Juniper Hill (The Edens) Read online

  We made it.

  Quincy might not be our forever home. But forevers were for dreamers. And I’d stopped dreaming the day I’d started ranking my worst days. There’d been so many, it had been the only way to keep moving forward. To know that none had been as awful as the first-worst day. To know that if I’d survived that one, I could endure the second and the third and the fourth.

  Today marked the fifth.

  It had started at a gas station in North Dakota. I’d pulled over last night to get some sleep. Twenty minutes, that’s all I’d wanted. Then I’d planned to get back on the road. Drake had been zonked and I hadn’t wanted to wake him up by hauling him into a seedy hotel.

  Napping in the car had been a reckless decision. I’d thought I was safe beneath the parking lot’s bright lights. My eyes hadn’t been closed for more than five minutes when a truck driver had knocked on my window, licking his lips.

  I’d sped away and, hopefully, run over his toes.

  My heart had hammered for the next hour, but once the adrenaline had worn off, soul-deep exhaustion had burrowed under my skin. I’d been afraid of falling asleep at the wheel so I’d pulled over on the interstate to hop out and jog in place under the stars. I’d stretched for all of thirty seconds before a bug had flown under my shirt and left two bites along my ribs.

  The sting had kept me awake for the next hour.

  At dawn, I’d found another turnoff to stop and change Drake. When I’d lifted him out of his seat, he’d spit up all over my shirt, forcing me to give myself a baby-wipe bath. Any normal day, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. But it had been one more straw and my back was close to breaking.

  During our last gas station stop, he’d started crying. With the exception of a few short naps, he hadn’t really stopped.

  Hours of that wail and I was fried. I was weary. I was scared. I was nervous.

  My emotions were battling each other, fighting to take first place. Fighting to be the one that pushed me over the edge.

  But we’d made it. Somehow, we’d made it.

  “Let’s go check out our new spot.” I kissed Drake as he squirmed—he had to be hungry—then shifted him to the cradle of my arm. With one hand, I hefted out the next duffel in the stack, but I’d forgotten how heavy it was. The nylon strap slipped from my fingers, the bag plopping to the ground. “Ugh.”

  “I’ll get it.” A deep, rugged voice sounded from behind me, then came the crunch of boots on gravel.

  I stood, ready to smile and introduce myself, but the second I spotted the man walking my way, my brain scrambled.

  Tall. Broad. Tattooed. Gorgeous.

  Why had I kept driving last night? Why hadn’t I stopped at a hotel with a shower?

  I was in no place to crush on a guy. The new Memphis—mom Memphis—was too busy getting formula stains out of her shirts to preen for men. But the old Memphis—single, rich and always up for an orgasm or two Memphis—really, really liked sexy, bearded men.

  He bent and picked up the duffel before grabbing the largest suitcase from the trunk. His biceps strained the sleeves of his gray T-shirt as he carried them both toward the garage. Narrow hips. Sinewed forearms. Long legs covered in faded jeans.

  Who was he? Did he live here? Did it matter?

  Drake whined and that sound snuffed the laser beam that had been my gaze on this guy’s sculpted ass.

  What the hell was wrong with me? Sleep. I needed sleep.

  Before anyone could catch me staring, I dropped my chin and rushed after him, pausing long enough to snag the diaper bag from the backseat.

  The metal on the stairs gave a low hum with each step. The man had almost made it to the landing when Eloise popped out.

  “Good, you’re helping.” She smiled at him, then waved us all inside. “Knox Eden, meet Memphis Ward. Memphis, this is my brother Knox. This is his house.”

  Knox set down the bags and jerked up his chin. “Hi.”

  “Hi. This is Drake. Thanks for renting us your apartment.”

  “I’m sure another spot will open up in town.” He shot Eloise a glare. “Soon.”

  The tension rolling through the loft was thicker than traffic on East Thirty-Fourth from FDR Drive to Fifth Avenue.

  Winslow studied the honey-colored floors while Eloise narrowed her gaze at her brother.

  Meanwhile Knox did nothing to disguise the irritation on his face.

  “Is, um . . . is this place not for rent?” It would be on par for my day to arrive somewhere I was unwelcome.

  “No, it’s not,” he said as Eloise said, “Yes, it is.”

  “I don’t want to cause any trouble.” My stomach churned. “Maybe we should find another place.”

  Eloise crossed her arms over her chest, raising her eyebrows as she waited for her brother to speak. She was too pretty to be intimidating, yet I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that look.

  “Fine,” Knox grumbled. “Stay as long as you need.”

  “Are you sure?” Because it sounded a lot like he was lying. I’d heard my fair share of lies as a New York socialite.

  “Yeah. I’ll get the rest of your bags.” Knox breezed past me, the scent of sage and soap filling my nose.

  “Sorry.” Eloise put her hands on her cheeks. “Okay, I need to be honest. When you called and said there weren’t any apartments around town, I did some checking too. And you’re right. Nothing is available in your price range.”

  I groaned. So she’d pawned me off on her unwilling brother. I was a charity case.

  Old Memphis would have refused charity.

  Mom Memphis didn’t have that luxury.

  “I don’t want to intrude.”

  “You’re not,” Eloise said. “He could have told me no.”

  Why did I get the feeling it was hard for people to tell her no? Or that she rarely accepted it as an answer? After all, that was how I’d driven out here.

  After an hour-long Zoom interview, I’d fallen in love with the idea of working for Eloise and I hadn’t even seen the hotel premises. She’d smiled and laughed through our conversation. She’d asked about Drake and complimented my résumé.

  I’d taken this job not because I aspired to clean rooms, but simply because she was the anti-Father. There was nothing cold, ruthless or cunning about Eloise. My father would hate her.

  “Are you sure about this?” I asked.

  “Absolutely. Knox just isn’t used to having people out here. But it will be fine. He’ll adjust.”

  Was that why he’d built a home full of glass? Out here, he didn’t need the privacy of walls. The location gave him seclusion. And I was intruding.

  We didn’t have a lease agreement. As soon as a vacancy in town came open, I doubted Knox would mind losing my rent check.

  He came striding up the staircase, the thud from his boots reverberating through the loft. His frame filled the doorway as he walked inside carrying another three bags.

  “I can get the rest,” I said as he set them on the floor. “And I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know we’re here.”

  Drake chose that moment to let out a screech before nuzzling toward my breast.

  Knox’s mouth pursed in a thin line before he retreated down the stairs.

  “Can we help you get unpacked?” Winslow asked. “I’d much rather stay here than head back out on patrol and write speeding tickets.”

  “No, that’s okay. I can handle it. There isn’t much.” Just my entire life in bags. “Thank you for rescuing me today.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Are we still on for an orientation tomorrow?” I asked Eloise.

  “Sure. But if you want a day or two to settle in before work—”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I’d like to jump right in.”

  Dive headfirst into this new life. Drake was starting at his daycare tomorrow and though I hated leaving him for the day, that was the life of a single mother.

  The daycare cost would swallow thirty-one percent of my income. Quincy had a low cost of living compared to larger Montana towns, and renting this loft at only three hundred dollars a month would allow me to build a cushion, but unpaid weekdays were not an option. Not yet.

  Life would have been easier, financially, in New York. But it wouldn’t have been a life. It would have been a prison sentence.

  “Okay.” Eloise clapped. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Come in whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thank you.” I held out my hand once more because shaking her hand was important. It was one of the few lessons my father had taught me that I didn’t loathe.

  “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Me too.”

  Winslow and Eloise waved as they walked out the door. Another whimper from Drake sent me flying into action, digging out a bottle from the diaper bag before we settled on the couch. While he chugged, I surveyed my new temporary home.

  The white walls were pitched with the roofline and a thick wooden beam the color of the floors ran the length of the space. Three dormer windows had been cut into the side facing the house, giving me a view of Juniper Hill and the indigo mountains beyond. Alcoves and half walls created different compartments in the floorplan.

  Across from the couch and behind a short partition was a bed covered in a patchwork quilt. The kitchen was on one side of the loft, next to the door, while the bathroom was at its opposite. The space was just large enough for a shower stall, sink and toilet.

  “You’ll have to have baths in the sink,” I told Drake, taking the empty bottle from his mouth.

  He stared up at me with his beautiful brown eyes.

  “I love you.” I hadn’t told him that enough on this drive. We hadn’t had enough moments like this, just the two of us together. “What do you think about this?”

  Drake blinked.

  “I like it too.”

  I burped him, then dug out a baby blanket, settling him on the floor while I rushed to bring in the last couple of loads and unpack.

  Hours later, my clothes were refolded and put away in the one and only dresser. The drawers built into the bedframe I used for Drake’s outfits. The small closet was stuffed by the time I hung a few coats and sweaters, then stowed the large suitcases stuffed with smaller suitcases stuffed with bags and backpacks.

  I’d bought two sandwiches at the last gas station I’d stopped at, thinking there wouldn’t be time to make a grocery store run, so I ate my dry ham and swiss, chasing it down with some water, and went about giving Drake his first kitchen-sink bath.

  He fell asleep in my arms before I placed him in his portable crib. I summoned enough energy to shower and wash my hair, then crashed within seconds of my head hitting the pillow.

  But my son wasn’t much for letting me rest these days and just after eleven he woke up hungry and fussy. One bottle, one clean diaper and one hour later, he showed no signs of sleep.

  “Oh, baby. Please.” I paced the length of the loft, walking past the open windows, hoping the clean, cool air would settle him down.

  Except Drake was not having it. He cried and cried, like he did most nights, squirming because he just was not comfortable.

  So I walked and walked, bouncing and swaying with every step.

  A light from Knox’s house flipped on as I passed a window. A flash of skin caught my eye and stopped my feet.

  “Whoa.”

  Knox was shirtless, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. They molded to his strong thighs. The waistband clung to the V at his hips.

  My neighbor, my landlord, wasn’t just muscled, he was cut. He was a symphony of rippled muscle that sang in perfect harmony with his handsome face.

  Pure temptation, poised at the window of a woman who could not afford to stray from her path.

  But what was the harm in a look?

  I hovered beside the window’s frame, staying out of sight, and stole another glance as he raised a towel to dry the ends of his dark hair.

  “Not everything about today was bad, was it?” I asked Drake as Knox strode out of his bedroom. “At least we’ve got a great view.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  KNOX

  There was no place I’d rather be than standing in my kitchen, a knife in hand, with the scents of fresh herbs and baked bread swirling in the air.

  Eloise swept through the swinging door that connected the kitchen to the restaurant. “And right through here is the kitchen.”

  Correction. There was no place I’d rather be than standing in my kitchen alone.

  “Isn’t it awesome?” she asked over her shoulder.

  Memphis stepped out from behind Eloise, and I did a double take. Her blond hair was straight and hanging in sleek panels over her shoulders. The bright lights brought out the caramel flecks in her brown eyes. Her cheeks were rosy and her soft lips painted a pale pink.

  Well . . . fuck.

  I was in trouble.

  It was the same woman I’d met yesterday, but she was a far cry from the frazzled, exhausted person who’d moved into the loft. Memphis was . . . striking. I’d thought the same yesterday, even with blue circles beneath her eyes. But today her beauty was distracting. Trouble.

  I had no time for trouble.

  Especially when it came to my new tenant.

  My knife worked through a batch of cilantro, my hand moving faster as I focused on the task at hand and ignored this intrusion.

  “If the fridge in the break room is ever full, you can keep your lunch in here,” Eloise said, gesturing to the walk-in.

  Wait. What? The knife dropped from my palm, nearly hitting a finger. No one kept their lunch in here. Not even my waitstaff. Granted, they rarely had to bring meals because I’d typically cook them a meal. Still . . . that walk-in was off-limits.

  Eloise knew it was off-limits. Except my wonderfully annoying sister seemed intent on forcing Memphis into every aspect of my life. Wasn’t my home enough? Now my kitchen?

  “Okay.” Memphis nodded, scanning the room, looking everywhere but at where I stood at the stainless-steel prep table in the center of the space.

  She inspected the gas range along one wall, then the industrial dishwasher at her back. On the walls were shelves filled with clean ceramic plates and coffee mugs. She studied the tiled floor, the rows of spices and racks crammed with hanging pots and pans.

  “Here’s the ice machine.” Eloise walked to the cooler, lifting the lid. “Help yourself.”

  “All right.” Memphis’s voice was no more than a murmur as she tucked a lock of hair behind an ear. She’d promised yesterday to be quiet. I guess she intended to keep that vow at the hotel too.

  I glanced at Eloise, then jerked my chin to the door. The tour was over. This was a kitchen. Just a commercial kitchen with bright lights and shiny appliances. And I was busy. This was my time alone to breathe and think.

  But did Eloise take the hint and leave?

  Of course not. She took up space against my table and leaned. Why the fuck was she leaning?

  I clamped my teeth together and picked up my knife, gripping the handle until my knuckles were white. Normally I’d tell Eloise to scram, but I was making nice at the moment. Very nice.

  This niceness was the reason I’d agreed to let Memphis crash in the loft above my garage. My sister had asked for a favor, and at the moment, I was granting them all. Soon enough, we’d have a difficult conversation. One I’d been dreading and avoiding. One that would change our relationship.

  Until then, I’d let her invade my kitchen and allow her newest employee to stay at my home.

  “So that’s the hotel,” Eloise told Memphis.

  “It’s beautiful,” Memphis said. “Truly.”

  Eloise circled the room with a finger. “Knox renovated the kitchen and restaurant last winter. That’s when my parents annexed the building next door for events.”

  “Ah.” Memphis nodded, still looking anywhere but at me.

  The crunch of cilantro beneath my knife filled the silence.

  My parents owned the actual hotel, The Eloise Inn, but the restaurant and kitchen were mine. The building itself we’d incorporated as a separate entity, the shares split equally between us.

  Originally, this space had been a smaller industrial kitchen attached to a basic ballroom. They’d rented out the space for weddings and events, but when I’d moved home from San Francisco years ago, I’d filled the room with tables. It had worked as a restaurant for a while, but it had lacked style and flow. When I’d told Mom and Dad that I wanted to convert it to an actual restaurant, they’d jumped at the chance to expand the hotel’s footprint and grab the building next door.

  According to our projections, the annex would pay for itself within the next five years. My renovations would pay for themselves in three assuming the traffic at the restaurant didn’t die off. Considering I had the only upscale restaurant in town, I’d happily cornered that market.

  “Would you mind if I stepped out for a minute?” Memphis asked Eloise. “I’d like to just call and check in with Drake’s daycare. Make sure he’s doing all right.”

  “Sure.” Eloise stood straight, escorting her to the door and finally leaving me in peace.

  I put the cilantro aside and went to the walk-in to grab a handful of tomatoes. Then I shoved the sleeves of my white chef’s coat, not yet stained, up my forearms before I resumed chopping.

  Could I run this hotel? Did I even want to? Change was on the horizon. There were decisions to make, and I dreaded them all.

  Beyond the renovations, a lot had changed here in the past year. Mostly, my parents’ attitude. Besides our family’s ranch, The Eloise Inn had been their most time-consuming business venture. Their desire to keep a finger on the hotel’s pulse was dwindling. Fast.

  Now that Dad had retired from running the ranch and handed control to my older brother Griffin, Mom and Dad seemed in a hurry to offload the rest of their business ventures to us kids.

  That, and Dad had gotten spooked. As Uncle Briggs’s dementia progressed, Dad had all but convinced himself that he’d be next. While his mind was fresh, he wanted his estate settled.