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  “Snuggle time with my adorable nephew? You got it, brother.”

  “Thanks, sister.”

  She grins. When we were little, I insisted on calling her ‘sister’ instead of Reagan. When she was old enough to talk, she called me ‘brother.’ Over the years, it’s just kind of stuck. It’s our thing, I guess.

  I carry my little man into the house and unstrap him from his seat. Holding him close, I breathe in his baby scent. In just a few short days, I’ve become addicted to it. Addicted to my son.

  I have a son.

  That knowledge still rocks me to the core. Melissa and her surprise is not something I would have expected. Losing her after her waking up? Well, my world was rocked once again in just a few short days. I’m pissed. How can someone who had their life’s dream in their grasp, someone who lived through so many hardships and obstacles, be taken from this world just when she’s getting what she’s always dreamed of?

  I’m angry, and if I’m being honest, scared out of my fucking mind. Everything he needs falls on me. Those are big shoes to fill.

  “All right, little man. I’m going to go run a few errands, but Aunt Reagan is going to keep you company. You’re in charge,” I tell him.

  “Hey!” Reagan says. Her hands rest on her hips as she tries to glare at me, but I can see the amusement in her eyes. “Give me my nephew and be gone. We have cartoons to watch.”

  I kiss my son on the forehead and hand him over to my sister, doing the same to her once he’s settled in her arms. “Thank you. I’ll hurry.”

  “Don’t. I have nothing to do today. I go back to work on Monday.”

  “Thank you, Reagan. For everything.”

  She smiles and waves me off.

  * * *

  My first stop is the shop. Dad has been here every day keeping things going—this was his business, after all. I pull into a parking spot and look at the building in front of me.

  Beckett Construction.

  Last year, Dad decided it was time to retire. Mom has always been a stay-at-home mom, and business has been good over the years. Dad worked his ass off to make it a success while investing in their future. Retiring early and being able to financially do the things they’ve always wanted to do is the American dream.

  As I stare at the building, I wonder if my son will one day want to work for Beckett Construction. Will he want to continue the legacy my father built? I won’t be that dad who insists that he does. My parents’ let both Reagan and me make our own career choices, and I plan to do the same with my son.

  My son.

  It’s still so new, like I could wake from the dream at any time. Then I remember the heartache, the pain of losing Melissa, the pain that my son will never know his mother. A few quick pictures from my cell phone are all we’ll have, other than her last name as his first. It seemed fitting—and let’s be honest, Knox is a kickass name for my little man.

  Climbing out of the truck, I head inside to find Dad sitting at my desk. His glasses are sitting on the edge of his nose while he reads something on the computer in front of him.

  “What’s got you so enthralled?”

  “Just looking over some invoices. Everything’s good to start the Robinson remodel on Monday.”

  “Good to hear. Thank you, Dad.”

  He waves his hand in the air. “You forget, I started this business,” he reminds me.

  “No. I also didn’t forget that you retired to spend more time with Mom, yet here you are.”

  “Son, filling in for a week or two is no hardship to your mother and me. You have our new grandson at home to take care of. Sure, this was all sprung on us, but if you were married and had been expecting, I would’ve done the same thing, so stop thanking me. Now, how’s my grandson? He had an appointment today, right?”

  “He’s growing. Dr. Harris says all is well. He has to go back in a month.”

  “Good to hear.”

  “Yeah, it’s a relief.”

  “You’re not alone in this, son. You need to lean on us.”

  I love this man. “Thanks, Dad. I know that, I just feel like I need to start doing it on my own. I mean, Mom and Reagan have been there each night and I appreciate it, but I have to do this. You know what I mean?”

  He nods. “I do. I respect the hell out of you for that, Ridge, and I’m damn proud to be your father. Just remember that you don’t have to do this on your own. I understand that you need time to settle in and get you and your boy into a routine. I get that. I also understand that it’s okay to ask for help. Hell, your mother and I relied on your grandparents, both of them, when you kids were little. Parents need to have a life too. You need to find the balance, and we’ll be here to help you do that.”

  “I know. I just need it to be me and him for a while. It’s been a whirlwind and I just want some time with my son, to let it all sink in.”

  “I’ll handle your mother, but Reagan is all yours.” He winks.

  “She’s with him now. I mentioned this earlier, so I think she’ll understand.”

  “Just remember, any time—day or night—we’ll be there.”

  I nod, afraid to speak. Afraid the emotion of the moment will show in my voice. I’m not an overly emotional guy, but anyone who’s seen me this past week would never believe that statement.

  “Now, the Robinson job.” Dad thankfully changes the subject. He notices, but doesn’t mention it.

  I swallow hard. “Yeah, the remodel.”

  “Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Robinson are leaving to go house-hunting in Florida in two weeks. Their plan is to sell the house here and buy a condo, so it’s less maintenance, and also buy a condo in Florida. I talked to Mr. Robinson this morning, and he assures me that his daughter and son-in-law will be here and can make any necessary decisions.”

  “Good. Sounds like it’s all under control. Do you need anything from me? I’ll be back into the swing of things on Monday.”

  “Nope. Got it covered, son. I’ll probably hang out next week and get you caught up on anything I might’ve forgotten. Your mother will be in Heaven spoiling that son of yours.” He grins.

  He acts like Mom is the one who will be doing all the spoiling. I’ll let him pretend, but we both know the truth. Instead, I just smile back at him and nod in agreement.

  After answering a few e-mails, I say good-bye to my dad and head to the store. Mom and Reagan have been cooking and bringing meals, but I still want to stock up on some easy foods. I also want to check out the baby section. My parents’ and friends, along with Reagan, picked out everything for Knox’s room, and I just want to shop for my son, for once. I have no clue what he needs or what I should even buy, but I just feel this need to get him something. I know clothes are always a good thing, but I don’t know what size.

  Me: Hey, I’m at the store. What size clothes does he wear?

  Pathetic, I know. I have to text my sister to find out what size clothes to buy my son. Newborn, I assume? I don’t want to be that dad; I want to know how to take care of my son on my own. I still have a hell of a lot to learn though.

  Reagan: 0–3 months right now. They’re a little big, but he’s going to grow. Don’t get newborn.

  Well, shit. Good thing I asked her.

  Me: Thanks.

  Slipping my phone into my pocket, I grab a cart and head toward the hygiene products. I grab body wash, deodorant, razors, shaving cream, and shampoo. From there, I head to the baby section. I can honestly say this is an all-time first for me. Pulling my phone back out of my pocket, I pull up my photo gallery, having snapped a picture of his diapers and formula before leaving today. I grab three packs of diapers, since the little guy seems to go through them like crazy. I also grab a box of wipes, because I don’t want that shit on me—literally. Next stop is the formula. I add three cans to my cart and skim over all the other items. Baby food, cereal, teething biscuits. I’m overwhelmed, but I assume he’s not old enough for this stuff or Mom and Reagan would’ve already had a supply ready to go. The next aisl
e over is toys and pacifiers. My little guy loves his, and it’s been a lifesaver at times when I couldn’t get his bottle ready fast enough. I throw another pack in the cart; it’s the same as he has now, so I should be good to go. On second thought, I grab the package and read the back. Newborn. Perfect. I toss it back into the cart and wheel a little further down the aisle to the toys.

  I find a set of plush car keys. The package says they’re soft, which I assume is a good thing, so I pick up a few more, plus a couple other toys that the packaging assures me are good for my baby’s development. I grab a couple more packs of bottles because those things are a bitch to clean; plus, the more you have the better, right? There’s also this basket thing for the dishwasher—that’s a must-have. I toss it in the cart as well.

  The next aisle is blankets and towels, and I grab a few of each along with a pack of wash cloths, burp cloths, and receiving blankets. Cloth diapers? No, thank you. I roll right on past those.

  Onesies? I didn’t know that’s what they were called, but he wears them. I grab a pack of eight plain white in 0–3 months and toss them into the cart, adding some socks as well. They’re so damn tiny.

  Turning the corner, I see the clothes. I have no clue as to what I really need, so I’m just tossing random shit into the cart. Sleepers. I know those are easy to dress him in, and who doesn’t want to lie around in pajamas all day? I pick out a few and add them to the cart. I come across what looks like the baby version of sweatpants; they are so damn small I can’t help the smile that tips up my lips. I grab a couple pairs, thinking he can wear them with those body suit things—onesies, I think it was?

  A few more random clothing items and the cart is filling up. I’m now in the furniture, where I see a pen-looking thing that’s called a Pack ‘n Play. I pull out my phone to do some research. Looks like it’s used to travel, with a safe place for him to sleep. Might be useful for the living room, or even the office when I need to get things done. I grab one off the shelf and slide it under the cart.

  The next thing that catches my eyes is a bouncing seat. The box says it’s soothing, and again I pull out my phone and research. All good reviews. I grab the one that has all the bells and whistles—literally, as it has toys attached. I slide it under the cart next to the pen thing. The next aisle is books, and I grab one about what to expect during the first year of life. Looking down, my cart is loaded with things for my son. A sense of pride fills me that I can afford to do this for him, to give him the things he needs.

  With one last quick glance, I leave the baby section behind and head toward the groceries, getting milk, eggs, bread, lunch meat, chips, and frozen pizza. Laundry detergent for me and more for Knox. Mom brought some over, but you never know when you’ll need it, and I don’t want to run out. Those final additions have my cart overflowing—another first for me.

  I head toward the front of the store, needing to get home.

  I miss my little man.

  Chapter 12

  Kendall

  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 empty hand tugs 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.

  Chapter 13

  Ridge

  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.