Juniper Hill (The Edens #2)(15)

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Headache, Knox?” Skip asked.

“Yeah.” Her name was Memphis Ward.

She had smooth skin, flawless beneath the moonlight. She had dark circles under her eyes that bothered the hell out of me. She had a men’s black T-shirt that she wore in place of pajamas, and as often as I’d replayed last night, I couldn’t remember if she’d had a pair of shorts on underneath or just panties.

Maybe if we could just coexist, her going one direction while I went the other, we’d survive this short-term lease. With some space, I could banish all thoughts of her toned legs and pink lips.

“I forgot something,” I told Skip, then made my way to the lobby.

Eloise was at the reception counter, perched on a tall chair as she clicked away at the computer screen. The guests she’d been talking to earlier were now sitting on the couch in front of the unlit fireplace. When my sister saw me coming, she smiled. “Hey. What’s up?”

“I’m looking for Memphis. I saw her head upstairs. Do you know what floor she’s on?”

“The second, I think. Why?”

“Nothing.” I waved it off. “Just wanted to talk to her about something.”

“How’s it going with her at your place?”

“Fine,” I lied, then before she could ask more questions, I strode toward the staircase, preferring it over the elevators.

When I reached the second floor, I glanced down both sides of the hallway, spotting the cleaning cart to my left. My tennis shoes sank into the plush hallway carpet as I walked toward the room. The smell of lemon furniture polish and glass cleaner wafted from the open doorway.

I paused beside the cart. Her coffee mug was propped between a stack of clean washcloths and paper towels. The black liquid still steamed. When I looked into the room, my mouth went dry. My cock twitched.

Memphis was bent over the bed, stretching a fitted sheet to the mattress. Her tight jeans clung to the slight curves of her hips. They molded to the perfect shape of her ass. Her blond hair swung over her shoulder as she worked.

Fuck me. Why her? Why had Eloise put a woman like Memphis on my property? Why couldn’t she have found me a fifty-seven-year-old retiree named Barb who taught swimming lessons at the community center?

It had been a while since I’d been attracted to a woman.

Why Memphis? She was as complicated as duck paté en cro?te. Yet I couldn’t look away.

Her phone chimed again and she stood, digging it from her pocket. She huffed at the screen and, like she’d done in the break room, hit decline.

“Forty.”

Forty calls? Memphis’s nostrils flared as she tucked the phone away and stared blankly at the unmade bed.

What the hell was her story? Curiosity had me hooked.

Why was she here? Was it the kid’s dad who’d been calling nonstop?

None of my damn business. Too much drama. And I’d sworn off drama after Gianna.

I cleared my throat, stepping past the cleaning cart like I hadn’t been watching or listening. “Hey.”

“Oh, um . . . hey.” Memphis’s eyes widened as she brushed a stray lock of hair off her forehead. Then she crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze sparking with that same fire.

She was short, her gaze hitting me midchest. Or maybe I was just tall. I’d never gone for short women. But the urge to pick her up, haul her to eye level and kiss that delicious mouth hit so hard I had to force myself not to move.

“Did you need something?” she asked.

“Came to apologize. About what I said outside Lyla’s. I’m sorry.”

Her shoulders fell. “I’m sorry we woke you up last night. I should have left the window closed but it was stuffy.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

In truth, it hadn’t been the kid’s crying that had woken me up. It had been a pair of headlights. By the time I’d shoved out of bed and blinked the sleep of fog away, I’d only caught the glow of taillights down the road.

I’d chosen Juniper Hill because it got no traffic. But every now and then, someone would take a wrong turn. Or high school kids would think they’d stumbled on a deserted road



where they could park and go at it in the backseat only to come up on my house.

After the car, that’s when I’d heard the kid. Once I’d heard his cry, I couldn’t not hear it. It had carried through the night, bringing with it memories I’d tried for years to forget.

“Well . . . I’m still sorry,” Memphis said.

“Do you always apologize this much?” I teased. I thought maybe it would earn me a smile. Instead, she looked like she was about to cry.

“I guess I’m making up for the apologies I should have made but didn’t.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Never mind.” She waved it off with a flick of her delicate wrist. “Thank you for your apology.”

I nodded, turning to leave, but stopped myself. “Don’t worry about the window. Leave it open at night if that helps.”

“Okay.”

Without another word, while I could still stop myself from asking more questions, I ducked out of the room and returned to my kitchen.

IT WAS after midnight by the time I made it home. The sky was dark. So was the loft. I slipped inside, stripped out of my clothes and rushed through a shower.