Juniper Hill (The Edens #2)(11)

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.