Unexpected Reality (14 page)

Aunt Flow has decided to make her appearance a few days early. I’m cranky and irritable, and the last thing I want to do is brave the grocery store. I don’t have a choice, though, since Dawn is working late today. I thought about texting her to bring some supplies home, but I’ve searched the house high and low and we have nothing. How is it possible that out of the two of us, we have one tampon in this entire house? I strip out of my scrubs, throw on some yoga pants and a Sam Hunt concert T-shirt, and tie my hair in a knot on top of my head.

Good enough.

It’s not like I have anyone to impress.

At the store, I don’t bother with a cart, just head straight for the feminine hygiene section. I grab two boxes of tampons and two boxes of panty liners and call it good, stopping at the first register to wait in line. I can’t help but notice the guy in front of me. He’s wearing jeans that mold to his ass, not leaving anything to the imagination, and a black T-shirt that fits tight around his muscular arms. Tattoos peek through, running down his arm.
Wait, those tattoos look familiar. Tall, dark hair, inked . . . Please don’t let it be him. Shit!
I’m not taking the chance of him seeing me like this; I look like hell, and have an entire arsenal of menstrual supplies in my arms.

I turn quickly, as though I forgot something, and bump into the cart behind me. Dammit, why is she standing so close?

“Sorry,” the little old lady—who reminds me of my grandma—says.

How can I be mad about that?

“No problem, I just forgot. . . .”

“Kendall?” his deep voice rumbles from behind me.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The little old lady winks at me. Seriously? I feel my face flush, but know I have to turn around. Sucking in a deep breath, I slowly release it as I turn.

Ridge fucking Beckett, just as I thought. Looking fine as hell and smiling at me.

“Ridge, hi,” I squeak out. My hands tug on my T-shirt, wishing it were longer. I feel bloated and nasty, and I just want to wake up from this nightmare. No woman wants to be seen like this by a man who looks like Ridge.

“Hey.” His eyes roam over my body from head to toe, eventually landing back on mine. “Early day?” he asks.

“Yeah, just stopping for a few things.” I raise my arms and immediately drop them. What the hell am I doing? I’m sure during his appraisal of my body he saw them, but I didn’t have to offer up my tampon surplus to him on a silver fucking platter.

“Yeah.” He grins. “Me too.” He steps to the side so I can see his cart, which is overflowing with baby supplies plus some other items piled on top.

“You do know what ‘a few’ means, right?” I tease him.

He blushes. Ridge fucking Beckett blushes.
I made him blush!
“Yeah, I just . . . wasn’t really sure what he needed and wanted to stock up,” he admits.

From the look of his cart, he bought the basics. I would’ve thought he and the mother had planned for this before now. “Got a little bit of everything, I see. One of the girls at work has that same bouncer; we bought it for her at her shower. She swears by it.” Now I’m just rambling. Could this moment be any more embarrassing?

“Yeah, I, uh, read the reviews. They’re good. I hope he likes it.” A soft smile lights up his already handsome face.

“I’m sure he will.” I know it’s none of my business, but his situation intrigues me. I would’ve thought all of this was done, that she would’ve had a shower.

“Sir?” the cashier says.

“Sorry,” Ridge replies before turning to me. “You want to go first?” He eyes the four small boxes in my arms.

“No, you go ahead.”
I want to ogle you without you knowing.

He begins placing his items on the belt, and I watch every move he makes—the flex of the muscles in his arms, the way he stacks each item as if it’s his precious baby boy. I watch as he lifts a small blue bear from the cart, tucking it under one arm while he loads everything else on the belt. The bear is the final item, other than the big stuff on the bottom of his cart. It gives me that feeling—you know, the one that makes you feel like your entire body is melting into a pile of goo—seeing this man manhandle a small stuffed bear for his newborn son as if it’s the most important thing in the world.

Goo. Big ole pile of mushy feel goodness right here in line at the local Walmart. Not a woman alive could resist the effect the scene before me creates.

Ridge places his bags in his cart and pays. As he’s taking his receipt, he turns to me. “Good to see you again, Kendall. I guess me and the little man will be seeing you in about a month.”

It takes my brain a minute to catch up; I’m still drooling over him. “Right, his one-month appointment. I’ll see you then.” I smile politely.

Ridge gives me a small wave and then he’s gone. I place my four boxes on the belt and the cashier, a young girl, smirks at me. “He’s hot,” she says bluntly.

Oh, honey, you have no idea.
I don’t reply, just smile at her and pull out my debit card. I swipe my card, grab my bag and receipt, and head for the door. I’ve had enough embarrassment for one day.

At least, that’s what I thought. In the parking lot, I find that big black truck I parked beside belongs to him. He’s standing at the tailgate with a still-full cart, talking to a guy in another big truck. As I get closer, I see there’s a Beckett Construction logo on the side.

“Kendall, hey, you remember Seth, right?” Ridge says as I approach my car.

“Seth, hi. Good to see you,” I reply politely, trying like hell to hide my embarrassment.

“Kendall?” Seth asks.

“She was in Reagan’s class.”

“Yes!” Seth exclaims. “Sorry, darlin,’ it’s been a few years. Good to see you,” he says with a wink.

“You too. Well, I better get going. Ridge, I’ll see you soon.”

He nods with a wave, and I don’t give him time to say anything else as I climb into my car. Lucky for me, the spot in front of me is empty, so I put my car in drive and pull out of the lot, leaving the hotness of Ridge behind me.

Seth and I talk for a few more minutes. I try to concentrate on what he’s saying, but the lovely Kendall seems to have taken up residence in my mind. She’s gorgeous and sweet as hell. Fuck my life for not being able to pursue her. I love my son, but damn. I shake away thoughts of her and focus on Seth.

He and the guys are going to stop by tonight. I told him that was fine, but they needed to bring food. Apparently, their moms bought some things for Knox. I’ve never been more thankful for our close knit group. It’s nice to know that I have so many people in my corner.

Once home, I unload all the bags, put the food items away, and go in search of my sister and my son. I find them out on the back deck, Knox sleeping soundly in one arm while Reagan holds her Kindle with the other. She’s so engrossed in the book she’s reading she doesn’t even realize I’m watching her.

“You should be more alert when you have my son,” I say.

My voice startles her and she jumps, causing Knox to open his eyes before closing them again just as quickly.

Stepping outside, I shut the patio door and walk toward them. Leaning down, I take him from her. She juts her lip out in protest, but I need to hold him.

“You weren’t gone long,” she comments.

“I was gone for four hours, sister.” I laugh.

She grins, holding up her Kindle. “It’s really good,” she defends.

I just shake my head. She’s always loved to read. “I stopped by the office, talked to Dad, answered a few e-mails then went to Walmart.”

“How was Dad?”

“Good. He’s going to talk to Mom. I just need some time with him, you know?”

“Yeah, we’re just a phone call away. You got this, brother.”

“Hey, I ran into Kendall.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she was behind me in line. Speaking of, I have a ton of shit—” I look down at my son sleeping in my arms. “I mean
stuff
that I need to unpack for him. You feel like helping?”

“Sure, I love all the little baby stuff. I had a blast when Mom and I went shopping for him,” she admits.

I stand and lead the way into the living room, where I left the remaining bags.

“Holy shit, Ridge. Did you buy the entire store?” She laughs.

“No, but he needs stuff, and I’m his dad. It’s my job to provide for him. I just got him a little bit of everything—more clothes and blankets and towels and stuff.”

“I can see that.” She starts unloading bags and comes across the tiny sweatpants, holding them up. “Too damn adorable.”

“Tiny,” I reply.

“You did good. I’ll unpack these clothes and throw them in the washer.”

“Thank you. I need to put his pen thing together and the bouncing seat. Can you hang out for a while? I’d like to have that done before I brave my night alone.”

“You got it. It’s almost time for him to eat anyway.”

“I’ll do it. Then I’ll get started.” I need as much practice as I can get; that way, when it’s just me and him, I’ll feel more comfortable.

I strap Knox into his car seat, not taking any chances, and carry him to the kitchen. I quickly mix up a bottle, something I’ve mastered in just a few short days. Little man is snoozing away, so I set the bottle next to his seat on the table and make Reagan and me a sandwich. I inhale mine, just shoving in the last bite when he starts to fuss.

Perfect timing. I got this dad thing down.

Knox takes his bottle like a champ. I piss him off when I stop to burp him, but it’s for his own good. I hate to hear him cry, but I know this is important or he’ll get a bellyache later; the nurses at the hospital stressed it, as has my mom and Reagan. I’m still not sure how Reagan knows so much about kids. I think it’s just a woman thing. She played house growing up, feeding and taking care of her dolls while I played cowboys and Indians and pretended to have shoot-outs.

Four ounces, two burps, and a diaper change later, my little man is content and snoozing away. I fold up an old quilt and make a small square on the floor next to me, gently laying him there to nap.

Reagan comes into the room. “Hey, all the clothes and blankets and all that are in the washer. What’s next?”

“I’m going to start putting stuff together. You can just relax unless he needs something.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” She plops down on the couch and crosses her legs. “Carry on.” She waves her hand at me.

I chuckle at her. I love my sister. Surprisingly, the bouncing seat—or bouncer, as Reagan calls it—has very little assembly; I just snap the legs in and the toys bar, and we’re good to go. I add the four batteries as needed, and it roars to life. Reagan hops off the couch and picks Knox up from the floor. He stretches his little arms and legs and grunts; he was sleeping well.

“You won’t sleep tonight, you little stinker,” she tells him as she gently places him in the bouncer and straps him in. She turns it on and he falls right back to sleep. “He likes it.” She grins.

He does seem to like it. I open the Pack ‘n Play and to my surprise, it’s limited assembly as well. It comes in a carrying case for travel—that’s a plus. It folds open, and I lock it into place. There’s a table-type piece that fits on the top.

“That’s so you can change him. Say you’re at the office. You don’t have to lay him on the floor, or your desk, and you won’t have to lean over the side. That would be awkward,” Reagan explains.

“That’s so handy. At least, I think it will be.”

“Yep, it’ll be perfect for poker night with the guys. You’ll know he has a safe place to play and sleep.”

“I doubt there will be many poker nights in my future.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I have a baby, Reagan.”

“And? You’re a dad, Ridge, but you’re still you. You need to have a life too.”

“He’s my life.”

“I get that, I do, but you have to live for you too. You have to find the balance. There’s nothing wrong with poker night. You just take him with you, and bring this—” she points to the Pack ‘n Play “—pack a diaper bag and you’re good to go. You know the guys are going to be onboard with it.”

“Yeah, it’s just going to take some time for me to get a routine. To feel comfortable taking him out like that on my own.”