“Yeah?”
“I like this.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.” Not that she made any effort at moving away.
And maybe the best part of all was that he didn’t either. Closing her eyes, she let herself absorb the feel of a man’s arms around her. This man. He was big and warm. And he smelled good. Too good. Up against him like this, she found it suddenly far too easy to let her walls down and be vulnerable. Only she never did those two things.
Just then Jane opened the back door. “Hey, Charlotte—” She stopped short at the sight of them hugging. “Ohmigod, so sorry.” She started to go back in, then stopped and grinned. “Carry on!”
And then she was gone.
Charlotte buried her face in Mateo’s neck. Not out of embarrassment. She just wanted one last big sniff of him before forcing herself to pull back.
He was smiling. “Did you just smell me?”
“I believe it’s called breathing.”
Onto her, he smirked, but didn’t press further. Instead, he looked up at the holiday lights, half still on her eaves, the other half dangling from the roof to the ground. “Need help?”
“No. I—” But then she was talking to herself because he was climbing the ladder. “What are you doing?”
“It’s called lending a helping hand.”
“I’ve got it,” she called after him, doing her best not to stare at his butt, but honestly, it was a pretty great one, so she might not have tried as hard as she should. He was wearing work boots, dark jeans, and a black T-shirt with an unbuttoned flannel shirt over it, which flared away from him at the breeze. “Why doesn’t anyone wear a jacket around here? You’re going to turn into a Popsicle.”
“The way I see it, you’ve got two choices,” he said. “You could ask me to come down so you can do this all on your own, or . . .” He was rolling the lights up as he unhooked them from the roof, the strings fully cooperating and coiling in a nice lasso around his shoulder.
“Or?” she asked, curious in spite of herself.
“Or you could accept some neighborly help in the spirit it was intended, which is not to make you feel helpless, but to free up your rare free time for something else.”
Hadn’t she just lectured Jane about accepting help? Yes. Yes, she had. So maybe it was time she took some of her own advice. “Fine.” Her eyes were back on his very fine ass. “But you have to let me do something for you in return.”
He glanced down at her, smiling when she jerked her gaze off his butt. “You have my full attention,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll feed you after.”
He grinned. “Sold.”
Chapter 11
Jane was on hour sixteen of what should have been a twelve-hour shift. Her stomach was now eating itself. When she finally got a break between patients, she dashed into the cafeteria, grateful to be at Sierra North’s urgent care today, as she could run to the adjacent hospital and to the cafeteria there. She piled up a tray with food and sat with a grateful sigh. She picked up the can of soda that was her treat for surviving the day so far—briefly wishing that it was something with alcohol—and cracked it open.
It sprayed her in the face. With a gasp, she stilled in disbelief as it dripped off her nose. “That’s what I get for wishing you were alcohol.”
“Here.” A woman handed her a stack of napkins. “And yeah, a martini would be great about now.”
“Thanks.” With a wry grimace, Jane began to mop herself up. “And I’ve actually never had a martini.”
“That’s a crime against alcohol. Is this seat taken?”
Jane gave up dabbing at her face and soaked scrubs to look up at the woman who’d handed her the stack of napkins. Maybe late thirties, she was in yoga gear and had her brown hair up in a ponytail, her gray eyes behind boxy glasses. She wore a welcoming, warm smile that said she liked to talk.
And here was the thing. Jane liked to be lonely on her breaks. She looked forward to it, but she couldn’t be outright rude, so she nodded. Plus, she wasn’t going to lie: the fact that the woman’s tray was filled with desserts said they were probably soulmates.
The woman sat and reached for her own can of soda.
“I’d be care—” Jane started but gave up when that can blew up too.
The woman laughed as Jane got up and brought back more napkins. “Should’ve seen that coming,” she said ruefully.
Jane eyeballed the woman’s tray—all desserts—and had a hard time keeping her gaze off the stack of miniature lemon squares.
“Take them,” she said. “I’ve got my eyes on the big soft brownie anyway.”
Jane shook her head. “Oh, I couldn’t—”
Her new companion took the plate of mini lemon squares from her tray and set it on Jane’s. “For sharing your table.”
Jane was a lot of things, but she was not a person who turned down dessert. So she dug in. “Thanks.”
“Been a long shift?” the woman asked in sympathy.
“It turned into a double.”
“Damn. They always overwork the unsung heroes.”
Jane pretended not to hear this as she shoved in another lemon bite. She was always uncomfortable when someone thanked her for her work or referred to the job as being heroic. It was a job, and okay, yes, she loved it, but it was a paycheck.
Her table mate smiled. “My name’s Tess. I come here for lunch sometimes before picking up my daughter from the after-school program because it’s right across the street. Saves me some time, and also I like the food here. How about you?”
“Jane.” She took another lemon bite, then pictured Charlotte rolling her eyes at Jane being so miserly with words. So she sighed. Swallowed. “I’m a nurse at the urgent care clinic next door, and I come here during my breaks for the same reason. Plus I forgot to pack anything.”
“You must meet a lot of interesting people in your line of work.”
Jane thought about how she’d met Levi while hanging apparently seven hundred and fifty feet in the air and had to laugh a little. “Yeah.”
Tess smiled. “You look like you’ve got a good story to tell.”
Pleading the fifth, Jane stuffed in another bite.
“Sorry.” Tess sat back, looking embarrassed. “I’m a mom. It means I don’t have boundaries anymore. Plus I find myself asking everyone I run into about their relationships because mine just blew up in my face.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I was stupid.” Tess shook her head. “I let my soon-to-be ex-husband handle all our financial affairs, which means I don’t get to be surprised he ran away with the babysitter and all our money.”
“That’s awful,” Jane said in genuine sympathy. “Men suck.” She had a quick flashback to Levi moving to protect her with his entire body as their gondola thrashed about in the wind like a toy. How he’d coaxed her into the new experience of rock climbing. And then given her the discount for the jacket for Charlotte’s birthday, saying it was the least he could do for his pretend girlfriend saving his life. “Well, maybe they don’t all suck,” she corrected.