“And kids? Did you see yourself being a father?” I don’t know why I ask that. It’s not like he has a choice in the matter, but I want kids. If this is really going anywhere or leads to more, that’s important to me.
“Yeah, I did. I assumed I would find the one, just like my dad talked about with Mom. Still to this day, anytime he’s gone, even just to the store, before he leaves and as soon as he’s back, he has to kiss her.” He stops as if remembering, a small smile tipping his lips. “Dad used to tell us as kids that he knew from the moment he met her that she was his future. I wanted that. I still do.” He looks over at me, slows his walk, bends down and kisses my temple.
I’m glad he insisted I hold on to him; otherwise, I’d be a puddle of goo, right here on the paved walkway of the park.
“My parents’ have a similar story,” I say, once I’ve composed myself. “They met in college, fell hard and fast, and they’re still going strong today.”
“Big shoes to fill,” he replies.
“Yeah . . . Honestly, I had all but given up that I would ever find that.” We stop to sit on a park bench beside the small lake. He parks the stroller so the sun isn’t in the baby’s eyes, then settles on the bench next to me. His arm rests across my shoulders, and he pulls me close.
“And now?” he asks, his voice low.
“Now.” I stop to collect my thoughts. “Now, the dream of having what my parents’ have is back in full bloom, I just. . . .”
“Just what?” he murmurs.
“Now I know who I want it to be.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. His voice, his scent—he scrambles my brain. He’s getting the real me.
His lips are close to my ear when he whispers, “Let it be me.”
Holy shit! Is this really my life right now? Reaching down, I pinch my leg and jump from the sting.
“What are you doing?” he asks. I can hear it in his voice that he thinks what I just did is crazy.
“I had to know.”
“Had to know what, sweet girl?”
I look up at him and get lost in his dark eyes. “I had to know if this was real. I was making sure you aren’t just a figment of my imagination.”
He chuckles. “No, baby, I’m not. I’m one hundred percent real, and I’m yours.” He says it like there’s no question. His statement is final.
“What does that mean exactly?” There I go again, not thinking before I speak. I look around to make sure no one’s listening in on our conversation. It’s just the three of us.
“That means exactly what I said. I’m yours. I want this, and I want you.”
“But that means . . . what? We’re dating? Ridge, this is all really fast and confusing and I—”
“We’re more than dating. You’re more than just someone I’m dating casually. Don’t ask me to explain it because I can’t. I just know it. There’s this coiling deep in my gut and it constricts at the thought of us not being together. I’m trusting that to lead us into our future.”
“Do I get a say in this?” I ask him.
He studies me for a long time before replying. “No. Not unless you say you agree with me. I don’t give up easy and I won’t now, not when it comes to you.”
Swoon!
“You ready for some lunch? I’m starving.”
“Yes.”
We stand to leave. Ridge grabs my hand and places it back in the crook of his arm while he pushes the stroller. The walk back is quiet, like we’re both taking the time to process what we just talked about.
“Okay, so how do we get him out of this thing?” he asks with a worried expression.
“Try the button on the handle,” I suggest.
Sure enough, it works, and Ridge is able to free the car seat from the stroller. I manage to load up the diaper bag and fold down the stroller just as he reaches me on the other side of the truck. “I got that, babe.” He takes it from me and lifts it effortlessly into the backseat.
“I probably need to look at getting another vehicle. An SUV or something,” he says, shoving the diaper bag in the backseat as well.
“You could’ve put it in the bed of the truck,” I tell him.
“Yeah, but what if it’s raining and I need the stroller and we have a bunch of other stuff? We won’t be able to use the bed of the truck.”
“You could get one of those bed cover things,” I suggest.
“I could, but this is a business truck. It’s probably time I get something that doesn’t have Beckett Construction sprawled down the side.”
“That’s who you are.”
“It is,” he agrees. “But I’m also a dad now.”
“You’re a good man, Ridge Beckett.”
He reaches over and laces his fingers through mine, letting our combined hands rest on the center console. “I want to be, for you and for him. I want to be.”
I don’t know what to say to that. ‘Thank you?’ ‘I’m falling for you hard and fast, and I hope like hell you catch me?’ For once, I keep my mouth shut as we drive to the diner just down from my office.
“This okay?” he asks, motioning his head toward the backseat. “It’s family friendly.”
“Perfect.” Just like him. This day has been one of the best, and I can only hope we have many more just like it.
Ridge grabs Knox, seat and all, tossing the diaper bag over his shoulder. I stand at the front of the truck, trying like hell not to drool. Six-two, broad shoulders, arm porn—as Dawn and I like to call it—tattoos running down his arm, his dark hair messy, and those dark eyes that seem to devour me anytime he’s near. I want to pull my phone out and snap a picture of him. Not to mention he’s holding a baby carrier, and from the look on his face as he stares down at his son, you know he sees him as the brightest part of his life. There isn’t a female out there who wouldn’t melt at the sight of him in this moment.