The corner of his mouth twitched. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Chapter 16
Charlotte pulled up her driveway at four in the afternoon. It was the first time she’d seen daylight in . . . well, she couldn’t remember how long. She got out of her car, noticing that Mateo had at least ten cars in his driveway, and two right on top of the snow on his front lawn. A few more cars lined the street, now that she thought about it, even though there was no parking on the street allowed between November and April for snow removal.
What was going on?
She followed the sounds of wild laughter and screeching past the driveway and around the side of Mateo’s house. The snow was deeper here, and she sank into several inches as she moved, her boots making a crunching sound. Just as she rounded the corner of the house to the back, she realized all noise had stopped. In the odd and sudden silence, she cleared the corner. And then . . . whoosh!
A snowball hit her right in the face, breaking apart on impact, its momentum taking her down to her ass in the snow.
“Oh shit!”
“Oh my God!”
“Did we kill her?”
Charlotte sat up and wiped the quickly melting snow from her eyes and mouth, just as a tall shadow dropped to its knees at her side.
“Charlotte?”
She didn’t answer right away as she was spitting out some snow, so Mateo hauled her upright, holding on to her hands, and he stared down into her face, his own creased in deep concern. “Charlotte, say something.”
She looked past his broad shadows to find a whole bunch of what looked like Morenos of all ages scattered in the yard, clearly in the midst of a killer snowball fight. “Who threw it?”
Every single person pointed to Mateo.
She swiveled her head and looked at him.
He grimaced. “Look, you were tiptoeing in the back way. I thought you were my cousin Rafe. He sneaked in last time and took me down.”
She arched a brow. Or at least she thought she arched a brow, but since they were frozen, she couldn’t be sure.
“I’m so sorry,” he said quietly, stepping closer, cupping her face to tilt it up to his. “Did I hurt you?”
“Hmm,” she said noncommittally and bent under the guise of rubbing her ankle. “I think I sprained something. Do you have a first aid kit?”
“Of course.” He turned toward the house.
“Mateo?”
He turned back just as she rose upright again, patting the snow she’d just scooped up into a snowball as she did. Which she threw at him.
And nailed him.
Also in the face.
His family erupted in wild cheers.
She grinned and took a bow.
This got her an ovation.
Mateo, who hadn’t fallen to his ass, straightened—snow in his hair, dripping off his nose and sticking to the stubble on his jaw—and just looked at her.
“Mateo, can we keep her for our team?” someone called out.
“No fair,” someone else yelled. “She’s got a wicked right arm. We need her on our side!”
“Charlotte,” Mateo said and swept an arm across his yard, “meet my wild and crazy cousins. Primos, meet Dr. Charlotte Dixon. And she’s far too civilized to play with this lot.”
“I’m not that civilized,” Charlotte said. “And I want to play against you.”
Cheers broke out on one side of the yard, groans on the other side.