Page 25 of Juniper Hill (The Edens 2)

“What is that?” Knox asked.

I set my utensil down and glanced at myself. “What?”

“What are you eating?”

“Macaroni and cheese.” Duh. I bit back the smart-ass remark and didn’t point out that most chefs were familiar with the concept of mac ’n’ cheese. I was treading lightly where Knox was concerned. Well . . . where everyone was concerned but especially him.

It had been nearly a week since our coffee collision, and I’d only seen him in passing. Until I had a replacement rental lined up, I was giving Knox a very wide berth.

Apartment hunting had been unsuccessful at best. Every Thursday when the local newspaper came out, I scoured the classifieds for a listing, but nothing new was available. I’d called the real estate office in town, hoping they might have a lead, but the woman I’d spoken to had no information and she’d warned me that rentals in my price range grew even scarcer through winter.

Eviction was not an option. Avoiding Knox would be the key to staying in his loft until spring.

I’d spent the past weekend resting and playing with Drake. We’d braved the grocery store for some essentials and then I’d taken him to a local park for a walk beneath the colorful fall trees. I’d walked into my Monday morning shift with more energy than I’d had in weeks. But today was Thursday and Drake had been up last night for three hours.

Knox needed to leave me alone so I could scarf these simple carbohydrates in the hopes they’d give me a boost to finish the day.

He had a pen and notepad in one hand. Sometime in the last week, he’d trimmed his beard, shaping it to the chiseled contours of his jaw. The sleeves of his chef’s coat were pushed up his forearms like he always seemed to do, and even though it was a fairly shapeless garment, it molded to his biceps and broad shoulders.

My heart did its little Knox-induced trill. No matter how many times I saw him, he stole my breath away. Even when he was glowering at my food.

“What kind of macaroni and cheese?” he asked.

Was that a trick question? “Um . . . the regular kind you buy at the grocery store?”

Eloise appeared behind Knox’s shoulder, pushing past him into the room. “Hey. What’s going on?”

Knox tossed a hand in my direction. “I came in to inventory the coffee supply. She’s eating macaroni and cheese.”

Eloise’s gaze, the same striking color as her brother’s, darted to my lunch. She cringed. “Oh. Is, um . . . is that the blue box kind?”

“Yes.”

She scrunched up her nose, then turned and disappeared down the hallway.

“What’s wrong with the blue box kind?” It was the cheapest. And I was using my dollars wisely.

One day, I’d move out of Knox’s loft. One day, I’d like to have my own home. One day, I’d like to have a garden and a fenced yard where Drake could have a puppy.

One day.

If I was going to make it to that one day, it would require sacrifices like blue box mac ’n’ cheese and ramen noodles.

Knox walked over, straight into my space, and I tilted up my chin to keep his face in view. He frowned and swiped up my plastic container, walking it to the garbage can in the corner. One tap on the side and my noodles went plopping to the bottom of the black liner.

“Hey.” I shot out of my chair. “That was my lunch.”

And I couldn’t afford to walk down Main to a restaurant for a replacement. Damn him. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my mouth shut.

Don’t call him an asshole. Don’t call him an asshole.

“We have a rule in this building,” he said, going to the break room’s cupboard where we kept the coffee. He opened the door, surveyed the contents, then scribbled something on his notepad. “No blue box mac ’n’ cheese.”

“Well, I didn’t know that rule. Next time, tell me the rules and I’ll be sure to follow them. But don’t throw my lunch away. I’m hungry.” On cue, my stomach growled.

?

?Come on,” he ordered and strode from the room.