by Kaylee Ryan
“You should be more alert when you have my son,” I say.
My voice startles her and she jumps, causing Knox to open his eyes before closing them again just as quickly.
Stepping outside, I shut the patio door and walk toward them. Leaning down, I take him from her. She juts her lip out in protest, but I need to hold him.
“You weren’t gone long,” she comments.
“I was gone for four hours, sister.” I laugh.
She grins, holding up her Kindle. “It’s really good,” she defends.
I just shake my head. She’s always loved to read. “I stopped by the office, talked to Dad, answered a few e-mails then went to Walmart.”
“How was Dad?”
“Good. He’s going to talk to Mom. I just need some time with him, you know?”
“Yeah, we’re just a phone call away. You got this, brother.”
“Hey, I ran into Kendall.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, she was behind me in line. Speaking of, I have a ton of shit—” I look down at my son sleeping in my arms. “I mean stuff that I need to unpack for him. You feel like helping?”
“Sure, I love all the little baby stuff. I had a blast when Mom and I went shopping for him,” she admits.
I stand and lead the way into the living room, where I left the remaining bags.
“Holy shit, Ridge. Did you buy the entire store?” She laughs.
“No, but he needs stuff, and I’m his dad. It’s my job to provide for him. I just got him a little bit of everything—more clothes and blankets and towels and stuff.”
“I can see that.” She starts unloading bags and comes across the tiny sweatpants, holding them up. “Too damn adorable.”
“Tiny,” I reply.
“You did good. I’ll unpack these clothes and throw them in the washer.”
“Thank you. I need to put his pen thing together and the bouncing seat. Can you hang out for a while? I’d like to have that done before I brave my night alone.”
“You got it. It’s almost time for him to eat anyway.”
“I’ll do it. Then I’ll get started.” I need as much practice as I can get; that way, when it’s just me and him, I’ll feel more comfortable.
I strap Knox into his car seat, not taking any chances, and carry him to the kitchen. I quickly mix up a bottle, something I’ve mastered in just a few short days. Little man is snoozing away, so I set the bottle next to his seat on the table and make Reagan and me a sandwich. I inhale mine, just shoving in the last bite when he starts to fuss.
Perfect timing. I got this dad thing down.
Knox takes his bottle like a champ. I piss him off when I stop to burp him, but it’s for his own good. I hate to hear him cry, but I know this is important or he’ll get a bellyache later; the nurses at the hospital stressed it, as has my mom and Reagan. I’m still not sure how Reagan knows so much about kids. I think it’s just a woman thing. She played house growing up, feeding and taking care of her dolls while I played cowboys and Indians and pretended to have shoot-outs.
Four ounces, two burps, and a diaper change later, my little man is content and snoozing away. I fold up an old quilt and make a small square on the floor next to me, gently laying him there to nap.
Reagan comes into the room. “Hey, all the clothes and blankets and all that are in the washer. What’s next?”
“I’m going to start putting stuff together. You can just relax unless he needs something.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” She plops down on the couch and crosses her legs. “Carry on.” She waves her hand at me.
I chuckle at her. I love my sister. Surprisingly, the bouncing seat—or bouncer, as Reagan calls it—has very little assembly; I just snap the legs in and the toys bar, and we’re good to go. I add the four batteries as needed, and it roars to life. Reagan hops off the couch and picks Knox up from the floor. He stretches his little arms and legs and grunts; he was sleeping well.
“You won’t sleep tonight, you little stinker,” she tells him as she gently places him in the bouncer and straps him in. She turns it on and he falls right back to sleep. “He likes it.” She grins.
He does seem to like it. I open the Pack ‘n Play and to my surprise, it’s limited assembly as well. It comes in a carrying case for travel—that’s a plus. It folds open, and I lock it into place. There’s a table-type piece that fits on the top.
“That’s so you can change him. Say you’re at the office. You don’t have to lay him on the floor, or your desk, and you won’t have to lean over the side. That would be awkward,” Reagan explains.
“That’s so handy. At least, I think it will be.”
“Yep, it’ll be perfect for poker night with the guys. You’ll know he has a safe place to play and sleep.”
“I doubt there will be many poker nights in my future.”
“Why the hell not?”
“I have a baby, Reagan.”
“And? You’re a dad, Ridge, but you’re still you. You need to have a life too.”
“He’s my life.”
“I get that, I do, but you have to live for you too. You have to find the balance. There’s nothing wrong with poker night. You just take him with you, and bring this—” she points to the Pack ‘n Play “—pack a diaper bag and you’re all set. You know the guys are going to be onboard with it.”
“Yeah, it’s just going to take some time for me to get a routine. To feel comfortable taking him out like that on my own.”
“You have the guys,” she fires back.
I stare at her. “Really, Reagan? How many times have you seen them around babies?”
“Kent has a niece, and Mark’s sister is pregnant with twins,” she reminds me.
“I guess.”
“Listen, I know you need time to adjust, but don’t lose you in the process.”
“It’s different now, you know?”
“I get that, brother, I do. You have to find a balance. You can be his father and still have a life. One day, you’ll find a woman who will love both of you. How are you going to do that if you stay closed up? You’re a kick-ass dad, Ridge. Just look at all this.” She waves her hand around the room. “You will stop at nothing to give him what he needs. Just remember you have needs too.”
I smirk at her and she tosses a pillow at my head.
“You good here?” she asks.
“Yeah, the guys are stopping by later, bringing dinner. You can stay or come back, whatever.”
“I think I’m going to go home and catch up on laundry. Stop by the shop and pay a few bills then curl up with my Kindle and finish my book. You boys have fun.”
I stand and give her a hug. “Love you, sister,” I say, as I kiss the top of her head.
“Yeah, yeah.” She grins. “See you later.”
“Later.”
The house is quiet except for the soft hum of the bouncer seat that has kept my son in a deep slumber. I grab a few pillows off the couch and lie on the floor beside it. “Sleep when he does” Mom has said more times than I can count. I place my hand on his little leg and allow myself to drift off to sleep.
Chapter 14
Kendall
My phone rings, jolting me awake. Squinting to look at the clock, I see that it’s only eight in the morning. It’s Saturday, my day off, and I wanted to sleep in.
So much for that plan.
Reaching for the phone, I swipe at the screen and pull it to my ear. “Hello,” I mumble.
“Morning, sweetheart,” my dad’s chipper voice greets me.
“Hey, Dad, everything okay?”
“Yes, why wouldn’t it be?” he asks.
“It’s early, on Saturday. My day off. I was sleeping,” I grumble into the phone.
Dad chuckles. “You’re wasting a beautiful day, Kendall. I do have a favor to ask you, though.”
“Okay?”
“Well, Grandma and Grandpa are having the house remodeled. They leave for Florida tomorrow ho
use-hunting, and they forgot that your mother and I will be on our cruise to Mexico. Can you check in with the builders? They know what needs to be done, but if they have any questions or run into any snags, can you handle it?”
Me? “Dad, I hate to break it to you, but I know nothing about construction.”
He laughs. “I know, sweetheart, and you don’t need to. The company is reputable, and they know what’s expected. We really just need you to check in with them. If they have questions, you can relay them to Grandpa.”
Ugh. “Sure, no problem. How often do I need to check?”
“Every few days. Your mom and I will be gone for two weeks, as you know, so it’s just until we get back.”
“You’re lucky I love you.” I can’t help but smile.
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“I’ll be thinking.” I already know what that means, though. He takes care of the maintenance on my car—oil change, washing, waxing, and all that jazz. He’s a chemical engineer by trade, and he says that tinkering helps him relax. I don’t question it, but I do benefit from it. I’m Daddy’s little girl, and not one bit ashamed of it.
I admit that the decision to move home wasn’t just to get away from Cal—I also missed my parents.’ Sure, it was just under a two-hour drive, but you know how it is; life gets busy, and the well-intended trips end up getting put on the back burner. I’m glad to be home. Although I wanted to sleep in, I’m glad that I’m close enough for them to depend on me. I’ve missed that.
“So, what do you have going on today?”
“Yard work and packing. Are we going to see you before we leave?” he asks.
“Yeah, Mom invited Dawn and me to dinner tomorrow night.”
“Good. I’ll see you then. Thanks, sweetheart.”
“You’re welcome. Give Mom a hug for me.”
“Will do,” he says, and the line goes dead.
I drop my phone and burrow back under the covers, but it’s useless; I’m up and can’t get back to sleep. I decide to get moving, hoping Dawn might want to go to the mall. This warm May weather has me ready to add to my summer wardrobe. I take my time in the shower before making my way to the kitchen, popping a bagel into the toaster just as Dawn emerges from her room.
“You’re up early,” she says, noticing I’m ready for the day.
“Yeah. Dad called at eight and woke me up. You got plans today?”
“Nope, you?”
“Thinking about going to the mall.”
“Yes! Retail therapy. I need to update my summer wardrobe.”
This is why we’re best friends. We share a brain sometimes—at least, it seems that way.
“Sounds like a plan. They don’t open until ten though, so we have some time.”
Dawn pops her own bagel in the toaster. “We need to eat lunch at the Cheesecake Factory. That place is soooo good.”
“Deal.” I dive into my bagel and mentally go over my finances, working out a budget for today’s shopping adventure.
Five hours later, both Dawn and I are exhausted from a full day of shopping. The pre-Memorial Day sales were in full swing, and we got some great deals.
“Feed me, woman,” Dawn says dramatically.
“I’m starving too. That bagel lost its effect hours ago,” I admit.
We drag our bags out to my car then head back in to the Cheesecake Factory. We’re standing in line waiting for a table when I hear my name.
“Kendall.”
I turn and see Reagan standing there with her mom. “Hey, stranger,” I greet her. “Dawn, this is Reagan, a friend from high school, Reagan, this is my best friend and roommate, Dawn,” I introduce them.
“Flat-tire girl.” Reagan smirks.
Dawn laughs. “Yep, that’s me. He really did save me,” she insists.
“Mom, this is the girl Ridge stopped to help that night. The night of the accident.” She says the last bit softly.
Her mother’s eyes show recognition. “It’s nice to meet you, ladies.”
“Hi, how many?” the hostess asks.
“You guys want to join us?” I offer. This place is crazy packed, so it could be a while otherwise.
“We don’t want to intrude,” her mom replies.
“Actually, I have a table for four now. Don’t know how long until another opens,” the hostess offers.
“Well, if you don’t mind,” Reagan says.
“Not at all,” Dawn assures them. “Besides, Kendall tells me that your brother has some good-looking friends, so we need to chat.” She links her arm through Reagan’s and we follow the hostess to our table.
I look over at her mom. “Sorry about that. She really has no filter.”
“No need. You’ve met my children, right? Not to mention that she’s right—or you are, rather. Those boys, all five of them, are more handsome than should be allowed. All good boys too,” she adds.
“I have to show you this outfit,” Reagan says once we’re seated. She reaches down and digs through her bags. “Look at this.” She holds up the smallest pair of Levi’s jeans I have ever seen. With it is a short-sleeve plaid shirt. “Isn’t it adorable?”
“It really is. Those jeans are too cute,” I agree.
“They had shorts too.” She holds up a tiny pair of blue jean shorts. “This having a nephew business is going to cause me to go bankrupt. I’m going to have to increase my schedule at the shop,” she comments.
“What do you do?” Dawn asks her.
“I own my own salon on Main Street, called Reagan’s.” She grins.
“I am long overdue,” I tell her. “I don’t think I’ve had my hair done since moving back six months ago. It’s on the to-do list.”
“Six months? I can’t tell; your hair is beautiful as ever. I’ve always wanted your hair.”
“It’s the curls. She can hide it. Now me, on the other hand, not so much. I went to Macy’s salon, but I wasn’t impressed with how she cut it. I can’t get it to lay right. You up for the challenge?” Dawn asks her.
“You know it. Call me next week, and I’ll work you both in. Better yet, what are you all doing tonight? We can meet at the shop later.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell her.
She waves off my concern. “No problem. I’ve been off several days helping Ridge get settled, so it’ll be good for me to get back in the swing of things before Monday.”
“I’m in,” Dawn announces.
Well, okay then. “All right, if you’re sure?” I say.
“Positive. What’s the fun of owning your own shop if you can’t use it whenever you want? Meet me there at six? Give me your number, and I’ll text you the address.”
I rattle off my number and not a minute later my phone pings with her text. We spend the rest of our lunch catching up, she and her mom showing us the deals they got for Baby Knox. He’s spoiled already. Splitting the tip, we part ways with the promise to meet Reagan at the shop at six. It gives us just enough time to run home, unload our loot from today, and change before heading back out.
We find Reagan’s shop without any trouble. I’ve driven past it several times and never put together who owned it. Small world.
She greets us at the door, her phone to her ear and a concerned expression on her face. “Come on in,” she says, holding the door open for us. “Dammit.” She hits end on the call and then calls again.
Dawn and I stand just inside the door, watching her. Whoever she’s trying to call still doesn’t answer.
“Sorry, guys. I’ve been trying to call Ridge for the last hour. He’s on this ‘I need to learn to do this on my own’ kick, but when your sister calls you need to answer the damn phone,” she rants.
“I’m sure everything is fine,” I try to calm her down.
“But what if it’s not? He’s a new dad, new at all of this,” She dials again, placing it on speaker phone.
The loud ring echoes throughout the shop. This time, she hits ends and runs her fingers through her ha
ir.
“Why don’t we just drive over there? How far is it?” Dawn asks.
“Like fifteen minutes, at the most. You guys don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I’m sure it’s fine, and seeing for yourself will put you at ease,” I say.
“I’ll drive,” Reagan states, reaching for her purse and keys from the nearby counter.
Dawn and I follow her out and wait for her to lock the shop. Within minutes, we’re on our way to check on Ridge. He’s probably going to wish he’d answered his phone once he sees the three of us on his doorstep.
Reagan pulls up to a sprawling brick ranch. It’s well landscaped and looks every bit the family home.
“Come on,” she says, climbing out of the car.
Neither Dawn nor I argue, just follow her up on the porch. She doesn’t knock. Instead, she tries the door and it’s unlocked, so she walks in and motions for us to do the same.
“Why are you not answering your phone?” she hisses in a low voice.
“It’s on vibrate. He’s been fussy, and I finally got him to sleep.” Ridge’s deep voice is low as he hisses back his reply.
“We dropped what we were doing to come and check on you. I was worried,” Reagan whispers.
“We?”
It’s then that Reagan steps out of the way and reveals Dawn and me standing behind her.
In no way am I prepared for what I see. My mouth waters and I know I’m staring, but at this moment in time, I have no fucks to give. Ridge is sitting on the couch, shirtless and sporting worn jeans with holes in them, looking sexy as hell with bare feet and his tattoos on full display. I want nothing more than to trace them with my tongue. This alone is not what’s causing my girly bits to take notice though. What has my body screaming his name is his baby boy, cradled in his arms. This man—tall, dark, handsome, looking like sex personified—is holding his baby boy close to his chest.
Ovary explosion!
“Hey,” he says softly, his eyes capturing mine. “Good to see you again.” He chances a quick glance at Dawn, but then his eyes are right back to mine.
