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Drake cried and cried, not giving a damn about my apology. He was only eight weeks old, and while this trip had been hard on me, for him it was probably akin to torture.
Once, I’d been a girl who’d grown up in a mansion. A girl who’d had a private jet at her disposal. The realization that the only possessions truly mine would fit into a Volvo sedan was . . . humbling.
I didn’t like to be in trouble and my go-to response was to talk my way through it.
I looked nothing like the version of Memphis Ward who’d done a virtual interview with Eloise weeks ago. But this was me. There was no hiding reality.
I’d stopped dreaming the day I’d started ranking my worst days. There’d been so many, it had been the only way to keep moving forward. 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. Today marked the fifth.
I stood, ready to smile and introduce myself, but the second I spotted the man walking my way, my brain scrambled. Tall. Broad. Tattooed. Gorgeous. Why had I kept driving last night? Why hadn’t I stopped at a hotel with a shower? I was in no place to crush on a guy.
My neighbor, my landlord, wasn’t just muscled, he was cut. He was a symphony of rippled muscle that sang in perfect harmony with his handsome face.
Her cheeks were rosy and her soft lips painted a pale pink. Well . . . fuck. I was in trouble.
Memphis was . . . striking. I’d thought the same yesterday, even with blue circles beneath her eyes. But today her beauty was distracting. Trouble.
Skip glanced at Memphis, his footsteps stuttering as he did his own double take. Memphis’s beauty turned heads twice.
Only one other woman had had the same impact. And she’d fucked me over ruthlessly. Trouble. Goddamn trouble. I needed Memphis out of my kitchen and, before long, out of my loft.
Memphis Ward was none of my damn business.
Except youre gonna make her your business soon enough
He’d never know how he’d tormented me as an infant. He’d never know that I was hovering above rock bottom. He’d never know that being a mother was so damn hard.
Motherhood, I’d learned in the past two months, was nothing more than a ritual of second-guessing yourself.
Old Memphis always wanted to come out and play dirty when Knox was around. She wanted to tug at the long strands of hair that curled at his nape.
she sent me a glare. It was subtle, but fire sparked in those brown eyes. If she let that flame blaze, she’d level me to the ground and leave nothing behind but ash.
“Headache, Knox?” Skip asked. “Yeah.” Her name was Memphis Ward.
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.
That tiny cry was like a dagger to my heart. It was the sound of a dream lost. The sound of a family gone.
Knox was more tempting than any meal. More dangerous than the knife in his grasp.
The thrill that came with Knox was addicting.
My family knew what had happened, but it was something I’d refused to discuss after I’d moved home. No one knew how hard it was to be around a baby.
I was attracted to her. Every time she walked into the room, my heart stopped and my dick twitched.
He kept crying, because yeah, he didn’t know me. And it was too similar. It was too hard. The only thing that kept me from bolting was his hair. He had his mother’s blond hair. Not black, like Jadon’s. Blond. This was not the same child. This was not the same situation.
Maybe it was his smell or his voice or the easy cadence of his swagger. My son preferred Knox’s chest to mine. My son was no fool. I was as enchanted as my baby.
Maybe motherhood wasn’t always being the person your child leaned on, but finding the person they needed when you weren’t enough.
Watching them together was a dream. A fantasy of a different life had I made better choices.
“You’re not alone. Not anymore.” I opened my mouth but no words came out. He was hugging me again, holding me so tight with those invisible arms that I couldn’t speak.
I didn’t like to see Drake cry. But Memphis? It was like getting the wind knocked out of me. “Hey.” I went to her side and fit my hand to her elbow. “What happened, honey?”
Memphis and Drake had brought life to my home. Laughter and noise that I hadn’t even realized I’d wanted.
“I cook for you because it’s how I show someone I care. I cook for you because I love the look on your face after that first bite. I cook for you because I’d rather cook for you than anyone else.” “What?” My jaw dropped. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with you, woman.” My mouth was still open. Which suited Knox just fine. Because he raised his hands, framed my face. Then sealed his lips over mine.
“Do you need to get going?” Mom asked. “Or can you stick around to take this pie to Memphis?” “Memphis? My Memphis?” She arched her eyebrows. “Your Memphis?” Shit.
Her entire body sagged. “I don’t want to be your mistake.” Those words held so much pain. So much weight. She’d been someone else’s mistake. If I had to guess, I’d say it was Drake’s father.
Knox was a good man. He was as reliable as the sunrise. As breathtaking as the Montana sunsets. He was the type of person I wanted Drake to become.
That question stopped me cold. “Yep.” Jill popped the p, the disdain in her voice as bright as the yellow color on the walls. “There’s another single mom looking for a daddy. I guess if I were her, I’d go after the richest bachelor in town too.” I cringed. This was what people were saying about me? That I was after Knox for his money? Humiliation crawled up my skin, red and itchy. My cheeks flamed.
“If we tried this and it didn’t work, you’d lose him.” “Yeah.” He nodded. “I know what’s on the line, Memphis. But I’m standing here anyway.”
Drake’s crying stopped by the time we hit the highway. And that’s when mine started. I was so tired. Mentally. Physically. But mostly, I was tired of being alone.
Except I couldn’t keep going like this. I needed . . . help. Admitting that, even to myself, made me just cry harder.
Memphis sipped from the black plastic lid, and that look of sheer joy on her face . . . For that look, for a laugh, I’d bring her a coffee every day.
when I looked at Knox, I saw the best man I’d ever known.
“He told me it was a bold move to serve him mac ’n’ cheese. I told him I had a woman at home who’d promised me it was the best in the world. He agreed.” “Yes.” I flew at him, jumping into his arms because I knew he’d catch me.
“You are mine. Whether we do this tonight or not.” He was going to make me fall in love with him, wasn’t he?
“You are . . . you are a dream,” he breathed. “I gave up on those.” My breath hitched. “So did I.”
“Then here’s another truth. I’m going to take them. I’m going to take all of your bests. Every damn one until you can’t keep track of the top five anymore because there are so many bests that you’ll need a hundred to capture them all.” “Promise?” I whispered. “I swear it.”
I should have been right here, watching from the sidelines because goddamn it, that was a view. Nothing beyond my windows would ever compare.
what? What is that look for?” She looked like she was about to cry. “You’re really not going anywhere, are you?” “No.” I abandoned the fridge and walked around the island, crowding her space. “This is new. We’ll take a little time. Get used to each other. But I’m not the kind of man who gives up what’s good. And we’re good. We’re fucking good, honey.”
Passion comes from the mess, Memphis.” He threaded his hands into my hair. “So does everything lasting.”
“Let me make this clear. You are mine. Drake is mine. For all of your todays and each of your tomorrows. Mine.
he gave me a sexy, devilish smirk. “Now you’re a mess.” His mess. In that mess, there was passion. In that passion, we were perfect.
“Because he wakes up before dawn,” Griffin muttered, pulling out a stool. “My boy’s a morning kid.” “Not mine.” Knox pulled out the stool beside his brother. “Mine’s a night owl.”
