Juniper Hill (The Edens #2)(50)

She hadn’t confided in me about her past or Drake’s father and

I had to believe that was for a reason. That she’d tell me when she was ready. We just hadn’t gotten there yet.

Like I’d told Memphis this morning. We’d take a little time. Get used to each other.

I was raiding my fruit bowl, pulling out a couple of peaches, when the crunch of tires and the hum of an engine sounded outside.

“Of course they show on my day off,” I muttered, sure it was either a parent or a sibling. But as I peered through the window that overlooked the sink, an unfamiliar black SUV

rolled to a stop in the driveway.

“Someone got lost, didn’t they?” I asked Drake, walking to swipe up his blanket and wrap him up.

I was just pulling on a pair of boots when a man about the same age as my father stepped out from behind the SUV’s wheel. He adjusted the tie at his neck and tugged at the sleeves of his suit jacket.

But he didn’t come toward my door. He had his gaze on the loft.

Memphis stood in the middle of the staircase, her hand wrapped so tight around the railing that even from this distance I could see her white knuckles.

“What the hell?” I hustled to get my boots on.

By the time I opened the door, Memphis had come down the stairs to stand in front of the man, her shoulders stiff. Her expression was blank and as cold as the November morning.

Her eyes narrowed. Her lips pursed.

The SUV’s passenger door opened as I came down the sidewalk and a woman dressed in an ice-blue pantsuit stepped out. Her heels teetered on the gravel as she walked to stand at the man’s side.

It was only when she looked over her shoulder—not at me, but at Drake—and pulled the sunglasses off her face did I recognize the resemblance. The brown eyes. The blond hair.

The pretty nose and lovely chin.

Her mother.

My free hand balled into a fist.

“You’re unwelcome here.” Memphis’s voice carried strong and clear.

Damn straight they were unwelcome.

“Unwelcome?” The man I assumed was her father scoffed.

“Enough of this act for attention, Memphis. We are leaving.

Today.”

“Safe travels.” Her voice was as flat as her gaze.

I walked past her parents, taking a stance behind Memphis.

It wasn’t easy, but I kept my mouth shut as her father looked me up and down with a sneer. When the mother stared at Drake like she was about to snatch him, I spun him away.

“I’ve been calling,” her mother said, her eyes still locked on the baby.

“And I haven’t answered.” Memphis shifted, putting herself in front of Drake.

That was who’d been calling. For months and months.

Persistent, wasn’t she?

“Get in the car,” her father barked.

“No.” Memphis’s lip curled. “You have no say in my life.

Leave.”

“You call this a life?” He curled his lip and glared at the loft. “You’re living above a garage. You’re cleaning rooms.

You’re living on minimum wage.”

“That’s—wait.” Her spine, already stiff, became a rod of steel. “How do you know where I’m living and where I’m working?”

“Do you really think I’d let you just leave?”

Memphis scoffed. “You had me followed.”

Her mother dropped her chin. Her father raised his.

Months ago, right after she’d moved here, I’d seen that flash of headlights on the road one night. I’d thought it was someone who’d been lost. But maybe it had been whoever they’d sent to follow Memphis.

“How long did you have me followed?” Memphis asked.

Her father didn’t so much as blink at her question. It was clear he didn’t deem her worthy of an explanation. “We’re leaving. Get in the car.”

It was Memphis’s turn to blink.

“You signed a noncompete clause,” her father declared.

“Your point?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“You’re working at a hotel.”

“Is that what you’re worried about, Dad? That I’ll share company secrets? I’m a housekeeper. And Quincy, Montana, isn’t exactly the market for a Ward Hotel development.”

“I could take you to court.”

Was this motherfucker really threatening to sue his own daughter?

“Sue me.” Memphis shrugged. “Noncompetes are not enforceable in Montana. Yes, I checked. Nor have I violated the terms of my nondisclosure agreement by sharing confidential Ward Hotel information. But sue me. If you want to sever the very thin threads of our relationship, sue me. In the highly unlikely event a judge rules against me, then you can have the twenty dollars to my name. I’ll scrub bathrooms and make beds until I earn another twenty. But threatening me, ordering me around, didn’t work in New York. It sure as hell won’t work here.”

That was my girl. There was the fire. It took every ounce of restraint to keep quiet, but she didn’t need me stepping in for her. I would if I had to, but determination was creeping into her eyes. Like she was getting the chance to say the things that had been building in her mind for months.

“You have thirty seconds to load up that child and get into the car.”