Home > Juniper Hill (The Edens #2)(32)

Juniper Hill (The Edens #2)(32)
Author: Devney Perry

“I’ll be staying tonight and am looking forward to another dinner.”

“Friday nights I run a special. I haven’t decided what it will be yet. Any requests?”

He rubbed his hands together. “Surprise me.”

“You’re on.” Ideas raced through my mind. Dijon chicken. Pork medallions. Beef Wellington. I dismissed them all instantly, needing to hit the walk-in to see what I had on hand. Maybe a fish?

Quincy was all about comfort to me. It was home. Maybe I’d make Memphis’s mac ’n’ cheese and fry up a chicken with my favorite chipotle batter.

“For the article, the magazine will want to send out a photographer,” Lester said. “Would you mind?”

“Not a problem. Just tell me the day.”

“Excellent.” Lester stood, holding out his hand once more.

I got to my feet and shook it. “Thank you. Truly.”

“As I said, it was my pleasure. Until tonight.”

“If you’re exploring Quincy, I’d like to recommend Eden Coffee. My sister Lyla owns it. Though Cleo’s got her beat when it comes to cinnamon rolls and muffins. Please don’t tell Lyla I said that.”

Lester laughed. “Not a word.”

“But Lyla makes a tart cherry turnover that is incredible. She gets the cherries from Mom’s trees and her pastry crust is magical. She made some this morning. If they’re not sold out already, you won’t want to miss it.”

“You know, I was just thinking about getting a coffee.” He tightened the knot on his scarf. “I’ll have to hurry over.”

With a nod goodbye, I watched him cross the lobby’s floor and head out the doors. When he was out of sight from the large windows, I did a fist pump. “Yes.”

“Who was that?” Eloise asked as I passed by the desk and headed for the stairwell.

I held up a finger. “Tell you in a sec.”

The first person I wanted to tell was Memphis.

I took the stairs two at a time, rushing to find her on the second floor. She was finishing in the same room where we’d been earlier. The sound of her ringing phone chimed down the hallway.

She was sipping her coffee when I walked into the room, declining the call. Memphis declined a lot of calls.

“Hey,” I said so as not to startle her.

Her eyes whipped my direction and the crease between her eyebrows, the one that always came with those calls she never accepted, disappeared. “That was ten minutes.”

I walked right into her space, once more lifting the coffee from her hand. Then I framed her face and dropped my lips to hers for a quick kiss. “Guess what?”

She smiled. “What?”

I repeated my conversation with Lester in a blur and when I was done she beamed.

“Knox, this is . . .” Her hands flew in the air. “It’s Lester Novak. The Lester Novak.”

“I know.” God, I loved that she knew how big of a deal this was. That she was more excited than me.

“When I worked for Ward Hotels, we always tried to get him to stop by the restaurant and do a review. But he is nearly impossible to get. And he’s here.” Her hands went in the air again. “In Quincy.”

“And he didn’t hate my food.”

“Of course he wouldn’t hate your food. Duh. You’re the best chef I’ve ever met.”

The compliment was given so casually, like she was stating the obvious. The sky was blue. Snow was white. I was the best chef in the world.

Funny how weeks ago an opinion like Lester’s would have been the ruler by which I measured my success. Now, as long as Memphis enjoyed her meals, I didn’t need a critic’s review or five stars on Yelp.

“What are you going to make?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I was thinking comfort food. He liked the burger. I think sticking to food that is Quincy tried-and-true will be best. But I’ll probably make it up as I go. That’s usually the best.”

She nodded. “I agree.”

“Want to stick around? Go get Drake and have dinner here?”

“Yes, but I probably shouldn’t. I don’t want to distract you.”

“You are rather distracting.” I tugged at the end of her ponytail. Then because I couldn’t stop, I dropped my mouth to hers and got lost in the woman who was consuming my every waking thought.

She leaned into the kiss, rising up to get closer.

I was banding my arms around her, trapping her to my chest, when a throat cleared from the doorway.

Memphis tore herself away, her eyes widening. Behind us, Eloise stood beside the cleaning cart in the hallway.

“Should I pretend I didn’t see that?” Eloise asked.

“Nope.” I chuckled, snaking an arm around Memphis and pulling her back into my arms.

She stiffened. “Knox.”

“It’s too late now, honey. She’s not blind.”

“Oh my God.” She brought her hands up to her cheeks, whispering, “I’m going to get fired.”

“Eloise, Memphis is worried that she’s going to get fired.”

“Knox,” Memphis hissed, poking me in the ribs.

I ignored her and twisted to my sister. “Are you going to fire her for kissing me?”

“Of course not.”

“See?” I gave Memphis a smirk. “Small town, honey. No one cares.”

“Knox, I just came up to make sure everything was okay,” Eloise said. “And since it is . . . when you’re done here, would you make me an early lunch? I forgot one today and I’m starving.”

“Sure.”

Eloise retreated down the hallway, and when we heard the stairwell door open and close, Memphis sagged.

“I wasn’t sure if Eloise would care.”

“Nah. But I’d better make her lunch before she gets hangry. And before I need another cold shower.”

Memphis gave me a sheepish smile. “Are you okay with this pace?”

“There’s no rush.” I kissed the top of her hair. “I’m not going anywhere. When you’re ready, I’ll be here. We’ll take it slow. But no hiding it. I’m not keeping you a secret.”

The caramel flecks in her eyes danced. “No hiding.”

It might be awkward if I took over the hotel and became her boss’s boss. But that was tomorrow’s problem. Tonight, I just wanted to make dinner for Lester.

Then get home to Memphis.

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

 

MEMPHIS

 

 

When you’re ready, I’ll be here.

Was I ready?

A week ago, no. Knox had picked up on my hesitancy and hadn’t pushed too fast. But now? Maybe I’d needed the week to wrap my head around this. To let him kiss me often. To smile when he smiled. To open my mind to the idea of a someone.

Maybe I’d needed the week to remind myself that Knox wasn’t Oliver. And to remind myself that I wasn’t the same Memphis who’d been blinded by Oliver’s charm.

Not fooled.

Blinded.

The person who’d stolen my sight had been me. I’d shut my eyes to his faults and seen only good looks, money and status.

But I’d had my eyes opened thanks to a baby boy. And when I looked at Knox, I saw the best man I’d ever known.

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