Chapter 11
“I got this.” ~ Harper
Harper
“I don’t need your help,” I tell Kai for the millionth time.
He smiles at me, and I ignore how my stomach warms in response. Don’t you dare sprout butterflies now, stomach, or we will no longer be friends.
“Your chariot awaits, Daddy Poole.” He bows to my dad, and my dad? He actually chuckles.
“I don’t need a wheelchair,” he grumbles but there’s less anger in his voice than when I usually try to get him into a wheelchair.
“Sorry, daddy-o. It’s a hospital policy. Trust me. I know. I’m a regular here.” He winks and Dad settles himself in the wheelchair without any further complaints. What the hell? Is Kai a miracle worker?
Kai wheels Dad toward the exit, and I rush to follow them. “Wait. Our ride isn’t here yet.”
Kai motions to a large SUV. “Your ride has arrived. ”
“You don’t have to drive us home. I can order a ride from the ride-share app.”
Kai ignores me and helps Dad into the front seat of his SUV.
“Kai,” I growl as he passes me with the empty wheelchair. “I’m serious. We don’t need your help.”
“Harper Poole, I am well aware you can handle everything in your life on your own. But you don’t have to.”
I bristle. “I can handle everything.”
“I know, Slugger. I just said the same thing. Now, get in there before your dad commandeers my radio station.” He tweaks my nose before rushing off to return the wheelchair to the hospital.
I climb into the back seat. And I do mean climb. This SUV is made for giants. I’m barely five-foot-five-inches tall. Okay, fine. I’m actually five-three and a half.
“You have to have this gigantic vehicle,” I complain to Kai when he returns.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a gigantic man.” He winks at me via the rearview mirror and I groan. I forgot about his love of cheesy lines.
“We’re in Smuggler’s Rest on Pirate’s Lane,” I tell Kai when he begins to drive.
“I know where you live, Harper.”
“Are you two going to flirt the entire drive, or is a little quiet too much for an old man to ask?” Dad gripes.
“We are not flirting.”
Kai chuckles. “We’re totally flirting.”
“Your mom and I used to bicker all the time until she finally realized she loved me.”
“I thought you fell in love instantly.”
Dad grunts. “I did. Your mom took a bit of convincing.”
“I know what you mean,” Kai mumbles.
My heart gallops in my chest at his words. Is Kai actually serious about me? He’s a player. He picks up and drops women in the blink of an eye. He’s merely flirting with me because he thinks I’m playing hard to get. Or is he?
We arrive at our house and I rush inside to get Dad’s wheelchair.
“I don’t need a damn wheelchair,” Dad complains when I return.
I inhale a deep breath to calm my irritation before I lash out at Dad. I get it. He doesn’t want to be seen as weak. He used to be a big, strong construction worker before his stroke.
It’s been fifteen years but he still hasn’t adjusted to his situation. I can’t blame him. I wouldn’t adjust well to not having control over an arm and leg either.
“How else are you going to get into the house? You can’t use your cane.”
Dad glares at his broken arm and swears under his breath.
“I can carry you if you prefer,” Kai offers.
“I’m not a baby,” Dad mutters.
“Wheelchair it is then,” Kai says before placing Dad in the wheelchair. He rolls the chair to the front and frowns. “You have stairs.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious. ”
“I just thought…” He trails off. “Never mind.” He hoists Dad’s chair with Dad in it and carries it up the four steps.
My mouth gapes open. How the hell did he lift Dad and the chair? Together, they weigh more than two hundred pounds. I usually drag the wheelchair up the steps and am coated in sweat by the time I’m finished.
“Stop staring at my muscles and open the door, Slugger.”
“I wasn’t…” I clear my throat before I can finish the lie.
Of course, I was staring at his muscles. His biceps are bulging from his efforts, and his t-shirt is straining over his chest. When did little Kai – the brat who was always trying to sneak into Rumrunner before he was of age – grow those muscles?
I hurry to the front door and unlock it. Kai wheels Dad inside.
“I got this.” I nudge Kai out of the way and push Dad the rest of the way to his bedroom.
“I’m not a baby. I don’t need a nap.”
I wish I had time for a nap. But no one’s asking me.
“The doctor said you’d be tired from the pain meds.”
“I’m not…” A yawn cuts him off.
I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Fine. I’m tired. But it’s because of the pain meds. Not because I’m a baby.”
“Of course not.”
I help him into bed. “You good?”
His response? A snore. I guess he’s good .
I pause at the door to study him. In his sleep, he appears peaceful. Unlike when he’s awake and fighting me on every-damn-thing.
I shut the door behind me and tiptoe down the hallway. Dad’s usually a light sleeper. I never could get away with sneaking into the house late when I was a teenager.
I skid to a halt at the opening to the living room. Kai is sitting on the couch.
“What are you still doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me? Kai.” I sigh. “I can’t deal with any lame pick-up lines right now.”
He clutches his chest. “My pick-up lines are lame? Harsh.”
I roll my eyes. “What do you want?”
“I want to check how you’re doing.”
“Me?” I tap my chest. “I’m fine. I’m not the one who wrenched my shoulder out of the socket and broke my only useable arm.”
“I know you’re fine physically.” His gaze rakes over me and I lock my limbs before I squirm under his scrutiny. “But what about mentally? You have a lot going on.”
“Tell me about it,” I mutter.
“Come. Sit down.” He motions me forward. “I made you coffee.”
“You made me coffee?” He offers me a mug but I shake my head.
“It won’t bite you.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Unlike me.”
I grunt. “There’s Mr. Lame Pick-up Line. ”
“Got you to smile, though, didn’t I?”
I realize I am indeed smiling and scowl. “Whatever.” I snag the mug from him. “Huh. This isn’t bad.”
“Unless I poisoned you.”
“What?” I nearly spit out my coffee until I realize Kai’s laughing. “Can you ever be serious?”
“Yes.” He nods. “Let’s get serious. You need help.”
“Help? What do you mean?” I know exactly what he means, but my mind is too tired to think of another way to delay this conversation.
Kai motions down the hallway. “Your dad can’t get around on his own until his cast is off and his arm and shoulder are healed.”
“I know.”
“How are you going to manage the bar and be here for your dad?”
I bristle. This is my problem to solve. Not his. “I’ll figure something out. The neighbors usually pitch in to help.”
“You should hire a caretaker.”
I glare at him. “I’m not hiring a caretaker. Dad took care of Mom when she was sick. I can care for him.”
“It’s sweet you want to handle this on your own, but you don’t have to.”
Yes, I do. I can’t afford to hire a caretaker. I’m barely managing to pay my bills as it is.
“This isn’t any of your business.”
“You’re my friend, Harper. I care about you. I don’t enjoy seeing you struggle. ”
I ignore how warm and fuzzy the words ‘I care about you’ make me feel. It’s been too long since anyone said they cared about me. I can’t allow myself to be distracted. I won’t allow myself to be intimidated. I’ve got this.
“I’m not struggling. I’m managing.”
“No. You were managing. Your dad’s accident is not a little bump in the road. With both of his arms compromised, he can no longer cook, dress, or do any of the day-to-day tasks he used to handle.”
“What do you know about it?”
“I have five brothers who think daring each other is a sign of love. I can’t count the number of broken bones we’ve suffered. And when someone broke an arm or a leg, we stepped in to help each other. This is what families do.”
Nice for him. I don’t have any family besides Dad. It’s just the two of us.
“Which is what I’m doing. I’m helping my dad.”
He blows out a breath. “You also need help.”
I stand and walk to the door. “Thank you for your help today, but I’ve got it from here.” When he doesn’t move, I open the door.
“Stubborn woman,” he mutters before standing and marching to me. “Know this, Harper, I am not done with this conversation.”
“Too bad. I am.”
He scowls before kissing my hair and leaving .
I shut the door behind him and sink to the floor. What am I going to do? How am I going to manage the bar and take care of Dad?
Kai wants to help.
I ignore the thought. Kai will lose interest in me and my problems soon enough. The man’s a player. And what twenty-year-old wants to be saddled with my problems? None.