Page 2 of Just For Her

Luckily, there was no such pain. Only a man in a three-piece suit and a countenance that suggested he didn’t make a habit of ramming young women with his BMW.

“Are you okay?” He knelt, careful not to touch his pants to the ground. The lights of his car continued to shine above Kayla’s head, the wooshing of windshield wipers adding a strange beat to the situation. A mild ache appeared in the depths of Kayla’s mind.A concussion? Please, no.

Perhaps this moment was meant to be, though. After all, this man was young looking. And handsome. And possiblyrich.

“I’m fine.” Kayla adopted her clearest, most feminine voice as she sat up far enough to face the young man. The first thing she noticedwasn’tthe clean-shaven visage or the whiff of Dior cologne that she only recognized because it was similar to what an ex wore. No, it was the absence of any ring on this man’s left hand. That told Kayla to put more “distress” into her damsel act. “I… I think….”

There was no time to feel silly. Not when this man looked around the street before offering to help Kayla up to her feet. She gestured to the shoe she could not quite reach. With the umbrella balanced over one charcoal gray sleeve, the man grabbed Kayla’s kitten heel. He did not, however, help her put it on.

“I’m so sorry. IswearI didn’t see you.” He took her by both hands and slowly helped her up to her feet. Although Kayla did not feel dizzy or achy, she emitted a loud sigh and held one hand to her side. The man instantly panicked some more. “Come on. Let’s get you out of the rain. Should I call 911?”

Only then did Kayla hear the well-bred tone of his voice.Yes. Yessss.If Kayla had a guardian angel, it was working overtime! “I think I’m fine. Thank you. Oh…” She squeezed her hip. “I need to get my bearings.”

“Of course. Here.” Holding her by one hand, the man opened the passenger side of the BMW and waited for Kayla to step forward. He didn’t seem bothered that she was soaked through when she sat down on the leather seat. “Are yousureyou’re okay? I can drive you to the hospital. My brother is a doctor there. I think. Or did he transfer to… oh, shit. Shit.” He closed the door without further consulting Kayla about what she wanted to do. A few seconds later, the driver's side door opened, and the man was behind the wheel, blasting hot air and thinking out loud. “I’ve gotta get us out of this street. Luckily, my cousin’s office is two blocks over. Can you hang on until we get there? My cousin will know what to do.”

“I…”

Kayla couldn’t think about putting on her seatbelt. The BMW shifted into drive and turned the corner with such ferocity that she slammed against the window, one of her press-on nails snapping off before she had the chance to get the man’s name.

Not that it mattered. He was made of money. Already, Kayla’s dreams were coming true – and she had a convenient “meet cute” to tell his wealthy family when she inevitably met them in a few months.

“Yes, Auntie,” Tove sweetly said into her phone as she rearranged the heaps of manila folders on her desk. “I can fit you in next week. Get your tax information to me ASAP. It’s a crazy time of the year, you know.” When her phone began slipping off her shoulder, Tove was forced to drop one of the folders. Aunt Kiersten Fredriksson was the last person in Bend who should be hung up on, even by accident. “I should warn you, though, it sounds like you’ve hit the next tax bracket with those investments. Be prepared to discuss that, okay? I don’t want it to shock you…”

Tove didn’t have the chance to further explain what that meant. Aunt Kiersten was already howling about politics and how the government was taking all her hard-earned money.What “earned” money?Kiersten was the quintessential heiress of the expanded Fredriksson clan. She hadn’t worked a day in her life!

At least she didn’t have to worry about hanging up on her aunt. Kiersten did it herself with a haughty huff. Tove put down her phone and stared at the stack of folders that were already out of order. The most hilarious thing?They all have the name Fredriksson.

Kiersten. Ingrid. Bjorn. Sofia. Gus. Aaron. Mikael. Lars. And cousin Thomas because he had slipped in there somehow.

Tove would have to deal with the mess later because her thinking about Thomas had summoned him to the door of her accountant’s office in downtown Bend.

“What the…?” Tove backed up her chair but did not immediately get up. She would have, but her cousin wasn’t alone. There, coming through the door beside him, was a bedraggled young woman who looked more pathetic than a half-drowned housecat. Or maybe Tove thought about cats because of the garish leopard print on that rain-soaked sweater. “What in the world has happened?”

The wet woman with big puppy eyes accepted Thomas’s help to remove her sweater and wear his gray suit jacket over her shoulders. A meek but pleasant “Thank you” eked from her full lips. By now, Tove leaned against her desk, appalled by the large puddle of water on her carpet and the scratch marks on this woman’s palms.Did she fall in the street?Quickly, Tove put two and two together.

She preferred to hear it from her cousin’s mouth first.

“We had aslightaccident.” Whenever Thomas had that cheesy smile on his face, Tove knew he had gotten himself in trouble.What kind of trouble? Could be anything!Another girl pregnant. Another DUI. Another wham-bam marriage to a girl way too young for him. Tove could hardly keep up since her younger cousin was old enough to hold a BB gun and shot a neighbor’s cat.The cat lived, and his parents paid all the bills.After that, there was a unilateral ban on firearms of any kind for a child under the age of seven in the Fredriksson family – Thomas had been six.

That was thirty-four years ago.Tove had been in middle school. Or was it high school? Since turning fifty, she completely lost track of what happened in what year.

“What did you do?” Tove growled.

Her cousin flinched. The girl in the chair stretched her neck one way, then the other. When she realized that the other two people stared at her, she bowed her head.

“Like I said, a teeeeeeeny accident.” Thomas held his forefinger and thumb up before his cousin’s face. It was not convincing. “The rain is pretty bad outside, and I accidentallybumpedthis young lady as she crossed the street.”

Tove gasped. “You hit her with your car?”

“No, no! Just a little tap, Tove. Just atap.”

Tove shoved him aside and got closer to the girl. Aside from the stink of asphalt and the marks on her hands from where she must have caught her fall, she didn’t look visibly injured. Yet anything could have happened. A concussion. A broken rib. What if she was in dire need of a doctor?

At the same time…

“I should take her to St. Charles, shouldn’t I?” Thomas sighed in resignation.

Tove turned the girl’s hands over and decided the scrapes were superficial. She had lost one of her press-on nails – the index finger, of course. Even Tove knew how annoying that was.

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