Two people were in the waiting room, but again he had his hat pulled low and most of his face was hidden by Kaitlyn.
"I can take care of myself," was the first thing she said when they were back in the car.
"You have to stay off that foot," he reminded her.
"We'll see," she grumbled. "Just get me home and I'll be fine."
Well, he knew that wasn't the damn truth. But one thing at a time. When they got to their houses he parked and carried her up the stairs to her place and parked her on the couch. He checked her freezer, found a bag of frozen lima—lima beans?—and placed it gently on her ankle.
"Don't move," he ordered. "Give me a minute and I'll be right back."
He grabbed a wastebasket bag from her kitchen and jogged back down the stairs.
He cleaned up the mess from the salad and broken dishes and tossed the bag in his big trash bin. Then he was back upstairs, standing next to Kaitlyn, trying not to laugh at the grumpy look on her face.