Page 34 of Juniper Hill (The Edens 2)

Maybe it was the woman herself, haunting my dreams.

CHAPTER SEVEN

MEMPHIS

The thud of footsteps climbing the loft’s staircase and the soft knock that followed were becoming my favorite sounds. He might only come up to hold Drake, but every time Knox showed at my door in the middle of the night, it was like a warm hug.

It had been a long time since I’d been hugged.

He came right inside, toeing off his shoes before stealing a crying Drake from my arms. A flash of pain crossed his face, like he’d gotten a papercut. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I swore I saw it each time he held Drake. It was gone in an instant as Knox set out on his regular path across the room.

“What’s the problem tonight, boss?” That smooth, deep voice was as comforting to me as it was my son.

“Sorry we woke you up.”

He turned at the wall and frowned. Knox, I’d learned, wasn’t a fan of my apologies.

I made them regardless.

“Rest, Memphis.” He nodded toward the bed, but I went to the couch, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders.

In the past month, I’d spent twelve nights on this couch, watching as the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on carried my son. Twelve nights, and my crush on Knox Eden was as strong as the coffee I made each morning in my new maker.

The weather had shifted and October’s cold night temperatures meant there was no need to leave the window open. How Knox heard Drake cry from his house, I wasn’t sure, but I hadn’t mustered the nerve to ask. Whatever, however, he knew, I was simply grateful for the reprieve.

And for a little time alone with a man almost too good to be true.

“Was he like this last night?” Knox asked.

“No. He only cried for a bottle but after I fed him, he went right back to sleep.”

“Progress. Just keep growing and we’ll get through this.” Knox put Drake on his broad shoulder, exactly where my son preferred to be.

Maybe it was because Knox had such a big shoulder to sleep on. 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.

Knox was wearing gray sweats tonight that pooled at his feet. He had on a white sleeveless T-shirt, his tattoos on display.

“What do your tattoos mean?” I asked.

It had been on the tip of my tongue for weeks. My curiosity about Knox was as insatiable as it was dangerous. The more I learned, the harder I crushed.

“The eagle is my favorite bird.” He nodded to his left side and the feathered wings curled around his biceps. The face of the fierce creature was as haunting as it was beautiful.

Knox passed the couch, shifting to show me his right side. The blue-white nightlights I’d added to the loft illuminated the black lines and circles on his skin. “These are planets. I have one on my shoulder

blade that’s an outline of Mars. Not that I’m into astronomy. They represent our horses. Dad bought eight horses years ago and Eloise named them all after the planets. Mars is mine.”

“Do you go riding often?”

“Not as much as I’d like. I keep him at the ranch so he can have company. I try to take him out once a month or so.”

My horse’s name had been Lady. She’d pranced around like one too. My sister and I had both taken riding lessons as kids because at the time, it had been the popular extracurricular activity for New York socialites. Then one of Mom’s friends had called the activity antiquated, refusing to send her own daughters. A week later, my parents had sold Lady and I’d been forced to endure piano lessons instead.

“You ever ride before?” he asked.