“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.”
The air seemed to crackle.
Jane, who’d been enjoying not being the center of their attention, suddenly straightened and stared at them both because . . . what? What was this? If she didn’t know better, she’d call it sexual tension. But Charlotte didn’t do sexual tension, ever. She’d cut that part of her life off entirely. Not exactly healthy, something that even Jane could recognize, but it was the truth. Fascinated, she watched as Charlotte, under Mateo’s sharp gaze, seemed to . . . squirm?
Jane had never seen the woman squirm, not once.
Instantly curious, Jane eyed Mateo, who looked to be both amused and annoyed at the same time, which made things even more interesting because Mateo rarely showed annoyance. “Oh my God,” she said, pointing at them. “You two are doing it?”
Charlotte gasped and put a hand to her chest.
The southern belle does denial.
Mateo’s expression didn’t change.
“You are!” Jane said in surprise.
Charlotte crossed her arms. “No, we are in fact not doing it.”
Mateo shrugged. “I’ve asked her out. She’s turned me down. Multiple times.” He spoke to Jane but never took his eyes off Charlotte. “She knows the ball’s in her court.”
Charlotte stared at him right back. “I don’t play ball.”
“Then pick something else. You know where to find me.” And with that, he started across the driveway toward his house.
“Hey,” Jane called after him, “you’re just going to leave me with her?”
“I’ve already been yelled at this week, both for the snow removal and when my car was an inch over the center divider of the driveway. Your turn.”
“Excuse me, I don’t yell,” Charlotte said to his back. “I speak strongly, as is my right as a woman, thank you very much. And it wasn’t your car blocking my driveway, it was a blue Toyota, so unless you occasionally wear a blond wig . . .”
Mateo stopped and turned back. “Whatever you do, never tell my cousin you thought she was wearing a wig.”
Charlotte blinked. “Your cousin?”
“Yes. You know my family lives nearby. You’ve just never met them because, again, you’ve turned down all my attempts to get to know each other better.”
“I can’t believe I missed all this,” Jane muttered to herself. “I thought you two didn’t like each other. But it’s actually the opposite, you two—”
“Finish that sentence and you’re doing dishes for the rest of my life,” Charlotte said. “And while this has been a whole bunch of fun, I’m going inside to eat and then sleep.” With that, she strode, nose in the air, toward her house, blond hair quivering with indignation.
“Now who’s turning tail?” Mateo asked, almost lazily.
Charlotte, her back to Mateo, froze.
Oh boy, Jane thought, torn between making a run for it or staying to watch the show. Because what Jane knew, and what Mateo had no way of knowing, was that Charlotte had been turning tail when it came to men since the night of her eighteenth birthday, when a string of bad decisions had nearly derailed her entire life.
Jane stood there, caught between two people she cared deeply about, not sure how to help. Thankfully, Mateo’s phone went off. He looked at the screen and ran a hand down his face.
“I’m being called back into the hospital,” he said. “Trev can’t make his shift.”
“No,” Charlotte said, bad ’tude gone, replaced with something that looked suspiciously like worry. “You’re too tired. Let them call someone else.”
“I’m fine.” He gave her an unreadable look, then got back into his car and drove off.
Jane felt for Mateo, she really did, but at the end of the day, her first alliance was with Charlotte, always, and her heart pinched hard at the look on her friend’s face. Slipping her hand in Charlotte’s, Jane knew exactly what to say to the good doctor, whose greatest joy was taking care of others, to redirect her. “Let’s go inside. My head and wrist are aching.”
Charlotte gasped. “And you let me stand out here dithering on?”
“Well, I know how you love to dither.”
Charlotte snorted indignantly but slipped an arm around Jane and drew her inside.
Charlotte had bought the old Victorian to celebrate getting her residency. But burdened with heavy debt from medical school, she typically rented out three of the five bedrooms to hospital staff. Anyone of the female persuasion who needed a room qualified, from nurses to cleaning crews. She kept the master for herself and the one extra room as a den.
And a bedroom for Jane when she was in town.
For Charlotte, it was kind of the-family-you-make situation. Her parents were sweet and wonderful but lived in Atlanta. And since Charlotte couldn’t often make herself go back there without experiencing crippling anxiety and panic attacks, she’d created a home and family here in Tahoe as well.