Could Be Something Good

by Fiona West

  “Yeah, but why would you bring him up in the boyfriend context?”

  “He . . . he likes me, I think.” It seemed politer than “he’s obviously very infatuated with me.” That would come off as prideful.

  “Smart boy.”

  “He’s too young for me, though. He’d be in it for the short term, and I don’t have any interest in that. Still kind of a kid at heart.” Which I shouldn’t like about him, but . . .

  “He’s legal, isn’t he?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Grandpa. It’d be tough to be in residency if you weren’t eighteen. I think he’s twenty-four.”

  “Aw, that’s nothing. Plus, he can fix our universal remote when the batteries fall out.”

  “He’s actually really bad with technology. I had to show him how to take his phone off ‘do not disturb’ the other day.”

  “Always finding little reasons to talk to you, is he?”

  Winnie blinked. Was he? Now that she thought about it, it didn’t make sense at all that he didn’t know how to do that.

  “We’re just friends. I’m sure Dr. Baker wouldn’t approve.”

  “She’s good at disapproving. Don’t let it get to you, honey.”

  Tears unexpectedly sprang to Winnie’s eyes. “I’ll try,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE NEXT DAY WAS ODDLY slow. She was supposed to have two appointments this morning, but they both canceled. Without overthinking it, she wandered into family medicine and took in the stack of work to be done. Yes, she was a midwife, but she was also still a nurse. She could give them a hand if she had time.

  “What are you doing still here?” Martina asked, claiming a rolling chair.

  “Just wanted to give you a hand.”

  “We’re short because of the Ralston wedding, the one in town. Everyone wanted time off, no one made sure we were covered . . .”

  Winnie sighed. “That reminds me, I still need a date to that wedding.”

  “Your professor’s?”

  She nodded. “I really should go. And I do want to, I just . . .”

  “Need arm candy first.”

  “Exactly. I mean, I could take my cousin, probably.”

  “Do not take your cousin. I mean it, Winnie. It’s a no go.”

  “Hey!” Daniel’s voice made her spin around. “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing yet. You?”

  “Just finished a well-child visit. He’s gonna need shots. I hate giving little kids shots.”

  Winnie blinked at him. Doctors didn’t give shots. Doctors had more important things to do. “Why would you give his shots?”

  “Your mom insists it’s good experience. Plus, everybody’s crazy busy today. I can do it. I just don’t like it.”

  Winnie peeked at the chart he was holding and winced. “He’s five? Those are the worst. They know what’s coming.”

  “Like cows who won’t get in the chute.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Never mind. Farm analogy.”

  Winnie put one hand on her hip. “Did you grow up on a farm? You don’t wear enough John Deere or Dickies clothing for that.”

  “No, but my classmates did. And they assured me that some cows know when it’s slaughter time. Cows that don’t mind lining up on any old Monday are digging in their hooves on Friday.”

  “Are cows slaughtered on a Friday?”

  He slapped down the chart in faux exasperation. “I don’t know, Fred, I make things up, okay? It’s funnier that way.” He turned to face her. “Will you help me distract him? It’s better with two people.” Was he . . . ? Yes, he was. Daniel Durand was giving her the doe eyes like a darn Disney prince, and those eyelashes totally worked for him.

  “You’re pathetic. Who are you sticking?”

  “Jackson Vallens.”

  She didn’t even try to stop the way her heart went Technicolor. “Oh, I was there when he was born at OHSU. He was one of my first deliveries.”

  Daniel flicked his wrist forward, pantomiming casting a fishing line, hooking Winnie and reeling in slowly.

  She rolled her eyes, but his antics did make her and Martina laugh. “Fine. I’ll help you, but just for a minute, and only because I’d very much enjoy seeing Kelly and Jackson again.”

  “Nurse Baker, you’re my hero.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  Martina was giving her heart eyes and making a kissing face, but thankfully, he didn’t notice as he led the way to Jackson’s room and knocked. Kelly’s smooth, even voice paused, momentarily abandoning the book they were reading, to call, “Come in.”

  Jackson’s anxiety was obvious as he clutched a shaggy brown bear with a red ribbon around its neck, sitting on his mom’s lap.

  “Hi, Mrs. Vallens, hi, Jackson. I’m Dr. Durand. Sorry for the wait,” Daniel said, “we’re short-staffed today. Lots of people out sick with the flu.” Most doctors only greeted the parents; he’d greeted Jackson as well, she noticed.

  “It’s been awful this year, hasn’t it?” Kelly commented. A smile split her face when she saw Winnie. “Well, hello, stranger! How’ve you been? Jackson, say hi to Miss Winnie, she was there when you were born.”

  Jackson mumbled a greeting as his mother shifted him off her lap to give Winnie a one-armed hug.

  “Small world, isn’t it?” Winnie smiled, returning her hug. “It’s great to see you.” She turned her attention back to Daniel, who was giving her a meaningful look she couldn’t interpret. He tipped his head toward the waiting tray, and she rolled her eyes. Apparently, being the nurse in the room meant it was her job to prep everything. Sigh. She pulled out the alcohol wipes as Daniel chatted with the boy about the book they’d interrupted: Llama Llama Mad at Mama. Yes, Winnie chuckled inwardly, he will probably be mad at you after this. They only had two shots to do, a DPT booster with varicella and a flu shot. They could each take a side and get it over twice as quickly . . .

  “Jackson, do you sleep on your side or on your back?” Daniel asked, sitting in the rolling chair and pulling himself over to the boy with his heels.

  “On my side,” he said, rubbing his arm, as if trying to protect it from the mean old doctor.

  “Which one?” Daniel asked. “Because I want to put your shots in the other arm so you can sleep really good tonight, okay? Can you show me which arm is against the bed?”

  Jackson’s eyebrows dipped as he considered this, then lifted his left arm.

  “Is that right, Mom?” Daniel asked, and Kelly shrugged.

  “I think so, but honestly, I never noticed.”

  “That’s okay, we’ll take his word for it,” Daniel said. “Nurse Baker, would you come on this side for me? Mom, can you sit on the exam table with Jackson on your lap?” They scooted and slid past each other, the exam room feeling smaller than it really was, until they’d reordered themselves as he’d requested. When everyone had settled into place, Daniel stood in front of Jackson, his legs braced open wide. This was a prime kicking moment, but somehow, he wasn’t sensing the danger this posed to some very sensitive parts of his body, and he continued to swab a wide swatch of Jackson’s arm, oblivious. Winnie bit the inside of her lip. Should she say something? If he got kicked in the crotch, she’d feel responsible. Yes, it was his crotch, but she’d have seen it coming. It was like not telling a friend when they had spinach in their teeth, only a hundred times worse. But she didn’t want him thinking that she was thinking about his crotch—except she kind of was. But in a friendly way, not in a sexy way.

  “Wait,” she blurted. “Kelly, cross your legs over Jackson’s legs, would you? Just in case.”

  Kelly looked perplexed, but did so, holding her son’s arms and legs still. The caps came off, the needles went in, and just as Winnie had predicted, Jackson bucked and squirmed, shouting his displeasure, his thrashing foot still catching Daniel in the knee.

  “I’m so sorry,” Kelly said, obviously chagrined, as Daniel rubbed his leg.

  “No worries. War wounds are part
of the job,” he joked. Yet it was obvious by the tension around his mouth, despite his forced smile, that Jackson had landed his blow in the same spot as Daniel’s cycling injury. It was going to hurt tomorrow, too. Maybe he’d like some of her helichrysum rub . . . Wait, no. That would be inappropriately forward. He could take care of himself. But as she watched him pretend his leg didn’t smart like the dickens, a surge of tenderness toward the man rose within her; she felt a stomachache forming, hating his pain as much as if it were her own. Surprised at herself, she left Daniel to finish up with Kelly as he reminded her to watch for signs of a bad reaction. Across the hall, she ducked into the supply room, her heart beating fast. It wouldn’t take long for him to be called away, distracted. But when she heard the door quietly open and snick shut behind her, Winnie knew she was caught.

  “Hiding again, Fred?”

  “And why would I do that?” She tried valiantly to keep her voice steady, but when she felt his heat behind her, she knew she’d failed.

  “You knew how he was going to react. You tried to save me, Winnie Baker.”

  She rearranged several bottles of isopropyl alcohol that were already stored very neatly. “It’s called professional courtesy.”

  “Yes, thinking about how to prevent my genitals from getting kicked is a very professional line of thinking.”

  Despite having her back to him, she lifted her chin defiantly. “Wouldn’t you do the same for me?”

  “Oh, Winnie,” he murmured. “You’ve no idea what I’d do for you, if you asked me to. I just wanted you to know you don’t have to try and hide how good your heart is; it’s obvious. Your thoughtfulness touches everyone around you, including me.” She wished she could see his face. Then she’d know if this was just a line or sincerity . . . It felt like sincerity. His knuckles skirted over her upper arm, but when she didn’t react, the touch disappeared. She was still trying to recover from shock when he silently slipped out of the closet, closing the door behind him.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE NEXT DAY, WINNIE sat down at her desk in the nurses’ station. Without meaning to, she glanced up at the clock—1:52. Perfect timing. When she looked down, there was a cylindrical white box on the desk the size of a soft drink. Someone had attached a printed label to it that said, “Winnie Baker, open me.” She glanced around, but everyone seemed preoccupied by their own responsibilities. Furtively, she cracked the lid, and what she saw made her grin: A Thor bobblehead, holding his tiny hammer. On a hot-pink sticky note fixed to the inside of the lid, Daniel had somehow printed out a typed message:

  Thank you for your heroic protection the other day. You’re welcome in Asgard anytime. Hope this guy can make you smile when I’m not around.

  –D

  Right on schedule a few minutes later, Daniel Durand came wandering down the hallway and leaned on the counter. “Did you get my present?”

  “I did.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “He doesn’t have your sense of style, but I suppose he’s a suitable stand-in. He’s certainly as hardheaded as you.”

  Daniel didn’t respond, and she looked up to find him staring at her, his gaze soft. Those long eyelashes, his blond stubble, the faint scent of cinnamon that seemed to follow him had her grinning . . . I shouldn’t be encouraging this. The reasons why were escaping her when faced with his pretty eyes. Young? Right, young. Plus, he’d probably be out of here the minute he found out what a liar I am. Chiding herself, she broke away from the moment, putting her eyes back on her paperwork.

  “Fred, are you familiar with the Egyptian plover?”

  She raised an eyebrow without looking up, then went back to her paperwork without answering. Must avoid pretty eyes. Avoid! Avoid!

  “My grandma, you see,” he continued, “she was crazy about birds, so she was always making us read about them and go birding. But that was lame, because my favorite bird was the Egyptian plover, which, of course, is rarely seen in Oregon.”

  “I’d be willing to bet it’s never seen in Oregon.”

  “Smart lady.” He grinned. “Do you want to know why it’s my favorite?”

  “Not really,” she said, but she knew he saw the corner of her mouth flexing as she fought a smile.

  “There’s no modern corroboration, but they say Egyptian plovers will find crocodiles with their mouths open and hop in there to grab a quick meal of the meat between their teeth.”

  Winnie set down her pen and folded her hands in her lap. “What are you trying to say, Dr. Durand?”

  “I’m saying don’t bite my head off, and maybe I’ll go with you to that thing.”

  “Thing? What thing?”

  He gestured vaguely in the air between them. “The wedding thing. I heard you talking to Martina.” She gave him her full attention. He certainly fit the part that she was looking for: arm candy. Successful, charming arm candy to parade around in front of Ethan. But she barely knew Daniel. She should just take her cousin Harrison. Yes, Ethan would know who he was, but no one else would.

  “Eavesdropping is a terrible habit.”

  “Can’t argue with you, but the point remains that there’s potential mutual benefit here, croc.” She didn’t mind being the predator in the analogy, but something was still missing. He was far too young to truly be interested in her for more than just a fling.

  “What’s in it for you?” she asked.

  “Pardon?”

  “Well, to use your analogy, the plover’s getting a meal. What are you getting?”

  “Besides the pleasure of your company for an evening? I had assumed there would be food at this thing . . . Is there not food? If there’s no food, I’m out.”

  Her furrowed expression just deepened. “You’re serious?”

  “As late-stage pancreatic cancer.”

  “That’s a very insensitive simile.”

  “I love a woman who knows her literary devices.” He grinned. “Come on, it’ll be fun. I’m a good dancer. I won’t get drunk and embarrass you. I look great in a tux, and I already own one.” He threw out his arms as he backed away from the station slowly and turned, as if showing himself off. He needn’t have bothered; she’d spent a fair amount of time cataloguing his best features already. Not that she would ever admit that unless under pain of death.

  “Just think about it,” he said, then he hurried down the hall to catch up with his residency group, who were already gathering for their lecture.

  And to her surprise, she was. She was thinking about it, even if Bobblehead Thor was shaking his head at her.

  “HAVE YOU THOUGHT ABOUT my offer?” Daniel leaned over the nurses’ station a few days later, tapping Thor’s head to make it wobble. He was finding it hard to be patient, waiting for her verdict to come down. He wanted to dance with her, drink with her . . . He’d probably stick to Sprite, but still. Their interaction in the closet was still fresh in his mind; he thought maybe he’d backed off too quickly. Or maybe he’d come on too strong? He didn’t know how to do slow, and it was messing with his mojo.

  “Yes,” Winnie replied, and his heart leaped until she continued. “But I think our age difference could pose a problem. I don’t want people commenting on it.”

  “Age is just a state of mind.”

  “Spoken like someone young.”

  “Oh, come on. You’re acting like you’re Father Time and I’m the New Year’s baby.”

  “Having as much experience with babies as I do, you’ll forgive me if I can’t help but note the similarities.”

  Daniel leaned forward on his elbows, resting his chin in his hand. “Oh, really? Is it my soft skin? Do I smell like powder? Do tell.”

  Her cheeks went pink. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Me?” He laughed. “You’re the one who won’t give me the time of day just because we were born in slightly different decades.”

  “Yes,” she said, slapping her charts down onto the counter, “different decades. I’m so much older than you, I’m surprised I can even u
nderstand what you’re saying.”

  Goading her was too easy, not to mention fun.

  “Spill the tea, girl.” He grinned. “Am I too basic for you?”

  “Ugh.” Winnie turned and headed back toward the elevators.

  No, don’t run off like that . . .

  “Damn, Gina! Why you gotta be so salty?” he called after her.

  “Dr. Durand.” At the cold sound of Dr. Baker’s voice, Daniel spun, chagrined. “There are patients attempting to recuperate nearby. Please lower your voice to a decent volume.”

  He shoved his hands deep into his coat. “I apologize, Dr. Baker.”

  She sauntered closer, and he recognized the move as one that Winnie shared. It reminded him of a lioness stalking her prey.

  “I notice you’re spending more time socializing with my daughter lately.”

  He didn’t want to lie, but a creeping sense of foreboding stole over him. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she said, drawing out the word to make perfectly clear how she disdained his diction. “And her name is Winifred, not Gina.”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am, I know her name, that phrase means . . . it means something else.” Her skeptical glare did make him feel like the New Year’s baby. “It’s a TV reference,” he said, resisting the urge to flee.

  “Is it?” It didn’t sound like a question, really, so he stayed quiet. When it came to Dr. Baker, he really thought his best bet was just not talking unless called upon to do so. When Dr. Trout distracted her, Daniel slipped away.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  IT WAS 11:30 A.M. WINNIE had been called in to assist with a difficult birth early that morning, and she wasn’t watching where she was going. She’d been kicked, pinched, scratched and screamed at already today, and she was done. Outside the locker rooms, she ran into Daniel.

  “Geez, you can’t swing a stethoscope around here without hitting a hospital employee named Durand.”

  “Small-town hazard.” He grinned. “Are you going to have lunch with your mom before you go?”