Juniper Hill (The Edens #2)(12)

Not when the coffee at the hotel was free.

Twenty dollars was over an hour’s worth of work.

I parked in the alley behind The Eloise, grabbing my purse and the small plastic container that held my peanut butter sandwich. No jelly. It, like the latte, was an indulgence that must wait. The best meal I’d eaten in weeks had been Knox’s tacos. Why was it so sexy that a man could cook? No man I’d ever dated had cooked me a meal.

Knox’s truck was in the space closest to the employee entrance. Had he been able to sleep last night? Or had he escaped to the restaurant after we’d woken him up?

“I’m so getting evicted.” But thanks to my dad, it wouldn’t be the first time.

A chime jingled in my pocket. One glance at the screen and I silenced the noise. Any time I seemed to think about New York, my phone would ring.

Thirty-seven. That made thirty-seven calls in a week. Asshole.

I hurried inside, finding Eloise in the staff room, filling a coffee mug.

“Good morning,” I said as I stowed my things in a locker. Hopefully I’d covered up the dark circles beneath my eyes with the last of my concealer.

“Morning.” She smiled. Eloise always had a smile.

I’d learned yesterday that we were both twenty-five. Her twenty-five seemed much lighter than my own. I envied that. I envied her smile. Had she been anyone but Eloise, I probably would have hated her for it. But Eloise was impossible not to love.

Shoving my lunch in the fridge, I went to the time clock and punched my card. Old fashioned, like the hotel. For my first hourly job, I liked the thunk of the machine as it stamped. Then I rushed to the cupboard for a mug, filling it to the brim from the pot. The first sip was too hot but that didn’t stop me from blowing across the top, then taking another drink, scalding tongue and all.

“This might save my life.”

Eloise laughed. “Long night?”

“Drake was up for a couple of hours.” I cringed. “We woke up Knox.”

“Ah. That’s why he came in so early. The night clerk said he showed around four. Usually he’s not in until five.”

“Oh no.” I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll get on finding a new place.”

“You’re fine.” Eloise waved it off. “Besides, there isn’t another place, and I need you.”

It was nice to hear someone say they needed me. I hadn’t heard that in, well . . . in a long time. “Thank you, Eloise.”

“What for?”

“For taking a chance on me. And for giving me such a good schedule.”

Eloise had given me the weekday shift. I was here to clean as guests checked out of their rooms, from eight until five, Monday through Friday. The weekend shift paid more, but without daycare, it wasn’t an option.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “I hope you’re enjoying it.”

“I am.” Cleaning rooms was honest work. I hadn’t realized how much my heart had needed something true and real. And part of me loved it simply because I imagined my family cringing at the thought of me in yellow rubber gloves.

Hotels had paid for my entire life—first in New York, now in Montana. It was fitting. The years I’d spent in five-star hotels—and some online tutorials—had been my education for cleaning.

“I love this hotel.” Another truth. The Eloise Inn was charming and quaint and inviting. Exactly the atmosphere that many hotels strived to create and few achieved.

“So do I,” she said.

“Okay, well, I’d better get to it.” I raised my mug in salute.

“I’ll be here all day if you need anything.” She walked out of the break room with me, heading toward the lobby while I rounded the corner for the laundry room, where we kept the cleaning carts and the list of rooms ready to be tackled.

The other dayshift housekeeper must not have arrived yet because both cleaning carts were pushed against the wall. I chose the one I’d been using all week, then grabbed a master key card from the hook on the wall. With my coffee in one hand, I steered the cart with the other toward the staff elevator.

The Eloise Inn was four stories with the largest on the top floor. I rode to the top where a couple had vacated the biggest corner room. I worked tirelessly for two hours to get that room and another two ready for the next guests, yawning the entire time.

By the time my first fifteen-minute break rolled around at ten, I was dead on my feet. The black coffee wasn’t cutting it.

A couple passed me as they walked down the hallway, each carrying to-go cups from Eden Coffee, and my stomach growled.

One latte. I’d go without jelly and fruit for the week in exchange for a single latte.

I rushed to get my wallet from my locker, then I hurried out the lobby’s front doors. Three doors down and across the street, the cute green building beckoned.

The scent of coffee beans, sugar and pastries greeted me before I even reached the entrance to Eden Coffee. My stomach growled louder. I hadn’t had breakfast this morning, so I dug into my wallet, searching for enough change to afford a muffin or a scone.

Hell, I’d clean the coffee shop’s bathrooms for a cinnamon roll or slice of banana bread.

Seven quarters, three dimes, and six nickels later, I was digging for another quarter when I rounded the corner to step inside the doorway. My gaze lifted just before I crashed into a very solid, very broad chest.