Page 36 of From the Start

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’retotally 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.