by Kaylee Ryan
“Kendall,” Ridge’s deep voice greets me.
Looking up, I see those dark eyes of his trained on me. Tyler throws his arm over my shoulders.
“This is her grandparents’ place. Small world, huh?” he says to Ridge.
“Tyler,” Ridge growls. He doesn’t seem too happy with him at the moment.
Tyler just chuckles and drops his arm.
“Morning.” I wave awkwardly at Ridge, and a small smile tips his lips. It really is too early to be subjected to this man and that dimple. The rest of the guys are now gathered around, so I smile and wave to them as well. “So, my grandparents are out of town, as are my parents.’ My dad sent me—not that I can be of much help,” I explain quickly.
“No problem, we know what he wants done. Your grandfather, I mean. We do need a set of keys though,” Ridge says.
“Right. Sorry, I have them. Come on in.” I open the door and go inside. Grabbing the envelope on the table with the keys, I hand it to Ridge, who’s now standing right next to me. “Here you go.”
“Thank you. So, if something does come up, should we call you?” he asks.
“Yeah, for the next couple weeks anyway. My grandparents will be gone longer, but my dad will be back in town after that.”
Ridge pulls out his phone. “Number?” he asks.
He’s not asking because he’s interested in you, it’s for work purposes. I rattle off my number and he types it in his phone.
“Thanks, beautiful,” Tyler says, shoving his phone into his pocket.
I just smile and laugh at his antics. Ridge, however, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m not paying you to stand around,” he says, irritation lacing his voice.
Tyler smacks him on the shoulder, laughing as he and the rest of the guys—who were oddly silent—head back outside.
Chapter 17
Ridge
I spent the remainder of my weekend trying to work out my reaction to Kendall in my head. Why all of a sudden do I feel this pull to her? She’s beautiful, with long dark hair, and big blue eyes. There’s something about her, something I can’t quite figure out, but whatever it is, it pulls me to her.
Now here she is.
“Small world,” I say once the guys are out of earshot.
“Yeah.” She tucks a curl behind her ear. “How’s Knox?”
I can feel the smile as my lips tip up. “He’s good. He’s with my mom. She’s going to be watching him for me.” I’m rambling now.
“You’re lucky he’s with family. Most are not that fortunate.”
“Yeah, I feel bad, though. Dad’s only been retired a couple of years, and I feel like I’m tying them down again.”
“Doubtful. First of all, he’s adorable, and from how your mom was talking this weekend, she’s flying high being Grandma. Seems like your dad is as well.”
“You talked to my mom?” When was that? How did I not know this?
“Yeah, Dawn and I had lunch with her and Reagan at the mall. I thought we told you that.”
Well, shit. Reagan said she ran into them, but she didn’t mention Mom being with her. Why do I hate the fact that she got to see Mom, but I wasn’t there? It’s not like Mom never met her—she and Reagan graduated together, and this is a small town—but still, I feel like I should have been there with her, like I should have been the one introducing her, not Reagan.
“Yeah, that’s what they tell me.”
“Well, if you ask my parents,’ that’s the point of retirement. However, I seem to be throwing a wrench into their plans.” She grins.
“Not ready to settle down?” I ask. What the hell? Why am I prying into her life? It’s none of my damn business, but I want the answer.
“That’s not it. Just keep hitting roadblocks.”
Her eyes seem to lose some of their sparkle. Now I want to know what—or who—the roadblock is. Or has been, anyway. Is she seeing someone? Why does the thought of her being someone else’s bother me?
“Roadblocks?”
She chuckles. “Yeah, you know, dating one loser after another. Falling for the lines, finally seeing the smoke through the mirrors.”
“Boyfriend?” I have to know.
“Nope.”
“He’s an idiot.” I blurt the words out without thinking. No truer words have been said, but I still should’ve kept my mouth shut.
She blushes.
Sweet girl.
“I would have to agree, although I’m sure it’s for different reasons.”
“Regardless, he’s an idiot,” I say again.
“Yo, Ridge, we doing this?” Kent yells through the front door.
“I should get started. We’re good here, but I’ll call you if something comes up.”
“Sounds good.” She looks down at her watch. “Shit, I need to get to work. Have a good day, Ridge.”
I watch her grab her purse and rush out of the house, and then I stare at the door for several minutes, transfixed by her. It’s not until Seth comes into my line of sight that I snap out of my Kendall trance.
“You good?” he asks.
“Yep. You all got everything unloaded?”
He nods. “She’s cute.” He motions his head toward the door.
“She is,” I agree. She’s more than cute—she’s fucking gorgeous, and sweet as hell.
“You think you can give me her number?”
What. The. Fuck.
“No,” I growl.
“Dude, come on. It won’t interfere with the job, promise.”
“What’s taking you two so long?” Mark asks.
“I’m just trying to get Ridge to give me Kendall’s number,” Seth tells him.
“Hell yes.” Kent holds his fist out to Seth and they bump.
“Not fucking happening,” I say, my voice low and stern.
“Come on, man. Why are you being stingy?” Tyler asks.
I glare at him.
“Unless . . .” Mark taps his finger against his chin. “You want her for yourself.”
Yes. “She’s a client’s granddaughter,” I say instead.
“I call bullshit,” Seth fires back, the peanut gallery voicing their agreement.
“What the fuck business do I have getting into a relationship right now? My son needs me. I have to be both Mom and Dad, and it’s a fucking daily struggle. I don’t have room for anything else right now.”
Kent crosses his arms over his chest. “Who said anything about a relationship?”
Fuck!
“That’s not your MO, man,” Mark points out.
“Like I said, I’m calling bullshit.” Seth smirks.
“We’re wasting time,” I say, trying to get them off the subject of Kendall. Of me and Kendall.
“You didn’t seem to mind so much when you and the sexy Kendall were chatting it up,” Kent accuses.
“We have a schedule to keep,” I say, ignoring his jab.
“Ridge and Kendall sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S—” Tyler sings.
I punch his shoulder, effectively cutting him off from finishing his little song. “Work,” I grit out. I don’t stick around for more of their ribbing, stomping out of the house to my truck. I grab the folder that holds the details of the renovations and try like hell to wrap my mind around what needs to be done. The here and now—that’s what I need to concentrate on. Kendall is beautiful, but I was serious when I said I need to learn how to take care of my son. Sure, I’ve been doing okay up to this point, but it’s been a week. One whole week, and only three of those days did I have him on my own. It’s tiring and scary as hell. I’m man enough to admit that.
I need to learn how to take care of him, make sure he has what he needs. Maybe then I can live a little for me. Right now, though, I live for him—my little man.
Chapter 18
Kendall
I’ve managed to avoid my grandparents’ house all week. After Monday and seeing Ridge, I decided to let them do their thing. Dad wanted me to check on them, but I trust Ridge and
his crew. In my defense, on Wednesday I had all intentions of going over there, but Reagan called and mentioned she was going to Ridge’s later that night to see Knox. I asked her to ask him if he needed anything. She texted me a couple hours later; he, of course, said no. And just like that, I had successfully filled my obligation to my dad, without having to actually see Ridge.
Today, however, I have to go. Grandpa called me first thing this morning and asked to send him pictures. I’m sure it’s just demolition, but he still wants to see them. Mom got him and Grandma a smartphone for Christmas, and believe it or not, they’re doing better with it than I ever thought they would.
I’m off work today, since I work Saturday this week, which means I don’t have work as an excuse. I stay in my room until I hear Dawn leave for the day. Once the door clicks shut, I climb my procrastinating ass out of bed and head to the shower. I take my time, enjoying the hot spray, not getting out until I feel the water turn cold. Dressing in a pair of jean capris and an old Def Leppard concert T-shirt, I blow-dry my hair and pull it into a topknot. I don’t want to appear to try too hard. Although, with all my curls, the style is cute, but I would never admit that.
After a quick breakfast that consists of a bagel and cream cheese, I slide into my flip-flops, grab my purse, keys, phone and hit the road. On the drive over, I mentally prepare myself to see Ridge. I have to keep reminding myself that he’s mourning and his life is chaos right now; I should be offering my support, not thinking of ways to get him in my bed. Not to mention that those thoughts aren’t me—well, not usually. For Ridge Beckett, I can make an exception.
Pulling into my grandparents’ driveway, I see both Beckett Construction trucks. I don’t see any of the guys, but the sound of power tools lets me know they are indeed inside the house. I’m excited to see what they’ve done. Grandma insisted the house be ‘modernized’ before they put it on the market. My parents’ agreed that if it were ‘move-in ready,’ they would get a much better price for it.
Making my way inside, I follow the noise to the kitchen and see Kent, Mark and Tyler. The three of them have their shirts off as they work together to install the new hardwood floor. The kitchen is gutted of all cabinets and flooring, but the image of the three hot guys bending over distracts me from the sadness that my grandparents are doing this to sell and move to another state.
I stand just inside the doorway and openly stare at them. The music is loud so they don’t know I’m here, and I’m taking full advantage of the view. I walk further into the room, getting ready to alert them to my presence, when Kent stands and grabs another piece of flooring. He holds it on his shoulders, swinging around. I feel two large hands grab my hips and pull me out of the way. I land with a humph against a firm chest.
“Careful, sweet girl,” a deep voice whispers in my ear.
I shiver, though I’m not cold—no, his hard body pressed against me ensures that. It’s Ridge causing my body to react this way.
“Ridge.” His name falls from my lips in what sounds like a breathy moan. So much for the pep talk on the drive over.
His grip on my hips tightens. “You need to be careful around here. I don’t need you getting hurt.”
I swallow hard, trying to control my body’s reaction to him. “You all have been busy,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“We have.” His lips are still next to my ear, his hands still on my hips.
“Well, look who it is. Hey, Kendall,” Seth says from beside me.
I turn my head to look at him, which places Ridge’s lips next to my cheek. “S-Seth,” I manage to greet him.
He smirks then reaches out and grabs my hand, giving a gentle tug. Ridge is two steps ahead of him, his firm grip preventing my body from moving. Seth throws his head back in laughter.
“What the . . . ? Oh, hey, Kendall,” Mark says.
This causes Kent and Tyler to turn, and my face heats when their eyes roam over me in Ridge’s possessive hold. I move to step away, and he holds me still.
“No,” his gruff voice whispers.
“What brings you by? You missing me?” Tyler asks, walking toward us.
“I . . . um . . . my, uh, grandpa wanted to see some pictures of the remodel. He asked me to stop by.” I hold up my phone to prove that’s my true motivation for being there.
“Here, let me.” Tyler reaches for the phone and grabs it from my hands.
I watch as he swipes the screen, and I regret not having a password. I stand frozen with the sexy Ridge Beckett holding me against him, while one of his hot best friends and employees makes himself comfortable as he sifts through my cell phone. A slow grin tips his lips, and then I hear his phone beep in his pocket. Tyler looks up. “You never know when I might need some company for dinner. I hate eating alone.” He bites his lip to keep from grinning.
He texted himself so he would have my number. Tyler is hot, but he doesn’t make me shiver in eighty-degree temperatures. He doesn’t have my knees locking and refusing to move from his grip of my hips. Sure, Ridge’s hold is tight, but I didn’t exactly put up much effort to escape. It was all for show. I’ll stand here as long as he does, soaking up his heat, the feel of his hands on my waist. The way his fingers slip just under my T-shirt, his thumb lightly caressing my bare skin. Yep, I’m good right here.
“What the fuck?” Ridge growls. “Did you just send yourself a text from her phone?”
Tyler’s grin grows wider. “Good, right?” he asks.
“Motherfucker,” Ridge swears under his breath.
I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves. This time, when I try to step away, he releases a heavy sigh and lets me. “I can take the pictures,” I tell Tyler, holding my hand out for my phone. He winks and hands it back to me.
I quickly grab it and pull up the camera app. I step further away from Ridge, and it’s as though my body can feel the separation. I ache to be back in his arms. Saving me from being hit in the head, holding me for real—at this point, I’ll take whatever I can get.
“Watch your step,” Ridge tells me.
Looking down, I see the uneven terrain of the flooring. It’s an inch at the most. I look back up and find his eyes locked on me. His stare is intense and a little intimidating. Not intimidating like Cal, no. Ridge’s intense is . . . sexy and all-consuming. In the best of ways.
Chapter 19
Ridge
What is it about Kendall that makes me forget everything else but her? When she’s near me, the chaos that runs through my head on a daily basis quiets down. The stress of raising Knox on my own, the worry of being able to give him what he needs, the love of both parents—that all fades into the background to simmer while in the presence of Kendall Dawson. It’s not just that; I also seem to forget how to act when she’s around. Although I don’t know any man who, given the opportunity to have his hands on her curves, to be able to trace her bare skin, wouldn’t have reacted the same way. I didn’t want to let go. Leave it to my band of brothers from different mothers to bring me back to reality.
“Time for a break,” I tell them, not tearing my eyes away from Kendall. I can’t. I hear them snicker while their heavy-booted feet carry them out the door. I don’t think either of us takes a breath, waiting for them to leave.
“How was your week?” she asks, breaking eye contact and looking down at the phone in her hands.
I thought about you all week. “Good. Busy. Just taking it one day at a time.” I don’t know if she meant here at her grandparents’ place or at home with Knox, but I gave her both. I’m exhausted from middle-of-the-night feedings, and work is stressful when it lies on your shoulders and those shoulders are exhausted from the weight of the world. “How about yours? I thought I would’ve seen you around here before now.” Hoped is more like it. I was disappointed when Reagan said she talked to Kendall earlier on Wednesday and she asked her to check in with me about the job. I wanted to call her, text her and demand she ask me herself, telling myself it’s not because I wanted t
o hear her voice or read her words.
“Same old.”
“You have plans tonight?” What the fuck am I doing?
“No, I work tomorrow. It’ll be a quiet night in for me.”
I chuckle. “Me too. Little man isn’t much for conversation these days.”
She grins. “He’s adorable. Don’t worry, he’ll be chatting your head off soon enough.”
“That’s what I hear. To hear my parents’ tell it, if I blink I’ll miss him growing up.”
“I’ve heard that.” She looks around the demolished kitchen. “So, things good here? Do you need me for anything?”
Nope, just you. “We’re good. It looks rough now, but I promise when we’re through it will be magazine-worthy.”
A sad smile crosses her face. “I love this house. The big backyard. I have so many memories of my childhood here. Mom and Dad worked a lot, so I stayed with my grandparents a lot. I’m sad that they’re selling.”
“Great view,” I say, commenting on the backyard that has her rapt attention through the kitchen window.
“I’ll get out of your hair. I have a few errands to run today, and then I’m parking it on the couch with a book.”
She heads toward the door, and I want to reach out for her as she passes and demand she stay here and talk to me. I grip my fists tightly to keep from doing just that. I turn and follow her like a puppy out of the house, not bothering to look at the guys as we head to her car. Instead, I keep my eyes trained on her ass, those long, tanned legs and the gentle sway of her hips.
I should have been paying attention to where I was walking, because she stops suddenly and I barrel into her. My hands land on her hips, keeping her from falling. Keeping her close. She smells incredible, sweet like honey. I rest my chin on the top of her head and soak up the feel of her in my arms. I’m sure any minute now she’s going to pull away from me.
“Ridge,” she whispers.
Instantly, my cock is hard. Her fine ass pressed against me, my name falling from her lips—how the fuck am I supposed to resist that? “Kendall,” I growl, turned the fuck on.
