Page 68 of Cloud Nine Love

“Because I knew you wouldn’t have one,” she explained, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

I pulled out a blue polo shirt with a small gold Panther’s head logo on the chest, a windbreaker with a gold capital P on it, a blue baseball cap that read Panthers Football in gold writing, and a whistle.

“What is this?”

“You mean, who is this? It’s Coach Taylor, from Friday Night Lights.”

My eyes shot to hers. Did she know? Had Taylor said something? I could tell immediately she had no clue about the connection.

“Go, get changed.” She shooed me away. “They’re gonna be here any second.”

I took the bag down the hall to the bathroom and pulled off my shirt. After putting on the polo, blazer, windbreaker, and hat, I looked in the mirror and smiled. Taylor was going to have a panic attack when she saw me.

As I came out of the bathroom, I heard the front door open, and Ruby exclaim, “Harp! You are the prettiest mermaid I’ve ever seen!”

When I walked around the corner, I saw that Harper was dressed as Ariel, The Little Mermaid. She had on a long red wig, a purple tail, and a green top. Taylor was dressed in blue scrubs and a white lab coat, which, like Kane, I felt was cheating, but damn, it worked for me. She looked so fucking sexy.

“Hey,” I said, announcing my presence.

Taylor, Ruby, Kane, and Harper all looked in my direction. The second Taylor saw me, her jaw dropped in shock.

“Oh, my gosh!” Ruby clapped her hands together. “You look just like him! It was between that and Maverick from Top Gun. I’m so glad I got Coach Taylor.”

“You got him that costume?” Taylor asked.

“Yeah. Have you seen Friday Night Lights? Remi looks just like Kyle Chandler. Don’t you think?”

Taylor didn’t respond verbally; she just nodded her head.

Ruby turned toward me. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like him?”

I grinned. “Yeah, actually. One person has.”

Even though my eyes were on Ruby as I answered her, I could see Taylor’s cheeks getting flushed. I’d been on the fence about trick-or-treating, but I was very glad I’d come. This was going to be fun.

30

TAYLOR

“On Halloween, fifty-five percent of E.R. visits are pumpkin carving related, and twenty-five percent are due to tripping on costumes.” ~ Tim Rhodes

I closed the door to my locker and headed out to the parking garage. Exhaustion pulled at me as I counted the minutes until I’d be home in my bed. From the time I clocked in eighteen hours ago, I hadn’t had a moment to breathe.

Halloween, just like any holiday, was always one of the craziest nights in the E.R., and this year was no different. We’d had a half dozen or so pedestrians hit by cars, and another half dozen who were involved in drunk driving collisions. There was a vampire with alcohol poisoning. A clown whose wig caught on fire when he was trying to stick his head in a pumpkin that had a candle in it. A French maid who was inebriated and decided to race her friend down the street. She tripped and broke her right arm and left ankle. A four-year-old who had a large jelly bean stuck up in his nasal cavity. And a plethora of other costume-and-candy-related injuries.

Thankfully, there hadn’t been any fatalities, and the night was nothing if not entertaining.

Normally, when I was at work, I shut off the other parts of my brain. I didn’t think about Harper or anything else. I was one hundred percent focused on what I was doing. Tonight, however, despite the colorful characters and busy schedule, I hadn’t been able to shut off my brain from the outside world. Specifically, Remi Rhodes dressed as Coach Taylor, and he had tattoos.

He was literally my fantasy come to life.

The man was like an earworm; but instead of a song, all I could do was replay every moment we’d shared together while trick-or-treating—every word we spoke, every look we exchanged, every touch we shared. It was on a constant loop.

There hadn’t been a ton of interaction—an arm brush, a stolen glance—and once, he leaned down and whispered in my ear that my scrubs were inspiring more fantasies for him. Those words had been playing like a broken record in my head, and I couldn’t shut it off.

Never in my life had my brain gotten the better of me. I was the Queen of Compartmentalization. So, the fact that, no matter what I did, I could not stop thinking about Remi was equal parts frustrating and infuriating.

If he were back in California, I’d be well on my way to detoxing him out of my system. But, at Harper’s birthday, I got the impression that he planned on sticking around for a while. I didn’t blame him. His mom needed support.

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