“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.
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. Score!
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 all 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.