Juniper Hill (The Edens #2)(32)

The Wards certainly did. But every Eden I’d met seemed so humble. So real. Like Knox.

It was a thrill, meeting his family. Knowing the people who loved him most. Maybe that was because Oliver had hidden his life from me. Because I’d been his dirty little secret.

I wasn’t sure what was happening with Knox. He’d almost kissed me the other night. I would have let him. My better judgment screamed at me to keep our relationship platonic.

Stay on this side of the line, where he was just a friend.

“Hey.” The deep rumble of his voice sent a rush of shivers down my spine.

Hell. This was the problem with that line. Every time he was around, I wanted to cross it.

I turned to watch Knox cross the lobby. He’d shed his chef’s coat and was in a long-sleeved thermal, the sleeves pushed up his sinewed forearms.

My heart did its expected skip.

He glanced my way as he walked but otherwise, his focus was on his brother. “You guys here for dinner?”

Griffin held out a hand to shake with Knox. “No, we’re heading to Mom and Dad’s so they can see Hudson’s costume.

But we thought we’d raid the candy dish here first.”

“Raid away.” Eloise handed Winn four candy bars. “Two for Hudson. And two for the baby.”

“Thanks.” Winn splayed her hand over her flat belly. “This one loves the sugar.”

“Maybe that means you’re having a girl.” Eloise smiled.

Winn’s belly was flat, not yet showing. Just the idea of adding another baby to the mix would have sent my head spinning. But she had help. She had a husband.

I had a Knox. Sort of. For now. Whatever that meant.

“We’re going to head out,” Griffin said. “Get to the ranch before the roads get worse. See ya later.”

The phone rang from the other side of the lobby as Griffin escorted his family out the glass doors.

“Will you man the candy dish for me?” Eloise asked and before I could figure out if she was asking me or Knox, she ran away, broom in hand, to the reception counter.

“All decked out, huh, boss?” Knox raised a hand to touch Drake’s nose, but pulled it back at the last minute. The flash of anguish was there and gone before I could blink.

“I made it. It’s not perfect but . . .”

He met my gaze and it was like those blue eyes could see my every insecurity, my every doubt. “What are your plans?

Trick-or-treating?”

“No, it’s too cold. Eloise told me how much candy she bought and was worried no one would come.”

“Are you heading home? Or can you stick around for a while?”

Home was the right choice, but all that waited for me in the loft was laundry and his hated blue-box macaroni and cheese. “Um . . . stick?”

“Good. Come on.”

“What about the candy dish?”

Knox grabbed a handful of bars, grinned and nodded for me to follow.

I fought a smile and walked with him through the lobby, waving at Eloise as she waved back, hanging up the phone to return to her post by the door.

“It’s so quiet in here,” I said as we walked through Knuckles. All but one table was empty.

“First snow. Halloween.” Knox pointed to a booth. “Take a seat. Be right back.”

“Okay.” I picked the table in the farthest corner in case Drake got fussy. Then I set him on my lap, bouncing him lightly and handing him a spoon to grasp in his chubby fist.

It was strange to sit at a table like I was an actual guest.

With the exception of fast food drive-thrus on the trip to Montana, I hadn’t been out to eat since New York.

Knox’s menu had the perfect blend of lighter fare and heavy entrées. None of it was in my budget. Not even the McDonald’s dollar menu was in my budget. But that didn’t matter because Knox had been regularly dropping off meals.

He’d worked every night the past week so there’d been no cooking lessons or visits to his home. But each night, after dark, when Drake was sleeping and I was curled in bed, rereading one of the e-books I’d bought in my former life, Knox had stopped over on his way home.

The visits had been wordless. I’d see the flash of his headlights. I’d feel the vibration of the garage door open and close. I’d hear the thud of his footsteps on the steps.

Up, then down the staircase without a knock in between before he disappeared into his house.

The first night, I’d rushed to the door, wrapped in a blanket. He’d already been halfway across the driveway. One glance over his shoulder, then he’d nodded at the to-go container at my feet.

The first night, he’d brought chicken chili. The second, a stew with fresh bread. The list went on. Those meals gave me something to look forward to. Something warm and comforting to greet me at home.

The swinging door to the kitchen opened and he strode out with two plates, each loaded with what looked like pulled pork sandwiches. He set them down, one on my side, one on his, then slid into the booth.

“You looked hungry.” He popped a french fry in his mouth.

“You don’t have to feed me.”

He shrugged. “I tweaked my barbeque sauce recipe. Give me your honest opinion and we’ll call it square.”

My stomach growled, and I shifted Drake to pick up the sandwich. The first bite was . . . incredible. I closed my eyes, savoring the smoky sweetness, and let out a moan. “Wow.”