then turned in his chair. She’d changed into skin tight leggings that stopped at her knees and a clingy pale pink tank top with straps too skinny to cover those from her purple bra. When she saw him looking she shrugged as if to say, “It’s all I had with me. Deal with it.” From the heterosexual male point of view she looked fantastic. Plus now he wouldn’t have to explain why she didn’t have a change of clothes with her. A win-win.
She’d washed off the mascara that’d smudged around her eyes in the night, so pretty, even without makeup. Her hair was set in a loose braid draped over her right shoulder. She looked so much softer and more approachable than her ultra-serious professional business portrait on the website. Who was the real Kira?
“Come,” Dad said, motioning to the table with a spatula. “Sit down and eat before it gets cold.”
“Wow.” Kira took the chair across from him. “This looks delicious.”
“I was hoping you weren’t one of those ‘just coffee for breakfast’ types.” Dad sat down between them. “Dig in.” He handed the spatula to Kira. “Don’t be shy.”
Derrick watched as she served herself a small helping of eggs and one strip of bacon, wondering if she was one of those ‘just coffee for breakfast’ types. Speaking of which. “Can I pour you a cup of coffee? From the pot both my dad and I are drinking out of?” He added that last part because it was obvious she didn’t trust him. Really, why should she?
“I’d love a cup.” She offered him a sweet albeit fake smile. “With a splash of milk from the same container you and your father are using,” she added, giving it right back to him. He kind of liked that.
“Well, I gotta hand it to you, boy,” Dad said. “Whatever you said to that evil Peniglatt woman at the insurance company, really worked.”
Derrick swung around and cautioned, “Dad. Kira doesn’t want to hear about your problems with the insurance company.”
The topic of discussion, who sat ramrod straight at the moment, placed her napkin in her lap somewhat stiffly. “On the contrary,” she said, looking straight at him in challenge. “I’d like to hear whatever your dad has to say.”
Why had he traveled down to the city yesterday? Why had he brought Kira home with him? Why? Why? Why? Derrick hurried back to the table, determined to change the subject.
“My wife, Daisy, had a stroke, you see,” Dad said as he loaded his plate with eggs and bacon.
“How is Mom doing this morning,” Derrick asked. “Last I checked she was sleeping.”
“I walked her to the bathroom earlier.” Dad looked at Kira. “She’s weak and gets real tired real easy. So she went back to sleep after. Which reminds me.” He turned his head to Derrick. “We’re getting a shipment of medical equipment this morning. So eat up quick. We may have to move some furniture around.”
“Medical equipment?” Derrick asked Kira.
But Dad answered. “Like I was saying, after you let that insurance company witch have it, she got right on the ball and sent out a new nurse from a different agency to visit your mama late yesterday afternoon. A real good one. Stayed for over an hour.”
Derrick looked at Kira.
“You must have given it to her but good,” she said, staring straight at Derrick as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.
“It’s him being a doctor,” Dad said around a mouthful of eggs. “Them insurance company types stand up and listen when a doctor starts talking.”
“That must have been it.” Kira shifted in her seat, reaching for her glass to take a sip of orange juice. “She couldn’t possibly have investigated the situation, identified a problem and fixed it.” She leaned in Derrick’s direction. “You’re a hero.” Her words dripped with sarcasm...which apparently his dad missed.
“Yes he is,” Dad said proudly. “Took on that heartless beast and won.”
Derrick wanted to crawl under the table and become one with the floorboards.
If a stare could actually burn a hole in someone’s head, Derrick would have one right between the eyes, courtesy of Miss Kira Peniglatt.
“Dad—” Derrick started, prepared to explain everything.
“Don’t you ‘Dad’ me.” Dad turned to Kira. “He is a hero. He saves lives. Lots of ’em. He’s a good man who knows how to treat a woman right. Taught him how myself, I did.” Dad actually puffed out his chest. Then he pointed at Kira with his fork. “He’s a good catch. Any woman would be lucky to have him.”
“So lucky,” Kira repeated with a smirk.
Derrick lost his appetite. “Stop it, Dad. I don’t need a matchmaker.” All he needed was to survive this morning without Dad finding out Kira’s true identity, tolerate her long enough to get her home safely, and then get back to his normal, uneventful life, where he was in control of things...at least where he used to be in control of things.
When someone knocked on the door, Derrick jumped up to answer, happy beyond belief to escape the breakfast table.
The next two hours flew by in a whirl of activity as two deliverymen from the durable medical equipment company showed up. Kira took control, ordering around four grown men with the effectiveness of a five star general. No one dared question her.
The woman was a sight to behold, in her element, knowledgeable, efficient and concise. Damn he needed someone like her in his office someone to take charge and get things running smoothly.
“She’s really something,” Dad said, blotting his brow with his ever present cotton handkerchief.
“Yes she is.” Derrick watched her take on a man who outweighed her by at least two hundred pounds, refusing to accept a wheelchair because one of the wheel brakes didn’t work to her satisfaction. “We need a replacement before the end of the day,” she said.
“Sure thing, Kira,” the man said, respect evident in his tone.
“I’ll be calling Al on Monday to let him know how hard you both worked today and how accommodating you were.” With a twenty dollar incentive for each of them, the deliverymen helped Derrick move the couches, a bed, a TV stand plus TV, and an old shelving unit packed with knickknacks so his father didn’t have to do any heavy lifting. And Kira had gotten right in there to help, boxing up papers, sweeping up dust from the old wood floors after the furniture was moved, and making up the big hospital bed now sitting in the living room.
“Who’s Al?” Dad asked.
“I have no idea.”
“You didn’t tell me she was a nurse.”
A damn good one at that, an amazing one, actually. When Dad balked about them putting the hospital bed in the living room rather than in an upstairs bedroom, Kira spoke calmly and convincingly, warning him of the safety hazard of having Mom in an upstairs bedroom when she couldn’t walk or manage stairs on her own. How would he get her out of the house if there was a fire? She pointed out having Mom on the main level of the house would mean less trips up and down the stairs to alleviate Dad’s knee and hip discomfort. Derrick
