But they hadn’t installed a camera on the fourth floor, figuring no one would have that kind of time. Charlotte had won a nice pot of two hundred bucks, thanks to the hospital president being a personal friend and having her own office and attached bathroom.
She’d won the last five bets and had no intention of losing any time soon.
The other day in the staff room at the hospital, there’d been a poll on who still had their holiday decorations up, and you couldn’t bet on yourself.
She could still remember the light in Mateo’s eyes as he’d laughingly collected the bounty because he’d been the only one to know that she had hers up.
“They light up my bedroom at night,” he told her later when they’d been alone. “Makes me think of you.”
What would he say if she told him the truth—that she thought of him too. Way too much. But she still hated that she’d lost the bet on a technicality. She pointed up at her lights. “I’m coming for you.”
They twinkled at her mockingly, and she wondered if Mateo would notice that they were gone.
He’d asked her out, multiple times. But she’d always declined. Not because she was going for celibacy. And not for a lack of interest either. She’d have to be dead and buried to not be attracted to the man whose easygoing mannerisms conflicted with his heart-stopping magic in the ER in the most fascinating of ways.
Not going there . . .
She drew a deep breath of determination and dragged her ladder from the garage to the backyard, wrestling it up against the roof. Not easy on any day, but she still had a foot of snow in her yard, even more up against the house. She snugged the ladder against the packed snow and hoped that it would make her feel more secure.
If Jane had been here, she’d have done this for Charlotte. Jane was good with ladders. Jane was good with just about everything. Charlotte was first-rate in an operating room. She was also excellent at holding on to the past, not that she was proud of it.
It was why she lived all the way out here on the West Coast. Because she couldn’t fathom living in the city where it had happened. Where everyone knew and pitied her for it. Yes, she was lonely for her parents, but she was also furious that one bad decision on one terrible night had stolen not only her trust in others but in essence her family as well.
Quite over herself, she climbed to the top of the ladder and began to lift the string of lights from the hooks in her eaves. Two minutes in, she faced a quandary. Roll them up like a lasso and hang them from her shoulder, or let them drop to the ground and possibly break.
She was still deciding on a plan of action when she heard the doorbell ring. Grumbling, she backed down the ladder.
Please let it be a food delivery.
Since she hadn’t ordered anything, the odds were against her. Stalking around the side of the house, she stopped in surprise at seeing Jane standing on the porch. She was in jeans and a thin sweater that accented her slender, deceptively lightweight figure. No jacket, no doubt because she’d forgotten it. Long wavy hair blowing around her pretty face. She had a big bakery bag in one hand and kickass boots on her feet that were a statement and told people not to underestimate her.
Charlotte certainly never did. She’d met Jane years ago at a medical clinic in Colombia, where they’d both been on a Doctors Without Borders stint. It’d been one of Charlotte’s first overseas forays, and she’d been told to expect it to be rough.
But it’d been even more of a nightmare than she could have dreamed of. One night, rebels, guns blazing, had come into the clinic to confiscate all the meds and meager amounts of cash. Charlotte had been by the door, just locking up. The rebel guarding their exit had sidled up to her.
She hadn’t been able to understand everything he’d said, but his intent had been clear in the way he looked at her while fingering her hair, bringing a strand of it up to his face to sniff at exaggeratedly.