I fight back the bolt of electricity from the heat of his touch and let him guide us out of the building and to his truck.
“Where to?”
“I’m thinking . . . Taco Bell,” I suggest.
“Sounds good to me. So how has your day been?”
“So far so good. Although, I will admit that once I saw that Knox was on the schedule, it began to drag.” Why I just told him that I don’t know. It’s like my nerves are causing me to spill my guts.
“How so?”
Great. Now I have to explain it. “Just excited to see you guys,” I say honestly.
He doesn’t say anything, just reaches over and rests his hand on my thigh. My scrubs are thin and the heat from his touch is searing. He leaves his hand there while he orders, only removing it to pay, then quickly places it in the exact same spot.
He drives us next door to a church parking lot where we take off our seat belts and devour our lunch. “So, any big plans for the weekend?” he asks.
“Nope. Dawn and I are going to stay in and have a movie night. You?”
“Nah, with the little man being so fussy, we really just need the sleep.”
“Why don’t you see if your mom or Reagan will watch him for a few hours while you get a nap.”
“I can’t do it,” he says firmly.
Reaching out, I place my hand on his arm. I wait for him to look at me before speaking. “Of course you can. You’re an amazing dad, Ridge. No one would fault you for needing a little help now and then. I could even. . . .”
“Thank you, but we got this,” he responds, looking into the back seat where Knox is now sleeping peacefully.
“So, how is the house coming?” I change the subject, not wanting to get him upset with me or just agitated in general. He seems calm and both he and Knox need that right now. We chat for another ten minutes about random things. It’s nothing and it’s everything.
“I guess I need to get you back.”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “Duty calls and all that.” He chuckles. I gather our trash and put it all in one bag, so I can throw it away at the office. Ridge starts the truck, pulls out of the lot and his hand, as soon as he has the truck in gear, rests on my thigh. It’s confusing and stressful, and I never want to leave this truck.
“Thank you for lunch,” I say, climbing out.
“Always, sweet girl.” He winks.
I give him a bright smile. “Give him a kiss from me,” I say and quietly shut the door. I turn and walk away before I won’t allow myself to. Ridge Beckett the man is tempting as hell. Ridge Beckett single daddy is almost impossible to resist.
The rest of my weekend flows by. Dawn and I just hung out Saturday night at the house. We had our wild days in college; now it’s Netflix and Ben and Jerry’s—at least that’s how it’s been since we moved here. We often go to my parents’ for Sunday dinner, but they’re still out of town until Friday. I haven’t talked to them, but Mom sent me an e-mail with a few pictures. They look like they are having a great time.
Today starts the work week. I’ve gone back and forth a thousand times on whether or not I’m going to stop by my grandparents’ on the way to work. Considering I was just there on Friday, and I spent time with him on Saturday, I’m going to wait until tomorrow. I’ll drop in on Tuesday and Thursday. Dad will be back on Friday, and then I’m off the hook. I have to admit that makes me a little sad.
“We riding together today?” I ask Dawn.
“Works for me. We are on the same shift right? Hell, I can never remember.” She walks to the fridge and checks the staff schedule we keep there. “Yep, we’re both eight to five today.”
“Even better. You about ready to go?”
“Yeah, just let me get my watch and shoes and I’m good,” she says, rinsing out her juice glass.
Work is uneventful, just the daily grind. That is until my phone alerts me to a text message while I’m sitting at my desk, working on the staff schedule for next month. Pulling my phone out of my purse, I see it’s from Ridge.
Ridge: Delivery.
Attached is a picture of several boxes stacked up in the living room.
Ridge: Cabinets, sweet girl.
Me: Right. I should’ve known that. Looks like a busy day.
Ridge: Busy is good. Keeps the mind busy.
Me: My mind is plenty busy. Staff schedule.
I’m not sure why I tell him what I’m doing. It’s not like he cares about my staffing schedule.
Ridge: Ahh. Good luck.
Me: Thanks.
I slide my phone back into my purse and try to focus on the schedule.
Distracting sexy man.
I jolt at the sound of my son crying. Looking over at the alarm clock, I see that he slept for six straight hours. My alarm is supposed to go off in ten minutes. Reaching over, I turn it off. I feel like a new man. Climbing out of bed, I pad to Knox’s room in nothing but my boxer briefs. As I get closer, his cries grow louder; when I open the door, they’re deafening.
I reach into his crib and pick him up. “Hey, little man. You’re belly feeling better? You hungry?” He continues to cry, which is not his usual MO; usually he quiets down when I pick him up. I lay him on the changing table, and as soon as I pull off his sleeper I can smell why. At least I think that’s why. I’m still learning all his cries. It’s so fucking hard when he can’t tell me what he needs. I have to guess and—let’s be straight here—I’m clueless.
I strip him out of his sleeper and see his diaper has indeed leaked. He has shit all over his legs.