The Family You Make (Sunrise Cove #1)(86)

On a choked laugh, she reached up and covered his mouth with her hand. “Don’t.” But it was too late. Memories washed over her, his worshiping every inch of her body, her turning the tables and doing the same to him, knowing she might never be able to get enough of him . . .

“Charlotte.” His voice was terrifyingly gentle as he removed her hand from his mouth and held on to it. “Maybe we should talk.”

“It’s three thirty in the morning.”

He just looked at her.

She squirmed. “Talking makes things real. And real things . . . well, they end, Mateo.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Stop running.”

“I’m not trying to.” She tossed up her hands. “Look, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a handful.”

“That’s okay, I’ve got two hands.”

She smiled, but her eyes also filled. “I told you from the very beginning,” she managed around a rough throat. “I don’t date. And I don’t sleep in other people’s beds either. I . . .” She broke off to breathe. “I can’t sleep in other people’s bed. And you know why.”

His eyes softened as he reached for her, sudden understanding in every line of his body now.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I really am, but—”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Charlotte,” he murmured, slipping a hand in hers. “We could always try your bed.”

She stared down at their entwined fingers, running the pad of her thumb over his calloused palm. She shivered, remembering some of the things his hands had done to her, all incredibly, amazingly perfect. “I don’t sleep well if someone else is in my bed.”

“Then lucky for you I don’t mind sleeping on the floor. Did it for most of my premed college years actually. Couldn’t afford my own room, so I couch-surfed. It was better than a park bench.” He reached back out the door and picked up something he’d apparently left on the porch before knocking.

A rolled-up sleeping bag. “This thing has seen a lot,” he said. “Your floor will be luxurious accommodations, trust me.”

She stared at the sleeping bag and realized . . . he’d known her problem all along. Known and understood. And had come up with a work-around. As if maybe she truly, honestly did mean something to him.

“My floor is hardwood,” she said inanely.

His eyes twinkled, but he didn’t smile. “Doesn’t bother me, as long as it doesn’t bother you.” With his free hand, he tipped her face up to his. “Does it bother you, Charlotte? That I want to sleep near you? That I want to be with you?”

Staring at him for a long beat, she slowly shook her head.

He smiled, stepped all the way inside, and closed the door at his back before taking her hand and just looking at her.

Letting her make the move, she realized. So she led him upstairs, her heart pounding in her chest and in her ears. Incredibly aware of him at her back, she brought him inside her room.

He shut the door, walked to her bed, and pulled back her covers, gesturing for her to get in. “You’re cold,” he murmured, “wearing only that stolen shirt.”

“Borrowed.”

“What’s mine is yours. Besides, I love the way you look in it.” He pulled the covers up to her chin, planted a hand on either side of her head and leaned in to kiss her softly. “’Night.”

Then he unrolled his sleeping bag and slid into it. On the floor.

She stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the familiar panic. Or at least unease.

Neither came.

She let out a breath and dropped a hand over the side of the bed.

Reaching up, he slipped his into hers. “Sweet dreams, Charlotte.”

For a beat, she lay there, taking in the room. Quiet. Warm. Dark. She could hear Mateo’s steady breathing from the floor.

Hers wasn’t steady. In fact, she might not be breathing at all. Because it was decision time. Right here, right now. If she was going to face her fears, there was no better man to do that with than Mateo. She knew this because every time she was anywhere in his proximity, she felt a calm wash over her, as well as a sense of anticipation. The very best kind of anticipation. It was like her body recognized him as a soulmate.

Even as her brain pretended such a thing didn’t exist.

She didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t want to give one horrific memory the power to steal away the hope of a happy future. She wanted to reach out and grab what was hers for the taking.

She was scared. Terrified, actually. But she was also a hundred percent positive she was doing the right thing. “Mateo?”

“Yeah?”

She slid out of her bed. “Move over?”

He scooted and made room for her, and she crawled into his sleeping bag.





Chapter 25


The next day Jane grabbed her lunch bag from the Homeward resort’s staff fridge where she’d stashed it and headed outside. The temp was a brisk thirty-two degrees, but in the sun at high altitude, it would feel warm and glorious. And after five hours in the packed urgent care, she needed some warm and glorious.

But even working as hard as she did in Tahoe, she enjoyed the work. For one thing, she didn’t see the death and gore up here as she did for the rest of the year.