My hand came to my chest, rubbing at the sting. Then I stood and glanced to the bed.
Memphis was asleep, her lips parted too. A man could lose himself in that sort of beauty.
Before I did something stupid, like stand there and stare at her until dawn, I eased out of the loft, turning the lock on the door behind me before heading to my own bed.
Sleep should have come easy. It was quiet. Dark. Except every time I closed my eyes, the image of Memphis would pop into my head. The blond hair sweeping across her cheek. The part of her lips. The soft swell of her breasts beneath that night shirt.
Maybe her kid’s crying hadn’t been keeping me from sleep.
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.
“Not for a long time.”
He didn’t offer to take me out on Mars. I wouldn’t have accepted.
This, these dark nights, were all I’d let myself have of Knox.
Drake was making progress and before long, these visits would stop. We’d return to being his temporary tenants. I’d be his coworker, rarely crossing his path. And someday, I’d move on. When that day came, I needed my heart intact. My whole heart.
Drake’s crying began to ebb, shifting from a broken string of screams to a whine between hitched breaths.
“There we go,” Knox murmured, his hand splayed on the baby’s back. The broad shoulder, the hum of our conversation, worked like a charm on Drake every time.
“Shouldn’t it be me who makes him stop crying?” The admission slipped from my lips before I could stop it. Guilt and shame clouded my voice. It should be me, shouldn’t it? Drake was mine.
“You are.” Knox paused in front of me, towering over me with my tiny son in his massive arms. “You let me in the door, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” Maybe motherhood wasn’t always being the person your child leaned on, but finding the person they needed when you weren’t enough. For Drake’s sake, for him to get some rest, I’d set aside my pride and let Knox step in to help.
The woman who actually earned his strong arms for real hugs would be a lucky, lucky girl. I snuggled deeper into my blanket, curling my legs beneath me as I followed Knox’s every step.
Exhaustion was a constant companion to my waking moments. The only reason I was able to keep my eyes open was because the picture of Knox and Drake was one I didn’t want to miss. It was the reason I chose the couch over snuggling into bed.
Watching them together was a dream. A fantasy of a different life had I made better choices.
Drake had stopped crying and was moments away from sleep. This interlude was nearly over. For my son’s sake, I was grateful. For mine . . .
It would be difficult to close the door behind Knox when he left.
A yawn stretched my lips and I waved it off. “Sorry.”
“Now you’re apologizing for yawning?” He shot me a grin as he passed the couch.
“My father once scolded me for yawning during a meeting. I apologized then and haven’t stopped since.”
It was the first time I’d mentioned my father aloud. For over a month, I’d kept my past locked away. I’d dodged questions about my family and the reasons why I’d moved across the country. Sleep deprivation had caused my walls to drop.
Or maybe it was just Knox. He shared freely. He made me want to do the same.
“Seriously?” he asked.
I shrugged.
“You don’t talk about your family.”
“I don’t talk about much.”
“This is true.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “Where are your parents?”