Juniper Hill (The Edens)

Abird chirped outside and my gaze snapped to the windows for the hundredth time in an hour. The driveway was empty, just like it had been three minutes ago.

“Gah.” I dragged a hand through my hair and swiped the last T-shirt from the pile of clean clothes on my bed, taking it to the closet for a hanger. Then I carted the empty basket to the laundry room and headed for the kitchen.

The dishes were done. The fridge stocked. The entire house clean.

For the first time in months, I’d taken an entire day off. Not a huge feat. The actual accomplishment had been not going into Knuckles on my day off. The restaurant had a tether on my mind and most vacation days, I’d stop to check in. Mothering, according to Skip.

But today, I hadn’t left my home. I hadn’t even called to see how things were going. Mondays were a quiet day so I doubted there’d be a mad rush, especially at the end of October. Still, my fingers itched to dial the phone simply for the distraction. Simply to take my mind off the clock.

It was six. Shouldn’t Memphis be home by now? I wasn’t actually sure what time she came home—I was always at the restaurant—but her shift ended at five. Where was she?

Five days had passed since she’d told me about her family. Five days and five nights without Memphis. The restaurant had been busy over the weekend with a rush of hunters staying at the hotel. Our paths hadn’t crossed. And each night when I’d come home after dark, the lights had been off in the loft. Drake hadn’t woken me up.

With or without his crying, I’d be going over tonight.

I just . . . damn it, I missed her. I missed the sweet scent of her perfume. I missed her soft whisper. I missed the way she’d duck her chin to hide a blush.

I’d find an excuse to visit, even if it was just to stay hello. To let her know that the story she’d shared about her parents hadn’t scared me away. No wonder she’d escaped to Montana.

What she’d gone through, alone, was unthinkable.

My family was nothing but supportive—borderline overbearing, but only because they cared. Not in a million years would Mom and Dad treat their daughters the way Memphis had been treated. Not in a million years would they not have held their grandchild.

Fuck, but she was strong. I respected the hell out of her for walking away. From the money. From the legacy. From the control. I admired her for putting her son’s life first.

Risky as it was, I had to see her. And hopefully I’d manage to keep from kissing her.

Because damn, did I want to kiss her. Like I’d almost kissed her the other night.

Six eleven. Why didn’t I know her schedule? What if she needed help? Who would she call? Did she even have my number?

The tap of my fingers on the granite counters filled the quiet house. I’d thought I’d miss this. The quiet. The solitude. But I’d had this anxious knot in my gut all day, the place too still. Too empty. Where was she?

Housework hadn’t helped settle the nerves. Neither had cleaning out the garage. All three stalls were now clean, giving both Memphis and me plenty of space to park once the snow arrived. I hadn’t planned on cooking today. I had plenty of leftovers to pick at.

But I needed an outlet, anything to get my mind off the empty driveway, so I stalked to the pantry and took out a bag of semolina flour.

It shouldn’t have taken long to make pasta dough and roll it out. Except every thirty seconds I glanced down the lane, hoping to see a gray Volvo heading my direction. The only thing beyond the glass was a chilly fall day.

The grasses in the meadows had faded from green to gold. The ponderosa pines were dusted with frost. The mountains in the distance were capped white.

Fall was my favorite season, and other than a small influx of hunters to the area, there were more familiar faces than not on Main these days. We’d be slow at the hotel until the holidays. This was the time to catch up on some rest.

But today had been anything but relaxing, and if I was going to feel this way on a day off, well . . . I’d mother Skip until Christmas.

With the pasta cut and ready, I found a pot and set it to boil. Then I pulled a bundle of baby spinach and mushrooms from the fridge. I was digging for cream to make a simple sauce when, outside, gravel crunched beneath tires.

The smart thing to do would be stay right here, my face buried in my refrigerator, but I slammed it shut and strode for the front door.

Memphis was unlocking Drake’s car seat when I stepped outside. She stood tall, hefting his carrier over an arm, and when she glanced over the Volvo’s roof, my heart dropped. Her face was splotchy. Her eyes were rimmed in red like she’d cried the entire drive here. And Drake was screaming.

It reminded me of her first day in Quincy. I hadn’t liked seeing it then. I sure as fuck didn’t like seeing it now.

“What’s wrong?” I crossed the driveway, moving right into her space and taking the handle of the car seat.

“Nothing.” She waved it off and sniffled. “Just a Monday.”

“Memphis,” I warned.

“I’m fine.” She reached into the car and pulled out Drake’s diaper bag before shutting the door and moving to the trunk, lifting it open. Another tear, one that she hadn’t been able to dry, dripped down her cheek.

I didn’t like to see Drake cry. But Memphis? It was like getting the wind knocked out of me.

“Hey.” I went to her side and fit my hand to her elbow. “What happened, honey?”

“I just . . .” Her shoulders sagged. “I had a bad day.”

Had something happened at the hotel? Was it about her family? Or Drake’s father? There were a hundred unanswered questions when it came to Memphis and her past, but Drake was crying and now wasn’t the time to dig.

So I reached past her for the package of diapers in the trunk, then strode for the door.

“Where are you going?” she called to my back as I walked toward my place, not hers.

“Taking these inside.”

“You’re going the wrong way.”

“Come on.” I kept walking straight for my house, where the scent of floor cleaner and laundry soap clung to the air.

As I made my way to the kitchen with the baby, the door closed behind me. I set the diapers on the island along with Drake’s seat, unbuckling him as Memphis’s footsteps sounded over my shoulder.

“This bad day. Did it rank in your top five?”

She came up beside me, watching as I lifted Drake from his seat. “No.”

“Good.”

Before I could settle Drake on my shoulder, she stole her son from my hands, cradling him in her arms. Then she breathed, a breath so deep and long it was like she’d been underwater for five minutes and was finally breaking through the surface.

She closed her eyes and peppered Drake’s forehead with kisses. His fussing stopped almost immediately.

How could she not see how much she settled him? Yeah, maybe they struggled at one in the morning. But that kid needed her like she needed him. Those two were destined to be together.

Watching them was like intruding on a ritual, a moment that they had each day, coming home and finding peace together.

I gave them a minute, heading to the fridge to uncork a bottle of pinot grigio and pour two glasses.

“You’re busy,” she said. “We won’t interrupt your night.”

I carried over her glass of wine. “Stay for dinner.”

“What are you making?” She hovered at the corner of the island, surveying the pasta and vegetables on the cutting board.

“Dinner.” I smirked. “You’ll find out if you stay.”

She rolled her eyes, a smile toying at the corner of her pretty mouth. But she took the wine and her shoulders began their slow creep away from her ears. “Thank you.”

“Make yourself at home.”

With Drake on her hip, she glanced around the space. “You weren’t at the restaurant today.”

“You noticed?”

She shrugged. “I usually park beside your truck.”

That, or she looked for me. Maybe as often as I looked for her.

I went to the cutting board and began chopping the spinach while she rifled through the diaper bag and took out a bottle with powdered formula in the bottom.

She eased past me for the sink, filling the bottle with water before shaking it up. Then she walked to the living room, taking a seat on the couch to feed Drake.

I dropped the pasta into the boiling water, then picked up her wineglass, taking it to her in the living room.

“You have a beautiful home.” There was a sadness in her expression as she spoke.

“What’s that look for?” I perched on the edge of the coffee table, my knees just inches from hers.

It was too close.

It wasn’t close enough.

Whatever lines I’d intended to keep between us were melting away.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” She looked down at Drake. “He’s almost four months old. How did that happen? How did he grow so fast?”

“I’ve been told that’s what kids do.”

She gave me a sad smile. “Do you think he loves me?”

“Look at him and you’ll get your answer.”

Because that little boy was staring at his mother like she’d hung the moon and stars. He chugged his bottle, resting in her arms without a care in the world.

She closed her eyes and nodded. Then she straightened, shaking off the sadness. “This is not your typical Montana-style home. Not that I’ve been to many. But it’s different than anything I’ve seen driving through town. It’s very modern.”

“If you’re looking for traditional country homes, you’ll have to visit my parents’ place. Or Griff and Winn’s.”

“This suits you. The clean lines. The windows. The moody atmosphere.”

“Are you saying I’m moody?”

She smiled wider, the biggest victory in my day. “Look in the mirror and you’ll get your answer.”

“Well played, Ms. Ward.” I chuckled and stood, returning to the kitchen.

Memphis finished feeding Drake, then carried him to the island, watching as I worked. “Why did you choose this style of design?”

“When I was living in San Francisco, I was in this cramped, two-bedroom apartment with three total windows. They all faced the brick building across the alley. Drove me nuts not being able to look outside and see farther than twenty feet.”

No trees. No grass. Not even the sky. For a Montana guy who’d grown up on a sprawling ranch, that apartment might as well have been a prison cell.

“When I moved home, I knew I wanted to live in the country, but I was selective about the property. My parents and Griffin suggested a part of the ranch, but I wanted to be closer to town. When the winter roads are shit, they don’t have to leave but I have to drive into town each day. I took my time, waiting for the right property to come on the market. While I waited, I lived in the caretaker’s apartment at the hotel.”

“Oh, I didn’t know there was a caretaker’s apartment.”

“Apartment is a generous term,” I said. “It was smaller than your loft. But it’s gone now. It was beside the kitchen, and when we remodeled, I took the wall out to use that space for the walk-in and my office.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “I’m guessing there were no windows in that apartment.”

“Not one. I was so tired of artificial light that when I bought this land and hired my architect, I told him that I wanted enough windows that I could see outside from every inch of the house. Even the bathrooms.”

Her eyes scanned the walls. “Now I have to see these bathrooms.”

I chuckled and pointed down the hallway. “There’s two down that way. And then one in my suite. Go ahead. I’ll finish this up while you check it out.”

She smiled and went off exploring, taking Drake with her.

I watched her disappear, my gaze raking down her slender shoulders to the soft sway of her hips. Her jeans clung to the curve of her ass and those lean, long legs. The tendrils of her hair swished against her waist.

Damn that hair. So often at work, she had it up in a ponytail. When I went to the loft, it was usually in a messy bun. It was longer than I’d realized. And all I wanted was to wrap those blond waves around my fist while I took her mouth. I wanted that hair spread on my pillow and threaded between my fingers.

My cock swelled. “Focus,” I muttered.

I finished with the pasta, making the sauce and adding the vegetables. Then I served us each a bowl, topping it with fresh parmesan and Italian parsley. I was refilling her wine glass as she passed the kitchen, heading toward my bedroom.

With napkins and forks out, I set up Drake’s car seat on the table so he could sit and watch us eat.

“Do you ever worry that someone will walk into your backyard and catch you in the shower?” Memphis asked as she returned to the room.

The living room, kitchen and dining room were all connected in an open concept. It meant that from the kitchen, I could still participate in conversations when I had people over.

“Nah. No one comes out here. I did have a deer check me out this summer.”

She giggled, another win, and put Drake in his seat. Then she took the chair closest to him and placed the napkin on her lap. “Thank you for this. For making me dinner and making me smile.”

“That’s two thank-yous since you’ve walked through the door.” She opened her mouth but I held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t apologize.”

“Okay.” A laugh sparkled in those chocolate-brown eyes, the caramel flecks dancing. That laugh shot straight to my groin.

“Dig in.” I swallowed hard and picked up my fork, but it froze midair as she twirled a bite of pasta and lifted it to her mouth. When her head lolled to one side as she chewed and she closed her eyes, a look of sheer pleasure crossed her face.

A look I wanted to see while I was buried inside her tight heat.

She didn’t even realize her beauty, did she? Memphis was a sweet temptation and a sinful craving.

Drake kicked in his chair, letting out a happy squeal. I dropped my gaze to my bowl, focusing on the meal instead of his mother.

“This is delicious,” she said.

“It’s fairly simple.”

“Maybe for you.”

“Do you cook much?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No. My parents had a chef growing up. And I ate out a lot in the city.”

“Want me to teach you how to cook?”

“Maybe.” Another smile. Another victory.

Drake made another string of noises, keeping us both entertained as we ate.

“I guess he didn’t have much of a nap at daycare today.” Memphis pinched his shoe-covered foot. “Maybe he’ll actually sleep all night.”

“Maybe.” I hated that I hoped he didn’t.

“I wanted to tell you that I think I found a new rental.”

The fork dropped from my hand, clattering into my empty bowl. “What? Where?”

When Eloise had asked me to give Memphis the loft, she’d said Memphis would likely be out by winter. Well, winter was just around the corner, and the idea of her moving made my stomach twist.

It was too soon, right? She’d just moved here. They were just getting settled into a routine. What was the goddamn rush?

“It’s not far from the hotel, actually.” She rattled off the address and my heart climbed down from my throat.

“You can’t live there.”

Her forehead furrowed. “Why not?”

“Because I know which place you’re talking about. A light-blue duplex, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I almost moved in there when I came back to Quincy. It has a pretty high turnover because it’s right by Willie’s.”

“What’s Willie’s?”

“A bar and the local hangout. It’ll be loud.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “I was just there and it was quiet.”

“It’s a Monday. Drive by on Friday or Saturday night.”

“Dang.” She sighed. “Well, I promise I’m looking.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can stay here as long as you need.”

In the weeks she’d been here, I’d grown attached to her car in the driveway. I’d gotten used to looking for her light in the mornings. And I liked knowing she was asleep, close by, when I came home each night.

“This was a temporary arrangement,” she said.

“Do you want to leave?” I held my breath, waiting for the answer.

“No.”

Thank fuck. “Stay. You don’t need to move out.”

“Are you sure?”

I shrugged. “It will be a lot easier to teach you how to cook if you’re my neighbor.”

She smiled again and stood, collecting our empty dishes. “I’ll clean up.”

“You’ve been cleaning all day.”

“I don’t mind.” She moved around the kitchen easily.

I stared unabashedly.

I didn’t like having people in my kitchen. Even Mom and Lyla knew not to intrude when they came over. For Memphis, I’d make an exception.

“I’d better get Drake home and in the bath,” she said as she hung a dish towel on the oven’s handle.

“I’ll carry him up.”

She didn’t argue as I hoisted Drake with one arm, using my free hand to take the car seat while Memphis hauled her purse and the diapers to the loft. When her things were put away and Drake was lying on a blanket, she walked me to the door. “Thanks again for dinner.”

“Welcome.” The lock of hair, the same one I’d tucked behind her ear the other night, fell across her forehead.

My fingertips smoothed it away, earning a hitch in her breath. Her gaze dropped to my mouth.

I inched closer, until the curve of her pert breasts brushed against my T-shirt.

She rose up on her toes, her hand lifting to my pec. Her palm pressed into my hard nipple.

I was leaning down, ready to take that mouth and make it mine, when Drake cooed.

My entire body tensed before I took a step away. Damn. The pretty pink blush on Memphis’s cheeks matched the color of her lips. “I gotta go.”

“Yeah.” She shied away. “I’d, um . . . better get him ready for bed.”

“Night.” I forced myself out the door and to my house for a cold shower. Then I spent the rest of the night reading—or staring at the same page for hours because my concentration was shit, thanks to that almost kiss.

God, I wanted her. It had been a long time since I’d craved a woman. Her body. Her mind. Her time. I wanted it all.

Except . . . Drake.

The kid changed everything.

Darkness crept through the house as I crawled into bed, wishing for the first time that I wasn’t beneath this roof alone.

My parents and siblings used to drop by more often. But that was before Hudson was born, and now we all seemed to congregate at Griff and Winn’s place so that he was close to his crib.

Memphis and Drake had brought life to my home. Laughter and noise that I hadn’t even realized I’d wanted.

I hated giving cooking lessons. It was my own personal brand of torture. But for the chance to have Memphis here, just a little while longer, I’d endure.

Memphis. Her name was on my mind as I drifted off to sleep.

Memphis. I never had found out why she’d been crying when she’d come home.

And the next morning, when she came down the loft’s stairs with a bright smile, I decided not to ask.