The Family You Make (Sunrise Cove #1)

“Hey, if I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.” He opened his door, got out, and . . . didn’t shut his door.

“Payback sucks,” she warned him, then braced to get fussed over. But somehow she got lucky, because when Charlotte got out of her car, she didn’t so much as glance over at Mateo’s. Instead, she stood there, hands on hips, in her midnight-blue scrubs, her white doctor coat, and a thick pink down jacket, unzipped, which billowed behind her in the chilly breeze. Same with her blond hair, loose from its usual bun, flying around her face like a halo, giving her the look of an animated action hero. She gave Mateo a single nod and said “Doctor” in a tone so chilly Jane almost got frostbite.

“Doctor,” Mateo repeated back to her, sounding amused.

Charlotte stared at him, but Mateo didn’t turn to stone. “It’s going to snow again later.” She said this in that classy southern drawl of hers, the one that always sounded like maybe she was on the way to an opera or something equally sophisticated and elegant. “When it does, don’t even think about plowing my driveway.”

“Just trying to help,” Mateo said lightly.

“Who said I needed help?” She shivered and then zipped up her pink down jacket.

Mateo’s lips twitched, and Jane knew his amusement resulted from the fact that the badass Charlotte had one weakness—for anything pink. Then he slid a knowing look at the strings of twinkling Christmas lights lining Charlotte’s house’s eaves.

Charlotte was back to hands on hips. “They’re hard to get down.”

“I offered to help you.”

“Maybe I just want to be ready for the holidays ahead of time.”

“It’s only February.”

She dismissed this with a wave of her hand. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Mateo said. “You don’t need any help on anything, ever.”

“Now you’re getting it. And anyway, I don’t see you plowing Stan’s driveway. Or Peter’s.”

Stan and Peter, both elderly men, were neighbors. And Jane knew that Mateo had indeed plowed their driveways as well, many times. But Mateo didn’t tell Charlotte that or try to defend himself. He just stood there with a small smile on his face. Like Charlotte being all hoity-toity and contrary somehow amused him.

Jane had never understood why Charlotte didn’t like Mateo. The woman liked almost everyone, but if you were one of the few unlucky ones—well then, she could cut you dead with a single slice of her icy blue eyes. And those eyes were frigid right now. She might be a sweet steel magnolia who never swore in public or wore white after Labor Day, but she never, ever backed down from a confrontation.

The cold air coming in the open car door was sucking the breath from Jane’s lungs. Plus, she was hungry, tired, and needed to pee. With a sigh, she got out.

Charlotte glanced over and paled.

Jane hoisted the coffee and pastry bag. “Look, breakfast!”

Charlotte drew in a deep breath before sending Mateo a hard look that had something else in it as well, something Jane couldn’t place for certain but thought was maybe . . . hurt?

“It’s not what you think,” Mateo told her calmly.

That was when Jane realized she was wrapped in Mateo’s jacket—which covered her from chin to her thighs—hood up, arriving home with the guy at just past dawn, like two teenagers trying to sneak back into their house without getting caught. “Definitely not what you’re thinking,” Jane said, with a face that made Mateo give out a rough laugh.

“Thanks,” he said dryly and then turned to Charlotte. “She landed in the ER while you were in surgery.”

“In the ER? Oh my God.” Charlotte moved quickly toward Jane. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yes.” With a sigh, Jane let the hood fall back to reveal her small facial injuries and pushed up a sleeve to show the wrist wrap. “It’s nothing.”

Charlotte aimed a dark look at Mateo.

He put up his hands. “Hey, you should’ve seen her when she first arrived at the ER. This is her actually cleaned up.”

“You should have told me.” Charlotte turned her attention back to Jane, unzipping the jacket to see that Jane wore a set of the scrubs in the colors reserved for the ER.

Where Jane never worked. Her rotations were in the urgent care clinics, not the hospital. Even more pale now, Charlotte cupped Jane’s face, looking it over carefully. “What happened? And where are your clothes?”

They’d been caked with Levi’s blood, but that’s not what Charlotte was asking. Jane stepped closer, making sure to keep eye contact. “I’m not hurt,” she said. “Not in that way. I promise.” She handed the coffee and pastry bag to Mateo to hold so she could put her hands over Charlotte’s. She knew the woman’s mind would take her to the worst possible place, assuming someone had hurt Jane on purpose. Badly. As Charlotte had once been hurt on purpose. Badly. “You heard about the gondola that went down last night?”

“Yes,” Charlotte said. “No one was on it. It was downplayed for the press, presumably so as not to dissuade the ski season traffic in any way.”

“It’s true that no one was on the gondola that went down. But I was on the one just behind it, with another passenger. We got tossed around some, but I’m fine.”

“Oh my God.” Charlotte tugged her in and hugged her hard. “Do you know what could have happened?”

“But it didn’t,” Jane said.

“Why on God’s green earth didn’t you call me? I was right there at the hospital.” She turned on Mateo like this was his doing.

“Yep, and there’s my cue to go,” he said, handing Jane back the bag and coffee.

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that just like a man, turning tail and running from a discussion.”

Mateo stopped dead in his tracks, his dark eyes flashing something more than good humor for once. “You’re not looking for a discussion, Charlotte. You’re looking for a fight. And I’m not backing down from either. Name the time and place, babe. And I’m there.”