Unexpected Reality (21 page)

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.

Awesome.

“No wonder you’re so pissed, bud. Let’s get you cleaned up.” I take off his diaper and he kicks his little legs, covering them in shit as well. All right then, looks like a bath is in order. I remove the shitty diaper and toss it into the . . . bucket . . . thing Reagan said I had to have to help with the smell. Not sure it’s going to be able to do much for the bomb I just gave it, though. Since the sheet on the changing table is shit-splattered already, I pull it off the rest of the way, wrap it around him and head toward the bathroom.

Although not as loud, the little guy is still pissed off. Can’t say I blame him; I’d be pissed too if I had shit all over me. Once in the bathroom, I turn on the water to let it warm, then grab his baby tub and the little yellow duck that tells me the water is the right temperature. Reaching down, I run my hand under the water to see if it’s close. It’s still a little cool.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Daddy’s got you. We’re going to get you all cleaned up, and then get your belly full, I promise,” I try to console him. I’m gently bouncing him in my arms when I feel warmth and wetness on my chest. “What the . . . ?” Pulling him away from my body, I see he’s pissed all over me, all over both of us. Looking down at my son, mad-as-hell face scrunched up, red and wrinkled as he wails, I want to cry with him. Instead, I take a deep breath and slowly release it. “I got you, bud. Shhhh, I got you.”

I pull his baby tub out of the bathtub and set it on the bath mat. Checking the temperature with the little duck, I see the water is ready. I lay Knox down in his tub, which pisses him off even more. Quickly, I remove my boxer briefs, strip him out of his sheet, hold him against my chest, lift the lever to turn the shower on and climb in under the spray.

Holding Knox in one arm, I use the other to bring the detachable shower head down. I turn it to the gentlest stream option, using my leg as leverage. Once I have it where I want it, I slowly rinse us both off. Once we’re both free of the shit and piss we were coated in, I reach for the baby wash. “Looks like Daddy will be smelling powder fresh today,” I tell him.

His little lip quivers, and I’m not sure if he’s cold or if it’s the result of the cry-fest he just had. Either way, I work fast, lathering us both up as good as I can with one hand. I even manage to use it on my hair one-handed. Once we’re both soaped up, I rinse us off quickly and step out of the shower.

The lip quiver gets worse, so I wrap him in a towel and take off for his room. I’m dripping wet, but I didn’t bring a diaper and the little guy is cold. I have him dried and in a diaper in no time with no further mishaps. Dressing him in another sleeper because they’re easy, I use his towel to dry my hair and body.

“All right, little man. Daddy needs some underwear, and then we’ll get you fed.” In my room, I lay him in the center of my bed, making quick work of slipping into a pair of boxer briefs and tossing the towel in the hamper. “Let’s get some breakfast,” I tell him when I pick him up. I can still see the slight quiver of his little lip so I hold him closer, still not sure if it’s cold or sadness.

I’ve gotten pretty good at one-handed bottle-making, so I don’t even attempt to lay him down; I hate it when he cries, and right now he’s content. I hear the coffeemaker turn on just as I pull his bottle out to check the temperature. Perfect. My brew will be done just as he finishes his. I settle into the couch and the little guy begins to gulp. “Slow down, bud. You don’t want a bellyache. Take it from me, that shit is not fun.”

If Mom or Reagan were here, they would give me hell for cussing in front of him, but come on, he can’t repeat it. I look down at him while he eats. I’ve never known this feeling in my heart, the way it swells every time I look at him. To love your child is a feeling that unless you experience it for yourself, you will never understand the meaning. It’s moments like these, like this morning, where he and I get through it together, which make me think that although unexpected, my little man and I will learn to live with our new reality.

By the time he finishes his bottle, he’s sound asleep. I take him to his room and place him back in his bed so I can get us both ready to head out today. In my room, I grab the baby monitor and carry it with me as I get dressed, then head to the kitchen to get his bottles ready for Mom’s. Once that’s done, I go back to his room and as quiet as I can, pack his bag. Diapers, wipes, toys—not that he plays with them—clothes, and just for good measure I throw in extra of all of it. You never can be too careful. I throw his bag over my shoulder and gently lift him from his crib. Downstairs, I strap him into his car seat then gather the diaper and bottle bags. I tap my back pocket to make sure I have my wallet, then the front to check for my phone and keys.

I stop and take a deep breath, and that’s when the smell of coffee hits me. I dig through the cabinet, find the biggest travel mug I can, and fill it up. Not willing to leave him in the house alone, I throw both bags over my shoulder, picking up his carrier with the same arm. Taking my keys out of my pocket, I grab my large steaming mug of coffee. It’s a little challenging to get the door shut, so I end up setting Knox’s carrier on the front porch so I can pull it closed. Placing my coffee on the bed of the truck, I open the door, click the baby seat into place, and throw the bags on the floor. Checking the seat just to make sure it’s secure, I grab my coffee and we’re on the way to Grandma’s.

I arrive to the job site fifteen minutes late. Normally, this isn’t a big issue, but today it is. It’s a big fucking issue. When I pull in, I park behind Kendall.
She’s here with them. Are they hitting on her? Did they see through my bullshit of saying I was staking my claim? Fuck!
I throw the truck in park, pull the keys from the ignition, and stalk to the house.

What I find has me clenching my fists at my sides. I have to remind myself that these guys are my best friends, and she’s not mine. Kendall has her head thrown back laughing, my four best friends laughing and watching her like she’s the star of every fucking wet dream they’ve ever had. She has her hand on Tyler’s shoulder as if she needs him to hold her up. Fuck that, I should be the one holding her up if she needs it.

I stalk into the room and stand behind her. “Morning,” I say. My voice is terser than I want it to be, but it is what it is. She stops laughing and turns her head at the sound of my voice.

“Ridge.” She breathes my name like a fucking caress.

“Didn’t know you were stopping by today.” Although I’d hoped she would.

“Yeah, just wanted to check in.”

“Dude, you fucking smell like little man.” Kent leans over and sniffs me.

“Yeah, we had a diaper malfunction so a bath was required, then he pissed on both of us so I just got in the shower with him. I used his bath stuff too, since I couldn’t use mine on him.” I shrug.

“I love the baby smell.” Kendall blushes.

“Fuck, that shit is a chic magnet. We need to get some,” Seth says.

“Good luck with that,” I say under my breath. Kendall hears me, though, because her eyes sparkle with laughter. Those blue eyes of hers light up the room. She’s fucking gorgeous.

“We should totally bring him out with us one night. The smell might work, but having the real thing with us? Guaranteed pussy, my man,” Mark suggests.

I reach over and smack him on the back at the head at the same time Kendall gasps.

“You can’t do that.” She turns to look at me. “You ever need a sitter, you call me before taking him with you.” Her hand is on her hip and she looks so damn sexy when she’s fired up. “I mean it. You cannot let them use him to get women in their beds.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she blushes a deep red. “I–I mean, if you want to use your son for that, I can’t stop you, but I would be happy to keep him . . .” She looks at the ground.

She’s embarrassed. By this time, I’m standing beside her so I turn to face her, her eyes still on the floor. With my index finger, I lift her chin so she’s looking at me. Only at me. “I would never do that.” I keep my eyes locked on those baby blues, willing her to believe me. She gives a subtle nod, and I run my thumb over her bottom lip. I would give anything to kiss her right now.

“Right, we’re going to unload the trucks,” I hear Kent say.

I don’t acknowledge them, just the fact that I hear their heavy footsteps leaving us alone. My eyes stay on her. I can feel her heavy breath against my hand. Those full lips of hers dying for me to kiss her. “I want to taste these lips, sweet girl,” I whisper.

A sound almost like a moan escapes her. “Ridge,” she murmurs.

I take a step closer.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea. You’re mourning, and I can’t . . .”

Fuck! She doesn’t know about Melissa. To her, it looks like I’m some douche who just lost the love of his life and is already hitting on someone else. I hear the guys outside, so instead of kissing her like I want to, I run my thumb over her bottom lip one last time before releasing her and stepping away.

“It’s not like that, Kendall. Now is not the time to get into it, but I want to. I want to tell you all about Knox’s mom,” I tell her honestly. There’s something about Kendall that draws me in. She’s got me wanting to tell her my entire life’s story, if it gets my lips over hers.

“Yeah.” She clears her throat. “I’m always here to listen anytime you need.”

The guys make a lot of noise, alerting us to their presence before the door slowly opens and they file back in the house. Reaching out, I grab her hand and give it a quick gentle squeeze before releasing her. “Soon.”