Page 11 of Juniper Hill (The Edens 2)

KNOX

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.

Eloise swept through the swinging door that connected the kitchen to the restaurant. “And right through here is the kitchen.”

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

“Isn’t it awesome?” she asked over her shoulder.

Memphis stepped out from behind Eloise, and I did a double take. Her blond hair was straight and hanging in sleek panels over her shoulders. The bright lights brought out the caramel flecks in her brown eyes. Her cheeks were rosy and her soft lips painted a pale pink.

Well . . . fuck.

I was in trouble.

It was the same woman I’d met yesterday, but she was a far cry from the frazzled, exhausted person who’d moved into the loft. Memphis was . . . striking. I’d thought the same yesterday, even with blue circles beneath her eyes. But today her beauty was distracting. Trouble.

I had no time for trouble.

Especially when it came to my new tenant.

My knife worked through a batch of cilantro, my hand moving faster as I focused on the task at hand and ignored this intrusion.

“If the fridge in the break room is ever full, you can keep your lunch in here,” Eloise said, gesturing to the walk-in.

Wait. What? The knife dropped from my palm, nearly hitting a finger. No one kept their lunch in here. Not even my waitstaff. Granted, they rarely had to bring meals because I’d typically cook them a meal. Still . . . that walk-in was off-limits.

Eloise knew it was off-limits. Except my wonderfully annoying sister seemed intent on forcing Memphis into every aspect of my life. Wasn’t my home enough? Now my kitchen?

“Okay.” Memphis nodded, scanning the room, looking everywhere but at where I stood at the stainless-steel prep table in the center of the space.

She inspected the gas range along one wall, then the industrial dishwasher at her back. On the walls were shelves filled with clean ceramic plates and coffee mugs. She studied the tiled floor, the rows of spices and racks crammed with hanging pots and pans.

“Here’s the ice machine.” Eloise walked to the cooler, lifting the lid. “Help yourself.”

“All right.” Memphis’s voice was no more than a murmur as she tucked a lock of hair behind an ear. She’d promised yesterday to be quiet. I guess she intended to keep that vow at the hotel too.

I glanced at Eloise, then jerked my chin to the door. The tour was over. This was a kitchen. Just a commercial kitchen with bright lights and shiny appliances. And I was busy. This was my time alone to breathe and think.

But did Eloise take the hint and leave?

Of course not. She took up space against my table and leaned. Why the fuck was she leaning?

I clamped my teeth together and picked up my knife, gripping the handle until my knuckles were white. Normally I’d tell Eloise to scram, but I was making nice at the moment. Very nice.

This niceness was the reason I’d agreed to let Memphis crash in the loft above my garage. My sister had asked for a favor, and at the moment, I was granting them all. Soon enough, we’d have a difficult conversation. One I’d been dreading and avoiding. One that would change our relationship.

Until then, I’d let her invade my kitchen and allow her newest employee to stay at my home.

“So that’s the hotel,” Eloise told Memphis.

“It’s beautiful,” Memphis said. “Truly.”

Eloise circled the room with a finger. “Knox renovated the kitchen and restaurant last winter. That’s when my parents annexed the building next door for events.”

“Ah.” Memphis nodded, still looking anywhere but at me.

The crunch of cilantro beneath my knife filled the silence.