Page 77 of With A Little Luck
“Without so much as a paternity test.” He steps out onto the driveway to wait for the truck. “Would you ask Quincy for one?”
He’s got me there.
No, if I was in his shoes, I probably wouldn’t. Once you utter those words, they can’t be taken back.
There are certain circumstances where I could see myself asking for one, but I understand why he would be hesitant to do so. Even if she’s understanding—which I think she would be—it’ll still always be in the back of her mind.
“You gonna help or should I text Knox?” he asks, startling me out of my thoughts.
I sigh.
The goal was to see if I could find an ally against Trigg, and I’m not sure I accomplished that. Ridge is a hell of a lot more tolerable than the psychopath, but I let my pride get the better of me, and I picked a fight rather than finding something we could bond over.
It’s complicated.
I’m normally fully confident in who I am and what I bring to the table, but Ridge and Quincy share something I’ve never experienced.
They created alife.
I’m sure that bonds two people in a way someone who doesn’t have kids would struggle to understand. At least, that’s what it feels like being on the outside, looking in.
“You get tackled one too many times in your career?” Ridge asks, laughing obnoxiously when I take too long to answer his earlier question.
Raising a hand, I flip him off this time, despite how awkward it is in the gloves he gave me. “Let’s get this shit done. I’m freezing my balls off.”
Ridge and I unload an ungodly number of boxes. The second truck has labeled packages that give away what’s inside. Ridge must have dropped ten grand on baby shit—if not more.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him, but Quincy already has a crib and a car seat. She told me about it when she got them. At the time, I planned to surprise her with the matching changing table and dressers. It looks like Ridge has that covered, though.
Ridge cuts open boxes from the first delivery, digging around in each.
I wait on the steps.
I’m itching to get inside and out of the cold, but more than that, I need to check on Quincy.
I left her with Trigg, of all people.
Ridge tugs a black and red plastic storage bin from one of the boxes. It’s huge, stretching his arms wide as he strides toward the steps. “You mind getting that? My hands are full.”
He nods at the door, and I get my shit together. I head in first and Ridge follows, kicking the door closed behind him.
“What’s all that?” I ask over my shoulder.
“I might need you to take credit for this one. We’ll see how it goes,” Ridge grumbles, picking up his pace to walk past me.
I have to flatten my back against the wall to keep from getting smacked with the bin.
He takes the turn into the living room, and I follow behind him, still really confused about what’s happening.
Quincy is stretched out on the long end of the sectional with a throw blanket tucked around her and King snuggled behind her feet.
The dog opens one eye and closes it.
I snort.
I’m pretty sure he was checking for Trigg.
Quincy is awake and facing the TV. Her head tilts to get a look at us, and her eyes widen. “Whoa, what’s all that?”
