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way, then pulled a card from his pocket. “Okay. Here’s my card. My schedule is very busy, but call my assistant and she’ll work you in.”
Work her in. Bridget clenched her teeth slightly at the words, but forced a smile. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”
“Hmm,” he said in a noncommittal tone and walked away.
She barely resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at him.
Raoul appeared by her side. “Are you all right, Your Highness? You look upset.”
“I do?” she asked, composing herself into what she hoped look like a serene expression. She was finding it more and more difficult to pull off instant serenity these days. “I’m fine,” she said. “I’ve just encountered a slight obstacle to completing my assignment for Chantaine.”
She watched Ryder McCall’s broad shoulders and tall form as he wove through the crowd. Slight obstacle was putting it mildly, but she’d learned that a positive attitude could get a woman through a lot of tricky spots. “I need to know everything about Dr. Ryder McCall by morning, if not before,” she muttered and glanced around the room. It was amazing what one could learn about a person in a social situation such as this. She might as well make the best of it.
Ryder walked into his house braced for chaos. His home life had become one big state of chaos bigger than the state of Texas since he’d inherited his brother’s boys. Instead of pandemonium, his home was dark and quiet, except for the sound of a baseball game. Ryder spotted his longtime pal Marshall lounging on the leather couch with a box of half-eaten pizza on the coffee table and a beer in his hand.
“Your sitter called me,” Marshall said, not rising. “As your official backup. She said one of her kids got sick, so she couldn’t stay. Just curious, where am I on that backup list?”
Pretty far down, Ryder thought, but didn’t admit it. There were two middle-aged neighbors, an aunt on the other side of town and his admin assistant before Marshall. Ryder suspected he’d called in favors too often if everyone had refused but Marshall. “Thanks for coming. How are the boys?”
Marshall cracked a wily grin. “Great. Gave them a few Cheerios, wore them out and tossed them into bed.”
“Bath?” he asked.
“The sitter took care of that before I got here. That Travis is a pistol. Didn’t want to go to sleep, so I gave him my best Garth Brooks.”
Ryder gave a tired smile. “Must have worked. I’ll give a quick check and be right back.”
“Cold one’s waiting,” Marshall said.
Ryder trusted Marshall to a degree, but he didn’t think leaving the kids with his buddy from high school on a regular basis was a good idea. He wouldn’t put it past Marshall to slip the boys a sip from his beer if he was desperate enough. When pressured, Marshall could get a little too creative, like the time he hot-wired the car of one of the school’s top wrestlers because his own car had died.
Marshall owned a chain of auto-mechanic shops across Texas. He wore his hair in a ponytail and tattoos were stamped over his arms and back. He hadn’t attended college, but he’d made a success of himself. Most people couldn’t understand their friendship because they appeared to be total opposites, but a mutual appreciation for baseball, some shared holiday dinners which had always included hotdogs and hamburgers and the fact that they both tried to show up during the hard times had made them like family.
With his brother Cory gone, Marshall was the closest thing to family Ryder had. His gut twisted at the thought, but he shoved the feeling aside and gently opened the door to the nursery. He’d learned to walk with stealthlike quiet during the last month. The possibility of waking the boys made him break into a cold sweat.
Moving toward the closest crib, he glanced inside and even in the dark, he knew that this was Tyler, and he was in Travis’s bed. Travis was in Tyler’s bed. He wasn’t going to complain. They were both lying on their backs in la-la land. Which was exactly where he would like to be.
Instead, he walked on quiet footsteps out of the room and gently closed the door behind him. Returning to the den, he saw Marshall still sprawled on his sofa with the same beer in his hand.
“They’re asleep,” Ryder said and sank into a leather chair next to the sofa. He raked his hand through his hair.
“I coulda told you that,” Marshall said. “I made sure they would sleep well tonight.”
He shot a quick glance at Marshall. “You didn’t give them any booze, did you?”
Marshall looked offended. “Booze to babies? What kind of nut job do you think I am?”
“Well, you aren’t around kids very much,” Ryder said.
“Maybe not now, but I was an in-demand babysitter in junior high school. Some things you don’t forget. And just in case you’re worried, this is my second beer. I wouldn’t go on a bender when I was taking care of your kids.”
Chagrined, Ryder rubbed his chin. “You got me. Sorry, bud. Being in charge of two kids is making me a little crazy.”
“A little?” Marshall said and shook his head. “You’ve turned into the nut job. You know what your problem is, you’re no fun anymore. Those babies sense it and it gets them all uptight, too. It’s like a virus. You spread it to the babysitters and it makes them crazy, so they quit. You need to get laid and go to a ball game.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Ryder said. “I’ll take your advice in a decade or so.”
“Lord help us if you wait that long,” Marshall said. “Maybe I could set you up with somebody. Take the edge off.”
Ryder slid him a sideways glance. “I’ll pass. You and I may root for the Texas Rangers, but we don’t share the same taste in women.”
“Your loss,” Marshall said, sitting upright. “I know some women who could wear you out and make you sleep like a baby.”
“I’ve learned babies don’t always sleep that well.”
“It’s your aura,” Marshall said. “That’s what Jenny, my ex, would say. Your aura is poisoning your environment.”
“A dependable nanny is what I need,” Ryder said.
“Well, if you can get a sitter, I’ve got tickets to the Rangers game on Thursday. Take care, buddy,” he said, rising from the couch and patting Ryder on the shoulder. “Keep the faith, bud. And move me up on that backup list. I’m more dependable than your Aunt Joanie. I bet she’s always busy.”
Ryder smiled despite himself. “You got it. Thanks. If I can find a sitter, I’ll go to that game with you.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it. ‘Night,” Marshall said and loped out of the house.
Ryder sank farther into his chair, kicked off his shoes and propped his shoes onto the coffee table. He considered reaching for that beer, but drinking anything would require too much energy. Hearing the roar of the crowd and the occasional crack of the bat hitting the ball from the game on his flat-screen TV with surround system, he closed his eyes.
Making sure the twins were safe, taking care of his patients and covering for Dr. Walters were the most important things in his life, but he knew he needed help, especially with the twins. He’d never dreamed how difficult it would be to find dependable caretakers for the boys. His head began to pound. He could feel his blood pressure rising. Pinching the bridge of his nose, for one moment, he deliberately chose not to think about the next nanny he would need to hire and the deteriorating mental health of his mentor, Dr. Walters.
Ryder thought back to his high school days when he’d been catcher and Marshall had pitched. They’d won the state championship senior year. That weekend had been full of celebration. He remembered a cheerleader who had paid attention to him for the first time. She’d given him a night