When Love Changes Everything (Linder Family #6)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Lisa

Mateo, effortlessly cool and undeniably charming, takes his seat with the rest of the wedding party. His gaze sweeps over the crowd until it lands on me. At forty-something, standing over six feet tall with a strong physique and those piercing blue eyes, he looks ten years younger, radiating confidence and a magnetic sex appeal that draws me in like a moth to a flame. I can’t help but stare, my heart racing as I pray he doesn’t notice just how openly I’m checking him out.

"I love my dad, but he's an insufferable Casanova," Lily's warning about her father echoes in my mind. "You should steer clear. In fact, don't even talk to him."

Lily and her new husband are completely lost in each other, wrapped in the bliss of newlywed love, oblivious to everything around them. They never notice as Mateo stands and strides toward my table, each deliberate step sending a ripple of excitement through me.

"May I have this dance?" he asks, his eyes intense and filled with a quiet challenge, daring me to resist our attraction.

"I'm not supposed to talk to you, remember?" I tease, walking that fine line between caution and temptation. Make no mistake—Mateo Cruz is dangerous in all the wrong ways. Or maybe all the right ones.

"It's just a dance," he replies, flashing that devilish grin that sends a shiver through me. My heart flutters, betraying any resolve I have to say no.

"You do realize you're old enough to be my father," I say, pretending I'm not interested, though deep down I wait, wanting him to ask again.

"One dance," he murmurs, his voice low and tempting. "Just one, and then I'll disappear."

"You promise?" I meet his grin with one of my own, caught in the game we're playing.

"I promise," he says, but his eyes tell a different story.

He extends his hand—strong, steady, and impossible to resist. The instant my fingers slip into his, a warmth spreads through me, sinking deep into parts of myself I hadn’t realized were frozen.

I’m not into older men, I remind myself, even as his arm wraps securely around me. But then I catch the scent of his cologne, intoxicating and all-consuming, pulling every one of my senses to him. The flutter in my chest intensifies, morphing into a rapid, unstoppable thrum, each beat echoing the thrill of stepping into something I swore I’d never want.

"I'm not into older men," I murmur, more to myself than to him. I feel like a hypocrite, uttering what I know is a big fat lie.

"I don’t believe you," he whispers, his voice a teasing challenge, before he twirls me effortlessly across the dance floor until the song comes to a close.

Mateo might be many things, but a liar isn't one of them. After our dance, he's gone, leaving me with the memory of his blue gaze as he held me in his arms, captive in a moment that felt too perfect for my own good.

"Hi." Lily’s soft voice pulls me from my thoughts. "You made it!"

"I almost didn’t," I admit, the guilt settling in. "I'm sorry I couldn't serve as one of your bridesmaids."

Her smile lights up, as she steps closer. "I’m just glad you’re here."

I smile and rise to pull her into a hug. "You look beautiful," I say. "And Noah is completely love-struck.”

“I feel like I’m living in a fairy tale,” she says, her eyes shimmering with emotion.

“You deserve it, Lily,” I reply, my voice warm with sincerity. “You and Noah deserve your happily ever after.”

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her gaze sharpening as she notices my forced smile.

“Things with my dad went… about as badly as I thought they would.”

“Oh, no,” she murmurs. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Of course not!” I exclaim, trying to keep the mood light. “This is your wedding reception. Go on, enjoy every second of it.”

Glancing in Noah’s direction, she pulls out a chair and sits. “We can talk about it now.”

“I’m not exactly Dad's favorite,” I murmur, struggling to keep bitterness from seeping into my tone. “But he’s still my father.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, her expression tightening with empathy.

“We barely exchanged words,” I admit, the weight of my feelings pressing down. “Once we settle the trust fund details, there won’t be much left to say."

"When is that happening?" she asks.

"He’ll be here next week. Things will be awkward, to say the least.”

"Maybe you two can use this time to reconnect and maybe clear things up?" Her tone is hopeful but cautious.

“I appreciate your optimism, Bestie,” I say with a sigh. “But I’m not getting my hopes up. Whenever I’m around my father, it’s like I’m twelve again—just this insecure kid, desperate for his approval.”

“Speaking of dads,” she says, an amused glint in her eye, “I saw you dancing with mine.” The sudden shift in topics catches me completely off guard, and I can’t help but laugh, my earlier frustration melting away just a bit.

“Busted!” I wince, flashing a guilty smile.

“Lisa,” she murmurs, disappointment flickering in her blue eyes, a mirror of her father’s.

“Maybe it's just my daddy issues manifesting?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

“That’s not funny,” she says, her tone suddenly serious.

“I’m kidding!” I chuckle, trying to brush it off. “It was just a dance, nothing more.”

“I told you, my father can be very charming,” she adds, a hint of warning in her tone. “Just be careful not to let him charm his way into your—”

“What?” I ask, cutting her off. “My bed?”

“I was going to say your life,” she replies defensively, "but if your mind went there, then we might have a bigger problem."

“He lives in Mexico!” I exclaim, shaking my head, trying to dismiss her concern.

"He's going to be here until after the holidays," she reminds me.

“Let’s change the subject,” I suggest. “How are you feeling? Is the morning sickness gone?”

A smile touches her lips as she caresses her belly. “Yes, I’m finally feeling like myself again.”

“Good,” I smile, the tension easing slightly. “Listen, I appreciate your concern, but like I’ve told you before, I’m not into older men."

“Neither was I,” she counters. “Now look at me, married to a man eighteen years my senior, pregnant and helping him raise his son.”

“And you’ve never been happier,” I reply, mirroring the big grin on her face with my own.

***

After leaving the reception at midnight, I head home to my cozy two-bedroom townhouse in the heart of Cold Spring. As I turn onto Main Street, my heart sinks—there’s a fire engine parked right in front of my duplex. My neighbor, Iris, stands on her porch, her face etched with worry. I park the car hastily and rush towards her, but a firefighter blocks my path.

"Hold on, young lady," he says firmly. "I can’t let you through."

"I live here!" I blurt out, panic rising in my chest. "What happened?"

"Looks like a pipe burst, flooding one of the units," he explains.

"Please, let me through," I beg, my voice trembling. "That's my neighbor. Miss Iris, are you okay?"

The firefighter hesitates, then steps aside. I sprint up the steps and embrace Iris.

"What happened?" I ask, my voice unsteady.

"I don’t know," she replies, her tone just as shaken. "Your house is flooded. I came out to let Porgie do his business before bed and saw the water pouring out. I tried calling you."

I quickly reach for my phone, seeing twelve missed calls. "Oh no, I’m so sorry. I was at Lily and Noah’s wedding—I didn’t check my phone."

I start dialing Mom before it hits me—she’s still in California. We traveled there together, but I came home early for the wedding. With a sigh, I switch gears and call my other bestie, Loren. The words tumble out in one breathless rush as I spill everything that happened, leaving nothing out. She listens, patient and calm, then tells me everything's going to be okay. "We’ll figure something out," she says softly. "Hold on, let me put Aaron on the phone."

When he suggests that I stay with them, I immediately protest. “Have you lost your mind? No, absolutely not. I’m not crashing at your place with your very pregnant, ready-to-pop wife and the kids. Your plate’s full, Aaron, and so is your house. My mom’s place is like a well-guarded fortress, and I don’t have a key. I’ll just stay in a hotel and figure something out tomorrow.”

“You can stay in Lily’s guesthouse,” Aaron offers quickly. “I'm sure you can stay there as long as you need.”

“No way am I intruding on the honeymooners,” I reply, fully aware that they won’t be leaving for their official honeymoon until Monday.

“They’re not home,” he explains. “They left Davey with Katherine and Adam and went up to the lake house for a couple of nights.”

“Okay,” I say, my voice filled with gratitude. "I'll stay in the guesthouse."

“I’ll call Mateo to let him know you’re coming,” Aaron replies. “He can give you the key.”

Oh no. I can’t believe I forgot that little detail.

As we end the call, the realization of what this means begins to sink in. Staying in the guesthouse means being close to Mateo—too close for comfort.

After speaking with the incident commander from the fire department, I'm finally granted permission to enter the house and grab a few things. The power has been shut off, so I walk into my living room, enveloped in complete darkness, with only the faint glow of my phone's flashlight to guide me. With each step, my shoes slush through the soaked carpet. The sound of water squishing underfoot echoes through the quiet space. I would cry, but I’m not the crying type. Instead, I steel myself and make my way to the bedroom, where the polished wood floors I once admired now look like sand rippling beneath ocean water, submerged under at least two inches of water. My heart sinks as I take in the sight—everything is ruined. The bed, the dresser, the drapes—all of it, drenched and destroyed. The dampness surrounding me chills my bones, making the reality of the flood hit me even harder.

***

When I park my car in Noah's driveway, I spot Mateo sitting on the front porch, casually sipping a cup of coffee. "Just get the key and go," I whisper to myself. My emotions are frayed, and my body is tired. Holding back the tears is my only priority. I pop the trunk to grab my things, but within seconds, he's right beside me.

"Aaron called," he says, his voice rich with that soothing Spanish accent that both calms and tortures me. I could listen to it all night—just not tonight. "Are you okay?"

I force a tight smile. I need to pull myself together and figure out a plan. "I'm fine," I whisper. "Thank you for asking and thank you for letting me stay in the guesthouse."

"This is Noah and Lily's home," he reminds me. "I have no say in the matter, but... I'm glad you're here."

His words are sincere, and while I know I should feel comforted, all I can focus on is keeping the flood of emotions at bay. No pun intended.

"Would you like to come in and have a cup of coffee or tea?" he asks, his blue gaze full of sympathy. Before I have a chance to say no, he puts his arm around my shoulders and gently guides me inside.

What am I doing?! I admonish myself, feeling a whirlwind of confusion as I let him lead me in despite my better judgment.

He sets my two bags on the couch, and I follow him into the kitchen, where he pours me a cup of coffee. "Would you like to change?" he asks, glancing at the party dress I'm still wearing. "If you need anything to wear, I'm sure Lily has plenty in the guesthouse. You can borrow whatever you need."

"I brought several changes of clothes," I say, giving him a small smile. "Thank you. I think I will go change. I'll be right back."

When he hands me the key, I grab my bags and head to the guesthouse, eager for a moment alone to gather my thoughts. The space is welcoming, decorated beautifully in a way that reflects Lily's warm personality. She really turned this place into a home.

After a quick shower, I slip into baggy sweats and an oversized sweater, letting the comfort of the soft fabric ease the weight of my current situation. As I towel my hair dry, I glance toward the main house. The light in the kitchen is still on. He poured a cup of coffee for me, and now it’s probably sitting there cold.

Should I go back? Is he expecting me to?

I bite my lip, replaying the way he looked tonight. Tuxedo or casual sweatshirt, it doesn’t matter—Mateo is irresistibly handsome, and it’s completely disarming. But that’s not what tonight is about. I need to focus on what comes next. For the next few weeks, maybe longer, I’m basically homeless.

The question remains though—do I want to see him again tonight? Or stay here, alone with my thoughts?

I knock on the back door, instantly second-guessing myself for returning. You're playing with fire, Lisa.

Before I can talk myself out of it, Mateo opens the door, holding a steaming cup of coffee. He offers it to me without a word, and I take it, wrapping my fingers around it, hoping the warmth will somehow steady my nerves.

"Are you cold?" he asks, his eyes sweeping over me, lingering for just a second too long.

I shake my head and slide into a seat at the table. I blow gently into the cup before returning my gaze to him.

His smile—easy, natural, and devastating—sends my heart into a full somersault. I take a slow breath, trying to keep my cool, reminding myself that I must be careful.

I take a long swig of the hot coffee, almost burning my mouth in the process. "Thanks for the coffee," I say, setting the cup down. "It's been a long night. I should probably go. I’ve got an even longer day ahead of me tomorrow. I need to head back to my house and see if anything can be salvaged."

"I can come with you," he offers without hesitation. "I'd be happy to help."

I smile, appreciating his kindness. "Thank you, but I think I can handle it on my own. Really, I appreciate it."

I stand, and so does he, our bodies coming incredibly close. We’re face to face, only inches apart. This is it. The moment we’ve been dancing around, avoiding since the day we met. Has it been three, four years? I lock eyes with him, his presence overwhelming. The sophisticated scent of his cologne fills the air, intoxicating and divine.

I realize I’m not moving. I’m standing still, as if waiting for something…waiting for him.

"Goodnight, Lisa," he murmurs, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. The warmth of his lips burns more than the steaming coffee did, lingering on my skin and sending a ripple through me that I was so unprepared for.

"Goodnight," I manage to reply. As I turn and walk away, I wonder if my legs will hold steady until I reach the door. Every step feels heavy, like I’m leaving behind more than just a room—like I’m leaving behind a moment that I wish could've been more.