The Family You Make (Sunrise Cove #1)

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.

To Jane’s shock and surprise and eternal gratitude, she was a part of that homemade family.

The house was an extension of Charlotte herself, warm and cozy, right down to the comfy furniture and thriving plants—more thanks to the high-altitude sun that came in from her floor-to-ceiling windows than any green thumb. Just walking inside, Jane could actually feel her blood pressure lowering. “That was fascinating, brand-new information, bee tee dubs. You and Mateo . . .”

“Hush.” Charlotte took the pastry and coffee. “Are you really okay?”

“Yes,” Jane said. “Promise.”

“If you’re sure, I’ll make us a big breakfast. Then we’ll split the pastry for dessert and both go get some sleep.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll help.”

“You mean you’ll watch me cook, then do the cleanup.”

Jane smiled. “Unless you want my help cooking?”

Well aware of Jane’s lack of talent in the kitchen, Charlotte shuddered. “Please, no.”

Two women were in the living room, both on yoga mats, stretching into some sort of twisted-pretzel poses. Charlotte greeted them warmly and announced she was making breakfast if they were interested.