Juniper Hill (The Edens, #2)

by Devney Perry

How long could a person hold on to the end of their rope before their grip slipped?

To know that none had been as awful as the first-worst day.

To know that if I’d survived that one, I could endure the second and the third and the fourth.

“I’ll get it.” A deep, rugged voice sounded from behind me, then came the crunch of boots on gravel.

Tall. Broad. Tattooed. Gorgeous.

But the old Memphis—single, rich and always up for an orgasm or two Memphis—really, really liked sexy, bearded men.

“Good, you’re helping.” She smiled at him, then waved us all inside.

“Knox Eden, meet Memphis Ward. Memphis, this is my brother Knox. This is his house.”

“Is, um . . . is this place not for rent?”

“No, it’s not,” he said as Eloise said, “Yes, it is.”

“I don’t want to cause any trouble.” My stomach churned. “Maybe we should find another place.”

“Okay, I need to be honest. When you called and said there weren’t any apartments around town, I did some checking too. And you’re right. Nothing is available in your price range.”

I groaned. So she’d pawned me off on her unwilling brother. I was a charity case.

Why did I get the feeling it was hard for people to tell her no? Or that she rarely accepted it as an answer?

Drake chose that moment to let out a screech before nuzzling toward my breast.

“Can we help you get unpacked?” Winslow asked. “I’d much rather stay here than head back out on patrol and write speeding tickets.”

“You’ll have to have baths in the sink,” I told Drake, taking the empty bottle from his mouth.

Drake blinked. “I like it too.”

“Not everything about today was bad, was it?” I asked Drake as Knox strode out of his bedroom. “At least we’ve got a great view.”

There was no place I’d rather be than standing in my kitchen, a knife in hand, with the scents of fresh herbs and baked bread swirling in the air.

Correction. There was no place I’d rather be than standing in my kitchen alone.

Their reasons were solid. I was thirty years old. Eloise was twenty-five. I had more experience with business management and more dollars in my bank account to fall back on.

And though Eloise loved this hotel, she had a soft and gentle heart.

That kid had cried for hours last night, so loud I’d heard it all the way from the garage.

“That baby is the same age as Hudson.”

“She’s a single working mother, Knox. Not everyone has the luxury of maternity leave.”

“Afraid she’s going to murder you in your sleep?”

No. Because apparently no one was listening to me today.

Eloise’s face lit up.

“One sister. One brother.”

Watching her eat was erotic.

Only one other woman had had the same impact. And she’d fucked me over ruthlessly.

“Unless you count Ronald McDonald.”

Eloise’s mouth was too full for her to speak but that didn’t matter. I told you so was written all over her face.

“I’ll get it. You eat.”

“No, it’s fine.” Except the strain on her face said it wasn’t fine. And she didn’t touch her food again. What the hell?

In another life, another world, I’d chase a woman like Memphis. But I’d spent the last five years in reality.

Memphis Ward was none of my damn business.

Drake had been crying since one. I’d been crying since two.

“Baby.” A tear dripped down my cheek. “I don’t know what to do for you.”

For the dark hours when the only person around to hear him cry was me.

Motherhood, I’d learned in the past two months, was nothing more than a ritual of second-guessing yourself.

The energy to cry was waning. I’d let my son carry that torch for the rest of the night.

and for that second, the loft was so quiet I could actually hear my own thoughts.

if babies could talk, he would have told me to shove that plastic nipple imposter up my ass.

A pounding shook the door, cutting through Drake’s noise.

Oh, he did not look happy.

“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 scu...

the black ink of tattoos blended almost invisibly with his tanned skin. The sweatpants he wore hung low on his narrow...