CHAPTER EIGHT #2
“When I was living in San Francisco, I was in this cramped, two-bedroom apartment with three total windows. They all faced the brick building across the alley. Drove me nuts not being able to look outside and see farther than twenty feet.”
No trees. No grass. Not even the sky. For a Montana guy who’d grown up on a sprawling ranch, that apartment might as well have been a prison cell.
“When I moved home, I knew I wanted to live in the country, but I was selective about the property. My parents and Griffin suggested a part of the ranch, but I wanted to be closer to town. When the winter roads are shit, they don’t have to leave but I have to drive into town each day.
I took my time, waiting for the right property to come on the market.
While I waited, I lived in the caretaker’s apartment at the hotel. ”
“Oh, I didn’t know there was a caretaker’s apartment.”
“Apartment is a generous term,” I said. “It was smaller than your loft. But it’s gone now. It was beside the kitchen, and when we remodeled, I took the wall out to use that space for the walk-in and my office.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “I’m guessing there were no windows in that apartment.”
“Not one. I was so tired of artificial light that when I bought this land and hired my architect, I told him that I wanted enough windows that I could see outside from every inch of the house. Even the bathrooms.”
Her eyes scanned the walls. “Now I have to see these bathrooms.”
I chuckled and pointed down the hallway. “There’s two down that way. And then one in my suite. Go ahead. I’ll finish this up while you check it out.”
She smiled and went off exploring, taking Drake with her.
I watched her disappear, my gaze raking down her slender shoulders to the soft sway of her hips. Her jeans clung to the curve of her ass and those lean, long legs. The tendrils of her hair swished against her waist.
Damn that hair. So often at work, she had it up in a ponytail.
When I went to the loft, it was usually in a messy bun.
It was longer than I’d realized. And all I wanted was to wrap those blond waves around my fist while I took her mouth.
I wanted that hair spread on my pillow and threaded between my fingers.
My cock swelled. “Focus,” I muttered.
I finished with the pasta, making the sauce and adding the vegetables. Then I served us each a bowl, topping it with fresh parmesan and Italian parsley. I was refilling her wine glass as she passed the kitchen, heading toward my bedroom.
With napkins and forks out, I set up Drake’s car seat on the table so he could sit and watch us eat.
“Do you ever worry that someone will walk into your backyard and catch you in the shower?” Memphis asked as she returned to the room.
The living room, kitchen and dining room were all connected in an open concept. It meant that from the kitchen, I could still participate in conversations when I had people over.
“Nah. No one comes out here. I did have a deer check me out this summer.”
She giggled, another win, and put Drake in his seat. Then she took the chair closest to him and placed the napkin on her lap. “Thank you for this. For making me dinner and making me smile.”
“That’s two thank-yous since you’ve walked through the door.” She opened her mouth but I held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t apologize.”
“Okay.” A laugh sparkled in those chocolate-brown eyes, the caramel flecks dancing. That laugh shot straight to my groin.
“Dig in.” I swallowed hard and picked up my fork, but it froze midair as she twirled a bite of pasta and lifted it to her mouth. When her head lolled to one side as she chewed and she closed her eyes, a look of sheer pleasure crossed her face.
A look I wanted to see while I was buried inside her tight heat.
She didn’t even realize her beauty, did she? Memphis was a sweet temptation and a sinful craving.
Drake kicked in his chair, letting out a happy squeal. I dropped my gaze to my bowl, focusing on the meal instead of his mother.
“This is delicious,” she said.
“It’s fairly simple.”
“Maybe for you.”
“Do you cook much?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. My parents had a chef growing up. And I ate out a lot in the city.”
“Want me to teach you how to cook?”
“Maybe.” Another smile. Another victory.
Drake made another string of noises, keeping us both entertained as we ate.
“I guess he didn’t have much of a nap at daycare today.” Memphis pinched his shoe-covered foot. “Maybe he’ll actually sleep all night.”
“Maybe.” I hated that I hoped he didn’t.
“I wanted to tell you that I think I found a new rental.”
The fork dropped from my hand, clattering into my empty bowl. “What? Where?”
When Eloise had asked me to give Memphis the loft, she’d said Memphis would likely be out by winter. Well, winter was just around the corner, and the idea of her moving made my stomach twist.
It was too soon, right? She’d just moved here. They were just getting settled into a routine. What was the goddamn rush?
“It’s not far from the hotel, actually.” She rattled off the address and my heart climbed down from my throat.
“You can’t live there.”
Her forehead furrowed. “Why not?”
“Because I know which place you’re talking about. A light-blue duplex, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I almost moved in there when I came back to Quincy. It has a pretty high turnover because it’s right by Willie’s.”
“What’s Willie’s?”
“A bar and the local hangout. It’ll be loud.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “I was just there and it was quiet.”
“It’s a Monday. Drive by on Friday or Saturday night.”
“Dang.” She sighed. “Well, I promise I’m looking.”
“Don’t worry about it. You can stay here as long as you need.”
In the weeks she’d been here, I’d grown attached to her car in the driveway. I’d gotten used to looking for her light in the mornings. And I liked knowing she was asleep, close by, when I came home each night.
“This was a temporary arrangement,” she said.
“Do you want to leave?” I held my breath, waiting for the answer.
“No.”
Thank fuck. “Stay. You don’t need to move out.”
“Are you sure?”
I shrugged. “It will be a lot easier to teach you how to cook if you’re my neighbor.”
She smiled again and stood, collecting our empty dishes. “I’ll clean up.”
“You’ve been cleaning all day.”
“I don’t mind.” She moved around the kitchen easily.
I stared unabashedly.
I didn’t like having people in my kitchen. Even Mom and Lyla knew not to intrude when they came over. For Memphis, I’d make an exception.
“I’d better get Drake home and in the bath,” she said as she hung a dish towel on the oven’s handle.
“I’ll carry him up.”
She didn’t argue as I hoisted Drake with one arm, using my free hand to take the car seat while Memphis hauled her purse and the diapers to the loft. When her things were put away and Drake was lying on a blanket, she walked me to the door. “Thanks again for dinner.”
“Welcome.” The lock of hair, the same one I’d tucked behind her ear the other night, fell across her forehead.
My fingertips smoothed it away, earning a hitch in her breath. Her gaze dropped to my mouth.
I inched closer, until the curve of her pert breasts brushed against my T-shirt.
She rose up on her toes, her hand lifting to my pec. Her palm pressed into my hard nipple.
I was leaning down, ready to take that mouth and make it mine, when Drake cooed.
My entire body tensed before I took a step away. Damn. The pretty pink blush on Memphis’s cheeks matched the color of her lips. “I gotta go.”
“Yeah.” She shied away. “I’d, um . . . better get him ready for bed.”
“Night.” I forced myself out the door and to my house for a cold shower. Then I spent the rest of the night reading—or staring at the same page for hours because my concentration was shit, thanks to that almost kiss.
God, I wanted her. It had been a long time since I’d craved a woman. Her body. Her mind. Her time. I wanted it all.
Except . . . Drake.
The kid changed everything.
Darkness crept through the house as I crawled into bed, wishing for the first time that I wasn’t beneath this roof alone.
My parents and siblings used to drop by more often. But that was before Hudson was born, and now we all seemed to congregate at Griff and Winn’s place so that he was close to his crib.
Memphis and Drake had brought life to my home. Laughter and noise that I hadn’t even realized I’d wanted.
I hated giving cooking lessons. It was my own personal brand of torture. But for the chance to have Memphis here, just a little while longer, I’d endure.
Memphis. Her name was on my mind as I drifted off to sleep.
Memphis. I never had found out why she’d been crying when she’d come home.
And the next morning, when she came down the loft’s stairs with a bright smile, I decided not to ask.