Juniper Hill (The Edens)

The numbers on the microwave’s clock taunted me as I paced the length of the loft. With every turn, the green glow caught my eye and earned a sigh of despair.

Three nineteen.

Drake had been crying since one.

I’d been crying since two.

“Baby.” A tear dripped down my cheek. “I don’t know what to do for you.”

He wailed, his face red and his nose scrunched. He looked as miserable as I felt.

I’d fed him a bottle. I’d changed his diaper. I’d swaddled him. I’d unswaddled him. I’d rocked him in my arms. I’d propped him against a shoulder.

Nothing had worked. Nothing I was doing would make him stop crying.

Nothing I was doing was . . . right.

Did all new mothers feel this helpless?

“Shh. Shh. Shh.” I walked toward an open window, needing some fresh air. “It’s okay. It will be okay.”

Before I’d left New York, his pediatrician had told me that colic typically peaked at six weeks old, then began to decline. But Drake’s seemed to be getting worse.

His legs stiffened. His eyes were squeezed shut. He squirmed, like the last person on earth he wanted to be stuck with was me.

“It’s okay,” I whispered as my chin quivered. This would pass. Eventually, this would pass. He’d never know how he’d tormented me as an infant. He’d never know that I was hovering above rock bottom. He’d never know that being a mother was so damn hard.

He’d simply know that I loved him.

“I love you, baby.” I kissed his forehead and closed my eyes.

God, I was tired. I’d stopped nursing because he’d been so fussy. Maybe that had been a mistake. The expensive, sensitive-tummy formula that was supposed to help only drained my bank account.

My feet hurt. My arms hurt. My back hurt.

My heart hurt.

Maybe I was in over my head. Maybe this move had been a horrible idea. But the alternative . . .

There hadn’t been an alternative. And since I’d been here less than a week, I wasn’t ready to call this a mistake. Not yet.

Don’t give up.

“One more day, right? We’ll make it one more day, then rest this weekend.”

Tomorrow—or today—I’d be splurging on a triple-shot latte before going to the hotel. Caffeine would get me through my Friday. And this weekend, we’d recharge.

I only had to survive one more day.

My first four days at The Eloise Inn had flown by. Monday, I’d spent doing paperwork and orientation. Tuesday, I’d jumped into cleaning. After three days of scrubbing, dusting, vacuuming and making beds, every muscle in my body ached. Muscles I hadn’t even known existed were screaming.

But it had been a good week. Granted, the bar for good days wasn’t all that high, but we’d made it to Thursday—or Friday—and that was a win.

Drake had been an angel at daycare. Every evening when I’d picked him up, I’d braced for news of an expulsion. But Drake seemed to save these fits for the night. For the dark hours when the only person around to hear him cry was me.

Drying the last of my tears, I stepped away from the window and resumed pacing. His crying didn’t seem as loud when I was moving.

“Shh.” I bounced him softly, cradling him in one arm as my other hand rubbed his belly. Maybe it was gas. I’d tried the drops before I’d put him in his crib at eight. Should I give him more?

Motherhood, I’d learned in the past two months, was nothing more than a ritual of second-guessing yourself.

I yawned, dragging in a long breath. The energy to cry was waning. I’d let my son carry that torch for the rest of the night.

“Want to try your binky again?” I asked, walking to the kitchen counter where I’d left it earlier. I’d tried it around two thirty. He’d spit it out.

“Here, baby.” I ran the plastic across his mouth, hoping he’d take it. He sucked on it for a second, and for that second, the loft was so quiet I could actually hear my own thoughts. Then the binky went sailing to the floor and if babies could talk, he would have told me to shove that plastic nipple imposter up my ass.

His cries had this staccato rhythm with a hitch each time he needed to breathe.

“Oh, baby.” My eyes flooded. Apparently, my tears hadn’t vanished after all. “What am I doing wrong?”

A pounding shook the door, cutting through Drake’s noise.

I yelped. Shit. The light from outside was brighter. I’d been so focused on the baby I hadn’t noticed when Knox’s bedroom light had turned on. I swiped at my face, doing my best to dry it with just one hand, then I rushed to the door, seeing Knox through the small, square window in its face.

Oh, he did not look happy.

I flipped the deadbolt and whipped the door open. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I opened the windows for some air because it was stuffy and didn’t even think you might hear him.”

Knox’s dark hair was disheveled. The sleeves of his gray T-shirt had been cut off, revealing his sculpted arms. In the moonlight, the black ink of tattoos blended almost invisibly with his tanned skin. The sweatpants he wore hung low on his narrow waist, draping to his bare feet.

He’d crossed the gravel driveway without shoes.

I gulped. Either he had really tough feet or he was really pissed. Given the tension in his jaw, probably the latter.

“Sorry.” I glanced down at Drake, willing him to stop. Please stop. Five minutes. Then you can scream until dawn. Just stop for five minutes.

“Is he sick?” Knox fisted his hands on his hips.

“He has colic.”

Knox’s broad chest rose as he drew in a long breath. He ran a hand over his stubbled jaw before crossing his arms over his chest. God, he had a lot of muscles. The scowl on his face only added to his appeal.

Old Memphis always wanted to come out and play dirty when Knox was around. She wanted to tug at the long strands of hair that curled at his nape.

Please stop. That one was for me, not Drake. There’d be time to fantasize about Knox later, like when Drake was eighteen and headed off to college. I’d lock this mental image away for a time when my kid wasn’t screaming and I hadn’t been crying. When I’d slept for more than two hours in a row.

“Does he always cry?” Knox asked.

“Yes.” The truth was as depressing as it would have been to lie. “I’ll shut my windows.”

Knox dropped his gaze to my son and the expression of pain that crossed his face made me want to climb in my car and drive far, far away.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

To Knox. To Drake.

Another depressing truth. That apology was all I had to give.

Knox didn’t say another word as he descended the stairs, then crossed the space between the garage and the house, wincing at a few steps on the gravel, before disappearing into his house.

Apartment hunting just got bumped up the to-do list.

“Damn.” I stepped onto the landing, letting the cool air soothe the flush of my face. “Baby, we need to get this under control. We can’t get kicked out. Not yet.”

Drake let out another cry and then, like he could sense my desperation, sucked in a hitched breath and closed his mouth.

I froze, letting the night air slip past us into the apartment. I held my breath and counted seconds, wondering how long it would last.

Drake squirmed and let out a whimper, but then his eyes drifted shut.

Sleep. Please, sleep.

His chest shook with the aftershocks of such a massive fit. The hitches racked his tiny body, but he snuggled deeper into my arms and gave up the fight.

“Thank you.” I tipped my head to the stars. Each was a jewel scattered on black silk coated in diamond dust. There were so many out here, more than I’d ever seen in my life. “Wow.”

The light in Knox’s bedroom turned off.

Was this karma’s doing, putting me next door to a man so fine? Was this her test to see if I truly had changed?

A year ago, I would have batted my eyelashes and donned my sexiest dress with six-inch heels. I would have flirted and teased until he paid me the attention I craved. Then, when I’d tired of the game, I would have worn my ruby-red lipstick and left streaks over his entire body.

That lipstick tube was somewhere in New York, in a box with my sexiest dresses and six-inch heels. Maybe my parents had tossed that box in the trash. Maybe one of their assistants had stowed it in a storage room where it would collect dust for years.

None of it mattered.

I had no need for lipstick, not here.

And I suspected that Knox wasn’t your typical man. He probably would have laughed at an attempt to turn him into my personal toy. I liked that about him.

A yawn forced my eyes away from the heavens and I retreated inside. Rather than risk laying Drake in his crib and waking him up, I took him to my bed, blocking him in with some pillows. Then I curled up at his side with my hand on his belly.

There’d only be one man in my bed.

My little man.

When my alarm rang at six, I jolted awake, groggier than I had been in years. Drake was still asleep, so I left him on the bed and hurried through a shower. We had no coffee pot in the loft, probably because any of Knox’s guests would simply walk to his gigantic kitchen for a morning cup.

If I had enough cash after rent and daycare and gas and food and formula and diapers and a few new outfits for Drake because he was growing out of his others, I’d buy a maker with my first paycheck. Or I’d just drink the free coffee at the hotel because I already knew there wouldn’t be money.

That word had changed in two short months. Once, money had been a concept. An afterthought. Now, it was a luxury lost.

I’d traded it for my son.

Drake woke as I swapped out his pajamas for clothes and I yawned so many times as I got him ready for daycare that my jaw hurt. Not even the bright morning sun could chase away the brain fog as I stepped outside and rushed to my car.

Knox’s truck was gone already. At first, I’d assumed he parked in the garage, but I’d since learned he parked outside, closer to the house.

“Ooo-ooh,” Drake cooed as his car seat clicked into the base.

“Friday, baby. Let’s make it through our Friday, okay?”

Daycare drop-off was painful, like it had been painful every morning this week. I hated leaving Drake with another person. I hated missing his happy hours. But it wasn’t like I could clean hotel rooms with a baby strapped to my chest.

There was no choice. The money I’d saved from my job in New York was nearly gone. Most, I’d used to buy the Volvo. The rest was stashed in case of an emergency.

So Drake would go to daycare.

While I carved out a life for us with my own two hands, sweat and tears.

Main Street was my favorite part of this little town. It was the heart and hub of Quincy. Retail shops, restaurants and offices crowded the blocks. The Eloise stood proud as the tallest building in sight.

I glanced longingly at Eden Coffee as I drove by. Eloise had told me that her older sister Lyla owned it. Lattes had once been a staple of my diet. And though I had a twenty in my purse and had planned to splurge, I couldn’t bring myself to stop.

Not when the coffee at the hotel was free.

Twenty dollars was over an hour’s worth of work.

I parked in the alley behind The Eloise, grabbing my purse and the small plastic container that held my peanut butter sandwich. No jelly. It, like the latte, was an indulgence that must wait. The best meal I’d eaten in weeks had been Knox’s tacos. Why was it so sexy that a man could cook? No man I’d ever dated had cooked me a meal.

Knox’s truck was in the space closest to the employee entrance. Had he been able to sleep last night? Or had he escaped to the restaurant after we’d woken him up?

“I’m so getting evicted.” But thanks to my dad, it wouldn’t be the first time.

A chime jingled in my pocket. One glance at the screen and I silenced the noise. Any time I seemed to think about New York, my phone would ring.

Thirty-seven. That made thirty-seven calls in a week. Asshole.

I hurried inside, finding Eloise in the staff room, filling a coffee mug.

“Good morning,” I said as I stowed my things in a locker. Hopefully I’d covered up the dark circles beneath my eyes with the last of my concealer.

“Morning.” She smiled. Eloise always had a smile.

I’d learned yesterday that we were both twenty-five. Her twenty-five seemed much lighter than my own. I envied that. I envied her smile. Had she been anyone but Eloise, I probably would have hated her for it. But Eloise was impossible not to love.

Shoving my lunch in the fridge, I went to the time clock and punched my card. Old fashioned, like the hotel. For my first hourly job, I liked the thunk of the machine as it stamped. Then I rushed to the cupboard for a mug, filling it to the brim from the pot. The first sip was too hot but that didn’t stop me from blowing across the top, then taking another drink, scalding tongue and all.

“This might save my life.”

Eloise laughed. “Long night?”

“Drake was up for a couple of hours.” I cringed. “We woke up Knox.”

“Ah. That’s why he came in so early. The night clerk said he showed around four. Usually he’s not in until five.”

“Oh no.” I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll get on finding a new place.”

“You’re fine.” Eloise waved it off. “Besides, there isn’t another place, and I need you.”

It was nice to hear someone say they needed me. I hadn’t heard that in, well . . . in a long time. “Thank you, Eloise.”

“What for?”

“For taking a chance on me. And for giving me such a good schedule.”

Eloise had given me the weekday shift. I was here to clean as guests checked out of their rooms, from eight until five, Monday through Friday. The weekend shift paid more, but without daycare, it wasn’t an option.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “I hope you’re enjoying it.”

“I am.” Cleaning rooms was honest work. I hadn’t realized how much my heart had needed something true and real. And part of me loved it simply because I imagined my family cringing at the thought of me in yellow rubber gloves.

Hotels had paid for my entire life—first in New York, now in Montana. It was fitting. The years I’d spent in five-star hotels—and some online tutorials—had been my education for cleaning.

“I love this hotel.” Another truth. The Eloise Inn was charming and quaint and inviting. Exactly the atmosphere that many hotels strived to create and few achieved.

“So do I,” she said.

“Okay, well, I’d better get to it.” I raised my mug in salute.

“I’ll be here all day if you need anything.” She walked out of the break room with me, heading toward the lobby while I rounded the corner for the laundry room, where we kept the cleaning carts and the list of rooms ready to be tackled.

The other dayshift housekeeper must not have arrived yet because both cleaning carts were pushed against the wall. I chose the one I’d been using all week, then grabbed a master key card from the hook on the wall. With my coffee in one hand, I steered the cart with the other toward the staff elevator.

The Eloise Inn was four stories with the largest on the top floor. I rode to the top where a couple had vacated the biggest corner room. I worked tirelessly for two hours to get that room and another two ready for the next guests, yawning the entire time.

By the time my first fifteen-minute break rolled around at ten, I was dead on my feet. The black coffee wasn’t cutting it.

A couple passed me as they walked down the hallway, each carrying to-go cups from Eden Coffee, and my stomach growled.

One latte. I’d go without jelly and fruit for the week in exchange for a single latte.

I rushed to get my wallet from my locker, then I hurried out the lobby’s front doors. Three doors down and across the street, the cute green building beckoned.

The scent of coffee beans, sugar and pastries greeted me before I even reached the entrance to Eden Coffee. My stomach growled louder. I hadn’t had breakfast this morning, so I dug into my wallet, searching for enough change to afford a muffin or a scone.

Hell, I’d clean the coffee shop’s bathrooms for a cinnamon roll or slice of banana bread.

Seven quarters, three dimes, and six nickels later, I was digging for another quarter when I rounded the corner to step inside the doorway. My gaze lifted just before I crashed into a very solid, very broad chest.

My coins went flying.

So did the man’s coffee.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” My gaze traveled up, up, up to a pair of familiar, stunning blue eyes. Angry blue eyes.

Knox’s bearded jaw was clenched again, that frown fixed on his supple lips. In one hand he held his own coffee. In the other, his phone. Neither of us had been paying attention.

Neither of us was running on much sleep.

His gray T-shirt had a brown blob over his sternum. He shifted his coffee cup to the other hand, shaking the droplets off his knuckles. “You’re everywhere, aren’t you?”

“I promise, I’m not trying to bother you.”

“Try harder.”

I flinched.

He moved past me and disappeared without another word.

Yep, I was getting evicted.

Which meant I couldn’t afford that latte after all. Damn.