ELEVEN
Rain
My alarm goes off,making me groan. I silence it on my watch. My eyes fall shut again, and I doze for a moment before my brain kicks on, telling me that it’s time to get up. I wake up slowly and stretch. The sun is shining through the blinds, and I wince as it hits me across the face.
I really need to buy some curtains ASAP.
Rolling over, I check my phone and see I have no new messages. Instinctively, I open up a social media app and start to scroll as I lie on my side, curled into a ball. Before I know it, twenty minutes have passed, and I’m feeling more awake.
When I look at the clock in the corner of my screen, I scramble. I wasted too much time lounging in bed. I need to get ready now, or I’m going to be late for work.
I put my phone down on the nightstand and get out of bed. After grabbing clothes from the closet, I head out of my room and across the hall to the bathroom. Thirty minutes later, I’m dressed, my hair tamed, and makeup on. After dropping my dirty clothes in my bedroom, I grab my phone and purse beforeI head into the kitchen. As I walk in, I see Ridge standing at the stove, cooking.
Even after a few days of being here, I’m not used to not being alone. With Dad being sick, I have felt like I’ve lived on my own for so long that it’s weird to have someone in the house with me. Even when the nurses would come, I was always leaving. It’s odd to slowly get used to another person being around.
“Morning,” Ridge says as he turns toward me, spatula in hand.
“Morning,” I say as I move toward the coffeemaker.
“How did you sleep?” he asks.
“All right. You?” I mumble.
He tips his head from side to side. “Took me a minute to fall asleep, but once I did, I was out.”
“I get that.”
After my coffee is doctored just right, I lean against the counter and watch him. Over the last few days, I’ve learned a lot about him. He spends a lot of time in the kitchen, the man folds laundry as soon as the dryer goes off, and he always puts his dirty dishes in the dishwasher as soon as he’s done eating. Not only that, but he doesn’t wear shoes in the house.
“What are you making?” I ask after a minute.
“Bacon and eggs. There’s enough if you want some,” he offers.
I eye the clock on the stove and see that time is running out. “I would love to, but I can’t. I need to get on the road, or I’ll be late.”
He nods.
“Do you want me to pick up dinner on my way home?” I offer.
I watch as he turns off the burners, and he turns toward me.
“Actually, I was wondering if you would meet me at the clubhouse.”
“Why? What’s up? Is something going on?” My mind races with the possibilities.
Growing up a club kid, you learned that going to the club without notice was usually a bad thing. It meant danger.
“We’re just having a get-together. The guys are worried that you’ve been absent and think I’m holding you hostage. Thought you might want to come and prove them wrong.” He raises a brow, making me chuckle.
“Aw, it’s almost like they like me or something,” I tease.
“Or something. So will you come?”
I nod as I place my cup in the sink. “Sure. I get off at six. If it’s okay, I’ll swing by here to change before I head that way.”
“If you want, I could always take a change of clothes for you to the clubhouse.”
I shake my head. “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t have time to pick something out before I have to go. I’ll just stop by here. It’s on the way.”