Page 73 of Juniper Hill (The Edens 2)

“When does he start getting solid foods?” I pulled out a carton of eggs.

“When he’s six months.”

“Couple more to go. Then I’ll hook you up, little man. We’re not doing boring baby food in this house.” I glanced over at Memphis. “Can babies have—what? What is that look for?”

She looked like she was about to cry. “You’re really not going anywhere, are you?”

“No.” I abandoned the fridge and walked around the island, crowding her space. “This is new. We’ll take a little time. Get used to each other. But I’m not the kind of man who gives up what’s good. And we’re good. We’re fucking good, honey.”

She nodded and smiled, wiping at her eyes. “We are good.”

I kissed her forehead, then handed her Drake. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Whatever you’re making.”

“How hungry are you?”

She shrugged. “I’m not starving.”

“Think you can wait an hour? I can make a quiche.”

“I’ll wait.”

I winked. “Good choice.”

“Wait.” She held up a hand as I pulled out a mixing bowl. “What about work?”

“I’m not working today.”

“But . . . it’s a Saturday.”

And since the day she’d moved in, I’d worked every Saturday. “I texted Roxanne last night and asked if she could cover today.”

“You did? When?”

“After you fell asleep.” I wanted a day with them. A full day, no distractions. Just another normal day to show her how good normal could be. “Got any plans today?”

“Um . . . no. I was going to clean the loft. Do some laundry.”

“How about we hang here instead?”

The smile that stretched across her pretty mouth made the flack I’d catch from Roxanne later worth it.

Never in my life had I canceled on work to be with a woman. Roxanne had already been teasing me for ditching out on prep work to hunt Memphis down in the hotel. So last night when I’d told her I’d give her an extra vacation day over Christmas if she worked for me, she’d sent a string of heart and eye-roll emojis and a single thumbs-up.

I went to the pantry for flour and salt to make the pie crust.

Memphis put Drake on a blanket on the floor in the living room to kick and squeal. Then she sat at the island and watched me work, her attention fixed on my every move.

“Watching you cook is better than TV.”

I chuckled and put the quiche in the oven. Then I washed my hands and tossed the towel aside before I slid onto the stool beside hers, fitting her legs between my spread knees. I skimmed her thighs, looking forward to Drake’s first nap, when I could strip her out of these pajama bottoms. “Kiss me.”

She leaned in but stopped, a whisper away from my lips. “Say please.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then I won’t kiss you.”