Series Starter Firsts in Series Collection - Kaylee Ryan Page 0,63

the feeling. I kept running our conversation over in my head. I can’t believe I just spilled my guts to him about Cal, that I admitted he hit me. Dawn is the only person I’ve told. I never wanted to tell anyone else, but Ridge has such a commanding way about him that he had me singing like a damn canary.

Mom and Dad are due home tomorrow, and my original plan was to stop by the house this morning on my way to work. I’m hesitant; I want to see him, but will it be different? He said he wanted me, but what does that mean exactly? That question alone has kept me awake for the second night in a row. I climb out of bed and shower, even though I still have two hours left to sleep. It’s just not happening.

After my shower, I dress for work and make my way to the kitchen, deciding to make some homemade cinnamon rolls. I’m just finished with my third cup of coffee and cleaning up when Dawn strolls into the kitchen.

“How long until they’re done?” she asks.

I laugh. I knew as soon as the smell hit her room, she would be awake; my homemade cinnamon rolls are her weakness. It’s actually my dad’s recipe. We would make them every year for Mother’s Day and Mom’s birthday. “About five more minutes,” I say, sliding a cup of coffee across the counter to her.

“Bless you.” She moans as she takes her first sip. “Why are you up so early?”

“One guess,” I tell her.

“Ridge fucking Beckett.” She giggles. “Even his name is hot as hell.”

I nod, because she’s right.

“Have you heard from him?”

“We texted last night. He sent me the cutest picture of Knox.” I grab my phone and pull up the message to show her the picture.

“So, yeah, the baby is adorable, but look at his dad.”

I blush, because yeah, I did that too. Knox is in nothing but a diaper, curled up in a ball, his little hands under his chin as he sleeps on Ridge’s bare chest. His hard arms, his ink, the tiny baby, that he has his large hand on his back, holding him close. . . .

“Ovary fucking explosion,” Dawn says.

“Right?”

“So, you going over there today?”

“That was the plan, but I don’t know. I didn’t tell him I was.”

“Do it. See how he acts. I mean, damn, Kendall. He told you he wanted you—not that it was a surprise to anyone. Hell, even Reagan said she thinks he’s interested.”

“Wait, she did? When? How did you not tell me this?”

She laughs. “The same night as your epic phone call. She did my manicure, which I wasn’t expecting, and we talked.”

“What did she say, exactly?”

“Just that she thinks her brother is into you. She wanted to see if you were seeing anyone and if I thought you were interested.”

“And you told her what?” It’s like pulling teeth to get her to talk.

“That you were available and you were interested as well.”

“Dawn! Shit. Do you think that’s what the phone call was about?”

“No, definitely not. She and I went to dinner after and we closed the place down. It was after eleven by the time we left the restaurant parking lot. You said you talked to him until a little before eleven, right?”

“Yeah.”

“See, that was all him. No outside influence, but honestly, I want to see you happy, so I hope she tells him.”

“Gah!”

“Relax. You’re interested, right?”

Hell yes! “Yeah,” I say instead. “But I can’t be a rebound. I won’t be.”

“Talk to him. He said he wanted to tell you about Knox’s mom, right? Don’t assume, Kendall.”

I study her. “What do you know?”

She shrugs. “I’m willing to plant the seed, but I’m not about pulling the damn weeds. You have to talk to him. Open up, tell him about Cal.”

“I already did,” I say, shocking her.

Her mouth drops open, but she quickly recovers. “Good. Now, you need to let him tell his story. After you’re both informed of the other’s past, you can decide together what the future holds, if anything. Just don’t push him away until you know the facts.”

I don’t reply, because there really is nothing to say. That’s exactly what I was trying to do. She knows me all too well.

“What are you going to do with all of these? If I eat them all, I’ll have to live in the gym for the next month.”

I look over at the double batch of cinnamon rolls. “I guess I’m