Page 12 of Sexy Claus

The amount of respect she had for Brenna grew tenfold. Most of the people she worked with started out small, like preparing a meal or going on an outing by themselves—which were terrific achievements soon after life-altering injuries and illnesses. Seldom did anyone aim high at the beginning of their journey, let alone for the long term.

She savored an unexpected rush of pride as she responded.“I’m beyond impressed. Practically speechless. I have no doubt you’ll accomplish all of them.”

A row of red hearts appeared a few seconds later.“Aw, shucks. Will be there in five minutes. I was told I need to sign some forms.”

“See you soon.”As Christy closed out of the records tab, something niggled at her. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but she’d missed an important bit of information about the case. She had learned to trust that feeling as a child, and her intuition never failed her.

The cursor sat in the middle of the emergency contact page, waiting for her to move the arrow, click on a different tab, or change data in the current form.

She absently read through the listed names, phone numbers, and relationship to the patient while her brain figured out what didn’t add up in her mind.

Sven Carlsen. Father. Otto and Maggie Carlsen. Grandparents.

Mother. Why isn’t her mother listed?

Was Sven widowed? Or had he suffered a contentious divorce?

Or she could have a job that doesn’t make her a good choice for an emergency contact.

Her future with the boy she’d loved had perished the day Christy had saved herself, and no amount of yearning would bring it back to life.

“Here you go. Enjoy your first session.” With a bright smile, the office manager motioned for Brenna to enter the room.

“Hi, Christy.” Brenna wheeled her chair into the room past her escort, her coat and gloves on her lap. “I know I’m early, but I had a book to pick up at the library and my dad has a two-o’clock appointment. It was easier for him to drop me off than reschedule.”

Relegating her pointless speculations to the part of her brain with a padlock, Christy waved the young woman forward. “No worries. I was just catching up on your medical history. Are you ready to get started?”

“Ready and willing.” Using the more efficient arm motions they’d talked about when they met, Brenna crossed to the fully functional kitchen. “How does this work? Am I learning to use normal counters first?”

“Today we’ll be practicing with standard-height countertops since you need some training until you have ADA-compliantcounters.” Christy pressed the down button on the control pad and released it when the main unit reached its lowest setting. “I’ll also introduce you to the lower ones you’ll have after your renovations are done.”

“Wow! This is so cool.” Staring toward the setup of a built-in stovetop, accessible sink, and a dozen other top-of-the-line features that raised and lowered, Brenna backed up, withdrew her cell from her purse, and snapped several pictures. “I need the name of the company where I can order the whole setup. I’ve missed cooking so much.”

“Of course. I’ll get the printout with information on this manufacturer and a few others while you hang up your coat and see what’s in all the drawers and cabinets. Be right back.” The trip to the front desk gave Christy time to shove her feelings about Sven and the past a little deeper into their locked box. She had a job to do—a job she loved.

The next two hours passed quickly as she guided Brenna through several methods to adapt and be proficient in a typical and a chair-friendly kitchen, as well as helping her practice wheelies. Nothing seemed to be too much of a challenge for her all-time favorite client.

Christy retrieved the vegetable and cheese trays and the batch of peanut butter no-bake cookies they’d prepared from the refrigerator and placed them in a bag. “Great job. What’s your most useful takeaway from today’s session?”

“Bigger isn’t necessarily better.” Brenna’s wide grin and giggle-snort lit up her face. “I had a lot more leverage when I was cutting at the table than I did at the higher counter. Oh, and taste-testing is always allowed when making cookies.”

The young woman’s witty sense of humor drew a laugh from Christy. “And at least half of tonight’s supper is ready.”

“Actually, I was thinking… I’m in the mood for Mexican food, and there’s this place on the other side of town that has amazingfajitas. Are you busy tonight?” Brenna looked up at her with a hopeful smile.

“I don’t want to intrude if you and your family have plans.” Fishing for information wasn’t her style, but the words came out before Christy could control her mouth. She absolutely did not want to know the specifics of her former boyfriend’s personal life. Interacting with him during the walk-through of her late father’s house had already caused enough conflicting feelings and unwanted thoughts.

“You won’t be intruding. I promise. It’s just Dad and me. I don’t have a mom or any brothers or sisters. Well, I have a biological mom, of course, but she and my dad weren’t dating anymore when she found out she was pregnant. She planned to give me up for adoption, but he wanted me. So, long story short, she’s not in the picture. Never has been, which is totally okay with me. One awesome parent is better than a hundred bad ones. Do you have any kids?”

Christy’s vision wavered and she clutched the table to keep her balance. Brenna had one parent, like she had, but the similarities evidently ended there. Sven had willingly accepted his role as father and supported his daughter in every way.

Just Dad and me. Funny how that can be the best or the worst possible thing.

She sucked in a slow breath to steady the shifting floor and shook her head. “No. No husband. No kids.”

I have no one.

“That’s too bad. I bet you’d make a terrific mom.” A chirp sounded, and Brenna flipped over the phone on her lap. “My ride’s here. Please say you’ll come. I’ll text you the details.”

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