Series Starter Firsts in Series Collection - Kaylee Ryan Page 0,55

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.

Me: What exactly am I looking at?

Ridge: Cabinets.

Me: Right. I should’ve known that. Looks like a busy day.

Ridge: Busy is good. Keeps the mind occupied.

Me: My mind is plenty occupied. 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.

Chapter 21

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