More okay than anything she could think of. Fact was, she hadn’t stopped thinking about how safe she’d felt in his arms. Safe and secure and . . . not lonely. Because of her long hours, being alone was her norm, a by-product of her profession. And okay, yes, also because she’d chosen to be alone rather than let someone in to see what a hot mess she was on the inside. But she was tired of hiding.
“Charlotte?”
She nodded.
“I need the words.”
“Yes, please,” she whispered, and with a smile he stepped farther into the freezing cold morning in his bare feet and wrapped his arms around her.
She gasped as her hands came in contact with warm bare skin stretched taut over sinew. “Oh my God, you’re almost naked!”
“That was an ‘omigod, you’re almost naked’ in a good way, right?”
And that was how she found herself laughing and crying at the same time. Going up on tiptoes, she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, slipping her arms around him, holding on for dear life. “You’re going to catch frostbite,” she whispered against his throat.
He slid one hand up her spine, past the nape of her neck and into her hair, the other arm wrapped low on her hips as he held her close, and she wondered how something so simple as a hug could both give her such comfort and yet also rev her engines.
“Guess you’ll just have to keep me warm,” he murmured, his cheek pressed to her hair.
Closing her eyes, she breathed him in and held on for dear life. And he let her, cuddling her into him, her anchor in a world gone mad.
“You’re shivering,” she whispered.
“That’s you.” He pulled back but held on to her hand. “Come inside, Charlotte. I’ve got food. I even know how to cook it.”
She stared up at him. “Just breakfast, right? Nothing more.”
“I’d never ask you for more than you were willing to give.”
She wasn’t sure why such a simple statement felt so earth changing. No one had ever said such a thing to her.
He bent his head and looked into her eyes. “You in, or is it too much?”
That he would even ask her that meant everything. And he really had to be freezing, not to mention every bit as exhausted as she. But he was giving away none of that, just a calm, steady patience that was a balm to her soul.
That was when her stomach chose to rumble and grumble like a locomotive engine. Horrified, she pressed her hands to her belly while Mateo laughed and tugged her inside.
She’d been in his house a few times. Once for a holiday party, which had been the first time she’d seen him outside of his role as a doctor. It had fascinated her, watching him with friends and family, all of whom clearly adored him. A few months later, they’d had a disagreement at work and she’d stalked off, angry that he’d reported a coworker and gotten him fired, only to find out later that coworker had been harassing a female coworker. She’d gone to his house to apologize. On both visits she’d spent more time concentrating on the man, not the place he’d made his home.
This time, she was afraid to concentrate on the man. She felt too . . . exposed for that today, and when she was exposed, she didn’t always make smart decisions.
So she looked around. The big living room had the same wall-to-wall windows hers did, framing the gorgeous mountains she loved. In her house, her furniture was feminine and a little flowery because, sue her, she loved a little flowery. Mateo’s place was all warm woods and neutral colors, and big, sturdy furniture that was inviting in a whole new way. No flowery anything anywhere.
There were noises coming from the kitchen, making her realize she’d stopped in the living room and Mateo hadn’t. She followed the sounds and found he’d pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt, and she didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed.