“Hmmm.” He’s peering back at me with the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen on a man and a deep dimple creasing his right cheek. Jeez Louise, he’s cute. Lucy’s going to gobble him up. “Sure you don’t mean a nurse named Ivy?”
“You two will be perfect together,” I say, ignoring his last comment. “I know these things. Matchmaking is in my blood. I did an ancestry project back in high school and discovered not one, but two, official matchmakers in my genealogy pool. I’ve been setting couples up since middleschool. I could name at least sixteen couples just off the top of my head who are married because of me.”
I can feel his blue eyes watching me as I unsnap the sleeves of his gown to figure out which lead isn’t picking up. “Lucy worked as a phlebotomist before she became a nurse. Trust me, she’s going to take one look at your veins and fall head over heels.”
“If good veins aren’t the foundation for everlasting love, I don’t know what is. But what about you?”
“Me?” I continue searching for the missing lead. His chest and abdomen have the classic seat belt sign. Bruises and contusions in the pattern of a seat belt from when it locked on him during his recent car accident. The bruises I don’t mind. It’s the muscles I’m trying hard to ignore.
“I don’t see a ring on your finger,” Beau says, his voice much too soft and close to my ear. “Does that mean the matchmaker needs help finding her own match?”
“It means I already know my perfect match. Which is why I’ve got a plan and I’m sticking to it.” There. Red lead has come unclipped. I clip it back in place, then twist to make sure the green wave for his heart rate reappears on the monitor.
“Tell me the plan. I need a distraction.”
“It’s three in the morning. You need sleep.” We all need sleep.
But since this conversation is the most awake I’ve felt all night, I tug a chair closer to his bedside and sit. “Fine. My plan is to work like a dog in my twenties. Marry a nice man in my thirties. Then settle down to raise a few kids while I work as a school nurse until I retire.”
“Does this future husband of yours have to meet any certain criteria other than being nice?”
“He needs to be a teacher. That way we’ll have the same work schedule, plus all our evenings, weekends, and summers free to be with the kids.”
“What happens when you fall in love with me first?”
I blast out a short trumpet laugh. “To semi-quote one of my favorite literary heroines,You, Beau Wall, are the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.”
“Ever? Ouch. What have you got against baseball players?”
“Not just baseball players. All athletes. My dad coaches football, my brother plays hockey. Trust me when I say I don’t want anything to do with athletes or the lifestyle that comes with it. Give me a teacher any day.”
“Even a teacher with bad veins?”
“His work schedule will make up for his poor vasculature system, I’m sure.”
“It’s the neck brace, isn’t it? You don’t think I can kiss adequately without any neck rotation.”
“Here’s Lucy’s contact information.” I grab the menu off Beau’s bedside table so I can write her name and number down. Time to get out of here so I can do some charting—and not think about Beau’s capability in the kissing department.
“I think you’d be surprised what I can do with my lips even while my neck is immobilized.” He apparently wants me to keep thinking about his capability in the kissing department.
I scribble faster. “Call her. She’s just your type. And your mom is going to absolutely adore her too.” In fact I may just go ahead and send his mom a little text later simply saying I’ve got a good feeling her prayers are going to be answered this Christmas.
Beau frowns at the menu I shove into his hands. Before I can escape out the door, he says, “Wait, wait, wait. Let’s make a deal. How about I agree to call up your friend Lucy if you agree to promise me one thing first?”
“I’m not promising anything, but I’m listening.”
“When you fall in love with me—”
And now I’m done listening. I turn for the door.
“Hey, hey, hey. Hear me out or I’m taking this collar off.”
I fold my arms and hit him with my best you-better-not expression.
“All I want is for you to promise that when you fall inlove with me, you’ll scrap your plan about only marrying a teacher.”
I’m not scrapping the plan. Marrying a teacher has been the plan since I came up with it in middle school. Since my parents divorced. Since I vowed I’d never have anything to do with athletes, sports, or unreliable work schedules when it comes to my future husband. “Beau, listen to me. There’s no way I’m falling in love with you, because there’s no way I would ever even date you.”
