“I’m good.”
“All right, see you later.”
I go back to my food, adding lettuce and tomato. My mouth waters and my stomach growls yet again, reminding me I’ve had nothing but junk today. I grab my plate, another bottle of water, and some more chips and head back to the living room. Just as I get settled on the couch, my phone rings again, and I curse the fact that I left it in the kitchen. Setting my plate on the table, I run back to the kitchen and swipe the screen without even looking.
“Hello,” I say breathlessly.
“Kendall?” Reagan’s voice comes over the line. She sounds confused.
“Yeah, sorry. I had to run to get to my phone. What’s up?”
She laughs. “Been there. So, the reason I’m calling—No, wait, I’m on the phone,” she says to someone else. “Sorry about that. Ridge is here to pick Knox up. Anyway, I wanted to invite you and Dawn to the Memorial Day get-together my parents’ have every year. It’s a good time. Dad usually sets off fireworks, because he loves them.” She laughs. “Anyway, there are always a ton of people here, and it would give us the chance to hang out again.”
Ridge will be there. Count me in! “Sure, that sounds fun. I’ll run it past Dawn, but as far as I know we didn’t have anything going on. Thanks for the invite. What should we bring?”
“Nothing. Mom goes overboard every year, so there’s always way too much food left over. Just bring your swimsuits for the pool or hot tub. Other than that, unless you have a specific drink you want, just bring you.”
“Sounds good, thanks.”
“No problem. Okay, I better get off here. Ridge is already taking Knox out to the truck, and I forgot to tell him that his bottles were in the dishwasher. Talk to you soon.” With that, she hangs up.
I shouldn’t be this happy or excited that an old friend from high school invited me to a holiday cookout. I’ve got two weeks to learn how to deal with my body’s reaction to Ridge. Now to just figure out how to do that.
I take my seat on the couch and dive into my dinner. The TV is on, but I have no clue what I’m watching, my mind wandering to earlier today. Maybe it’s not Ridge that’s causing my body to betray me. Maybe I just need to put myself back out there, go on a date.
I finish my sandwich and fight to keep my focus on a Lifetime movie, but I give up after an hour and decide to go to bed. As soon as I slide under the covers, my cell alerts me to a text message. I assume it’s Dawn, letting me know she’s on her way home.
It’s not. It’s Ridge.
I stare at his name on the screen until it goes dark, then hit the Home button again, just so I can make sure my mind isn’t playing tricks on me.
One photo attachment.
What the hell?
I slide my finger across the screen to open his message. It’s a picture of the kitchen. The floor is completely finished, and it looks really good. I save the picture and make a mental note to send it to my grandparents in the morning.
Ping. Another message.
Ridge: Thought you might want to send them an update.
Me: I do. It looks great.
Ridge: Thanks.
Me: Thanks for the picture. They’re going to love it.
Ridge: You’re welcome.
Me: Good night, Ridge.
Ridge: Good night, sweet girl.
The smile on my face is huge. Who wouldn’t be smiling getting a text from the hotness that is Ridge Beckett? I place my phone on the nightstand and drift off to sleep with thoughts of him and his hands all over me.
I’m at the office an hour early. With being off yesterday, I wanted to be able to check my e-mails and go through the pile that’s always waiting for me on my desk after a day off. I get lost in the daily grind getting caught up. It’s not until I hear voices down the hall that I realize that it’s time to start the day for real. I’m covering today for one of the girls. She works every Saturday, but this week, her son had something going on, so I told her I would cover for her. It gave me yesterday off, which was nice.
The schedule is filling quickly as I work on keeping the patients roomed. This keeps the doctors happy, which makes everyone else happy. There is a small break in the schedule. This gives me time to scope out the rest of the day. Scrolling through the patient list, I stop when I see his name.
Knox Beckett.
I open his chart to view the chief complaint. It looks like he’s been fussy for a few days. Poor guy. Last weekend, Ridge had said he’d been off all day. He’s my last patient before lunch, so that will give me the opportunity to take my time. Pathetic right? Excited to delay their visit just to be with him, both of them really. That baby boy is too precious for words.
The rest of my morning seems to drag on. I keep watching the clock wishing for time to move faster.
Finally, the little green bubble beside his name, letting me know that they’ve checked in appears. I waste no time.
“Knox,” I say to the waiting room.
Ridge stands. His inked arms grip the baby carrier as he walks toward me. “Kendall,” he says. It’s almost like I hear relief in his voice.
“Hey.” My voice is all breathy, and I can feel my face flush with embarrassment. Get it together, Dawson! “We’re going to be in room four,” I say, walking along behind them. Once in the room, I shut the door for patient confidentiality and pull up Knox’s chart on the computer. “So, what’s going on with the little guy?” I ask, trying like hell to remain professional.
Ridge runs one hand through his hair, while the other rests on Knox’s seat that is on the exam table. “He’s been fussy. I thought maybe it was just me and that he could tell I was nervous, you know? But then Mom said he’s been that way for her too.”