Come in whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you.” I held out my hand once more because shaking her hand was important. It was one of the few lessons my father had taught me that I didn’t loathe.
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
Winslow and Eloise waved as they walked out the door.
Another whimper from Drake sent me flying into action, digging out a bottle from the diaper bag before we settled on the couch. While he chugged, I surveyed my new temporary home.
The white walls were pitched with the roofline and a thick wooden beam the color of the floors ran the length of the space. Three dormer windows had been cut into the side facing the house, giving me a view of Juniper Hill and the indigo mountains beyond. Alcoves and half walls created different compartments in the floorplan.
Across from the couch and behind a short partition was a bed covered in a patchwork quilt. The kitchen was on one side of the loft, next to the door, while the bathroom was at its opposite. The space was just large enough for a shower stall, sink and toilet.
“You’ll have to have baths in the sink,” I told Drake, taking the empty bottle from his mouth.
He stared up at me with his beautiful brown eyes.
“I love you.” I hadn’t told him that enough on this drive.
We hadn’t had enough moments like this, just the two of us together. “What do you think about this?”
Drake blinked.
“I like it too.”
I burped him, then dug out a baby blanket, settling him on the floor while I rushed to bring in the last couple of loads and unpack.
Hours later, my clothes were refolded and put away in the one and only dresser. The drawers built into the bedframe I used for Drake’s outfits. The small closet was stuffed by the time I hung a few coats and sweaters, then stowed the large suitcases stuffed with smaller suitcases stuffed with bags and backpacks.
I’d bought two sandwiches at the last gas station I’d stopped at, thinking there wouldn’t be time to make a grocery store run, so I ate my dry ham and swiss, chasing it down with some water, and went about giving Drake his first kitchen-sink bath.
He fell asleep in my arms before I placed him in his portable crib. I summoned enough energy to shower and wash my hair, then crashed within seconds of my head hitting the pillow.
But my son wasn’t much for letting me rest these days and just after eleven he woke up hungry and fussy. One bottle, one clean diaper and one hour later, he showed no signs of sleep.
“Oh, baby. Please.” I paced the length of the loft, walking past the open windows, hoping the clean, cool air would settle him down.
Except Drake was not having it. He cried and cried, like he did most nights, squirming because he just was not comfortable.
So I walked and walked, bouncing and swaying with every step.
A light from Knox’s house flipped on as I passed a window. A flash of skin caught my eye and stopped my feet.
“Whoa.”
Knox was shirtless, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. They molded to his strong thighs. The waistband clung to the V at his hips.
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.
Pure temptation, poised at the window of a woman who could not afford to stray from her path.
But what was the harm in a look?
I hovered beside the window’s frame, staying out of sight, and stole another glance as he raised a towel to dry the ends of his dark hair.
“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.”
CHAPTER TWO
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.