolve and went back to work. “I’m
back,” Sayler told Denay as she passed the front desk of the physical
therapy wing. “You’re
late,” Denay said. She
didn’t even have the courtesy to look up at Sayler. “I’m
not,” Sayler said, quickening her step. “Hold
on,” Denay called, however. “We
need you to do something else. The
kids can wait.” Sayler
stopped, but paused before turning around to face Denay.
She always visited with the children in the physical therapy wing
after lunch. But, Denay was
her superior, so she slowly turned around, folded her arms across her
chest and waited for instruction. She
considered the nurse for a moment, her pinched face, her painted-on make
up. She couldn’t stand the
woman! Her hair, mousy-brown
as it was, was always perfectly in place, her beady blue eyes hidden by
too much mascara. “There’s
a new coma patient,” Denay told her.
“They brought him in while you were at lunch. He’s in room
116.” “116?
Why is he in this wing if he’s a coma patient?” Sayler asked.
“Shouldn’t he be over at the…” “We
weren’t expecting him yet. He
arrived early,” Denay interrupted.
“He’ll be in physical therapy until we get a room ready in
the coma wing later this afternoon.” “That’s
weird,” Sayler mumbled. “It’s
the way it is.” Denay said. “Here,”
she continued handing a tiny jar of lip balm to Sayler, “I don’t
know what kind of a facility he was in before, but it couldn’t have
been a very good one. He’s
got bed sores like you wouldn’t believe and dry skin and lips.
I’m busy…everybody’s busy…so I want you to put some of
this on his lips and then, read to him a bit.
Do you think you’re capable of doing that?”
Sayler nodded, trying to ignore Denay’s condescending manner.
“Anything else?” she asked, reaching over and retrieving her
book-bag from behind the counter.
“No…just the lip balm and the reading,” Denay answered.
“But be ready, Sayler,” she added, “it’s a sad case
because he’s so young. Looks
like he was really gorgeous, too. So
be prepared because I’m sure it will freak you out a bit.”
“I’ll be fine, Denay,” Sayler said.
Certainly it was hard for Sayler to work with the seriously
infirm, terminally ill or coma patients.
It broke her heart to see their lives coming to an end.
Often it caused her to tear-up, feel heavy-hearted. The way Denay
always made it sound like Sayler was too fragile, unable to handle it
somehow, just thoroughly perturbed her.
“I’m sure you will,” Denay said. Sayler turned and headed
toward the physical therapy wing.
She began seething. She
could not stand Denay Brandy! She
was so smug, radiated such an air of infinite superiority!
Sure, she was a nurse and five years older than Sayler, but it
gave her no right to be so patronizing and arrogant.
Because of Denay, Sayler was fairly livid with annoyance by the
time she reached the new patient’s room.
Still she paused for a moment before opening the door, inhaling
deeply and calming herself. Her
grandpa believed coma patients could sense so much of their environment,
even the character and mood of those tending to them.
It was important to enter the room with a calm, soothing
demeanor.
She opened the door and quietly stepped into the room.
She shook her head and smiled at herself.
She was always so careful to be quiet around the coma patients,
as if any sudden noise might disturb them, wake the up.
A man was lying on his back in the bed.
Sayler frowned, puzzled buy the lack of heart monitor, I.V. and
other equipment in the room. Surely
this patient should’ve had the necessary equipment needed to monitor
him, unexpected arrival or not. Shrugging
her shoulders, however, she passed the concern away.
She wasn’t any sort of medical worker and she knew everyone was
properly cared for at Rawlins Rehabilitation. Her
grandpa made sure of it.
As Sayler approached the man in the bed, she raised her eyebrows
and nodded with approval as she looked at him.
He was definitely very handsome.
Beyond handsome! Young,
too, just as Denay had said, and it did make her feel sad to know he
would most likely never be conscious again.
His hair was a warm dark brown, his jaw square and strong.
Sayler marveled at the healthy color in his face, the bronze of
his arms and shoulders. One
strong-looking hand rested on his perfectly sculpted chest.
Sayler surmised his comatose state must be fairly recent, for the
muscle tone of his body and healthy glow to his skin would not be
present in a long-termed patient. Sayler wondered why the staff had
covered him from only the waist down.
Further, why was he bare-chested?
Most coma patients were dressed in hospital gowns.
Still, it was nothing she knew the ins and outs of exactly, so
she sat her book-bag on a nearby chair and retrieved the jar of lip balm
from one of her many candy-striper-apron pockets.
She paused for a moment, somewhat unsettled as she looked at the
handsome, unconscious man. The
coma patients at the center always frightened her a bit.
Not because of their condition. More because she was constantly
expectant one might abruptly regain consciousness and startle her to
death. Many times she imagined a patient suddenly opening his or her
eyes, or gasping for breath as the darkness of coma released them.
Even though she knew it would never happen to her, she nervously
anticipated it.
Swallowing hard and inhaling a deep breath of courage, she opened
the jar of lip balm and pressed her finger into the soft,
petroleum-based salve.
“Your lips actually look fine, Mr….Mr...” she began in a
whisper. Glancing at the
name tag in the plastic sleeve on the side of the man’s bed she
continued, “Mr. Booker.” Placing
her balmy finger gently to his lips she said a bit louder, “But the
nurse said they were a little dry. This
ought to do the trick and then we can read a bit.
Maybe a little Green Eggs and Ham.
Everybody knows that one, and my grandpa says simple, familiar
books are best for people who…who are resting the way you are.”
Carefully, she smoothed the balm over the man’s soft lips.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Sayler gasped, her heart leaping into her throat at the deep
resonation of the man’s voice, the sudden opening of his eyes and his
strong grip at her wrist.
“Oh, my heck! Oh,
my heck!” she panted, completely distressed.
“You…you’re awake!”
“Well, I am now,” the man grumbled, glaring at her through
groggy, but entirely mesmerizing blue eyes.
“Oh, my heck! I…I
have to call someone!” Sayler said, trying to pull her wrist from the
man’s grasp. He was
terribly strong for someone reviving from a coma and he tightened his
grip as she said, “I can’t believe you’ve come out of it!”
“Come out of what?” the man grumbled, running one finger of
his free hand over his lips and looking at the lip balm left there.
“Out…out of your coma,” Sayler stammered.
He seemed incredibly literate and aware.
It usually took days, weeks, months for people to even be able to
communicate coherently at all. Sometimes
they never regained their speech and understanding.
“Coma?” the man said, frowning at her. “I broke both my
legs in car crash six weeks ago. I’m
here for physical therapy.”
“But…but the nurse told me…” Sayler stammered, unable to
finish her sentence. Realization
washed over her. Denay! Denay
had set her up! Set her up
to humiliate herself. Worse,
set her up to dreadfully disturb a patient.
“And what are you?” the man asked, his face softening. A
slight grin captured his alluring mouth as he studied her from head to
toe. “A giant candy
cane?”
Sayler used her free hand to smooth her red and white
vertical-striped apron. “No…no.
I…I work here. I’m
a…a…”
“A candy stripper,” he finished, chuckling.
The sound of his voice was incredible!
His smile was even more astounding.
He was undoubtedly the most handsome, good-looking, entirely
attractive man Sayler had ever seen in person.
“Candy striper,” Sayler corrected.
“Sayler!” Denay exclaimed, suddenly entering the room.
Fabiana Hoffman was hot on her heels, both of them struggling to
maintain serious expressions. “What
have you done? I cannot
believe you would disturb Mr. Booker like this!”
“But you told me…” Sayler began.
“I told you to check on the new coma patient…in the coma
wing, Sayler,” Denay lied. “Forgive
me, Mr. Booker,” Denay addressed the man then.
“She’s young, the owner’s granddaughter and not trained for
patient care.”
“Are you all right, Mr. Booker?” Fabiana asked.
She smiled at the man, tucking a strand of her ebony hair behind
one ear. Taking his free
arm, she pressed her fingers to his wrist as she looked at the watch on
hers. “Perhaps we should
check your blood pressure as well. Although,
you look just…just fine,” she added, winking flirtatiously at the
man.
“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, thought he was mocking her, too, until he
winked at her and gestured she should 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 boat-load 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
and 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 at them.
Once Denay and Fabiana left the room, Sayler looked to Mr.
Booker, words of apology began spilling from her.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Booker,” she told him.
“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 told him.
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 goosebumps 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 dependant,” 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, heard 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 at 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 was 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 would 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. Suess 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 head-long 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 goosebumps 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. Suess 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, 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 of all, 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.” 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! Join the Clean Romance Club to Read the Full Story
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Daydreams