When Love Changes Everything (Linder Family #6)

9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Lisa

"I always knew you'd be a great kisser," I whisper, my voice shaky with the lingering sweetness of his lips. "But wow..."

A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face. "I told you you'd enjoy it," he murmurs, each word wrapped in an intimacy that sends a shiver racing down my spine.

"I never imagined," I admit, my breath catching as I meet his gaze, "that one kiss could shift the ground beneath me... or make my heart feel like it no longer belongs to me."

His thumb lingers, tracing a tender line along my skin, sending a cascade of longing through me. His voice, low and velvety, wraps around my senses like a caress. "Tell me it’s always belonged to me, hermosa, " he murmurs, his eyes searching. "Just like mine has always belonged to you."

“Always," I murmur.

***

The first thought that crosses my mind as I wake is Mateo—and our first kiss. It lingers, etched into my heart, a mark that won’t fade. That kiss made me realize no one else could ever compare to him.

I smile, giddy with happiness, as I replay it over and over in my mind.

When we got home last night, he walked me to my room, the air thick with everything we hadn’t said yet. I didn’t invite him in, and he didn’t ask, but as he gently lifted my hand to his lips, he whispered, "Good night, hermosa . Never forget that I love you."

"I love you too," I replied, my voice certain. The words flowed so naturally, as if they’d been waiting, hidden deep in my heart, until this very moment—like they were always meant to be said.

I turn over in bed, immediately finding a comfortable spot. I know I should get up, but the thought of my father being just across the garden makes me want to burrow under the covers and hide from the world a little longer. It’s as if staying here, wrapped in warmth and quiet, can somehow keep reality at bay—just for a few precious moments more.

But my vacation is over, and I have to face reality. I have phone calls to make, appointments to set up, and sales to schedule. Fortunately, I've got support. Hiring Nichole and Jeffrey has been a blessing. Between the three of us, we coordinate everything from our homes, with most of our overhead going to the storage units where we keep unsold items temporarily. For each sale, we carefully catalog, photograph, and appraise items, managing online listings and organizing on-site events. And for whatever doesn’t sell during the estate sale itself, we offer it in bulk to resellers or local thrift stores and online vendors, clearing space and making room for the next project.

Remembering Dad’s harsh words—that my work is just “sorting through people’s trash”—still stings. But I remind myself that his words come from a place of ignorance about what I truly do. My work is about giving people peace of mind during some of life’s toughest transitions: downsizing, moving, handling a family member’s estate, guiding an elderly loved one into assisted living, or even managing the aftermath of a divorce. My work is rewarding and fulfilling.

What my father calls trash, I see as someone's treasures. Each item—a cherished piece of art, a well-worn piece of furniture that holds years of family memories, a photo frame that once held a precious moment, a beloved collection—represents a story that’s worth preserving. You can’t put a price on that, and that’s where I come in. Each piece has a story, and I’m there to listen, to understand, and to ensure every item is handled with the respect and care it deserves.

When I open my eyes, another twenty minutes have slipped by. With a deep breath, I decide it's time to face the day—and my dad.

***

An hour later, I head to the kitchen, hoping to catch Mateo before he leaves. Instead, I find the kitchen quiet, his phone sitting on the counter. A fresh pot of coffee brews, the aroma filling the air, and a neatly folded note rests beside it. I pick it up, and his familiar handwriting softens my disappointment.

Went for a run. See you soon, hermosa.

I smile, tracing the curve of his letters before setting it down. With a cup of coffee, I pull out a stool and settle in, absently scrolling through my phone. Notifications blur together as I mentally sift through which calls I’ll return first.

But the effort is fleeting. Before I know it, I’ve set the phone aside, my thoughts inevitably circling back to him—his laugh, the way his eyes soften when he looks at me, the comfort of his presence. The ache of missing him surprises me; he’s only out for a run. Yet, here I sit, counting the minutes until he walks through that door.

I’ve never been in a serious relationship. Most of the ones I’ve been in have wound up slipping quickly and effortlessly into the “friendship zone.” None ever came close to resembling anything that felt like a future.

Then I met Mateo, and everything changed.

Every date I went on after that felt hollow compared to the way he made me feel when we were together. In a crowded room, I’d zero in on the sound of his voice—deep, swoony, and unmistakable. His eyes would search the space until they locked on mine, and that subtle nod he’d give—a quiet, unspoken hello—would send my heart soaring. He made me laugh in ways that left me breathless. In those moments, I wasn’t just his daughter's friend. I was the center of his universe.

And then came the time for him to return to Mérida, a knot would tighten in my chest. I’d remind myself that I wasn't into older men, but I’d still find my throat thick with emotion, wishing he didn’t have to go.

The last time he was in Cold Spring, we met up a few times, sneaking away for hikes on quiet trails, always careful not to let anyone—especially Lily—know we were spending time alone. There was a certain thrill to the secrecy, to stolen moments where it was just the two of us.

It was during one of those hikes that he almost kissed me. I remember stumbling on uneven ground, my heart racing for a reason that had nothing to do with the terrain. He caught me before I could fall, his strong arms steady around me. I laughed, feeling silly and embarrassed for not watching my step, though the truth was, I couldn’t stop sneaking glances at him. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, and every stolen look made it harder to pretend otherwise.

As he steadied me, his eyes softened with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low.

"I am now," I said with a small smile, leaning casually against a nearby boulder to adjust my shoe.

When I looked up, his gaze was sweeping over me with a tenderness so profound that it made my heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just the way he looked at me—it was the raw intensity behind it, telling me I was important to him, and he knew there was something special growing between us.

“Have you ever been kissed by an older man?” he murmured, stepping closer. His scent wrapped around me like a spell. I remember thinking if heaven could be captured in a bottle, it would smell like him: alluring, seductive, and dangerously addictive.

“Why?” I managed. “Are you volunteering?”

His lips quirked with the faintest hint of a smile. “Would you let me?”

I hesitated, feeling his nearness, the pull of his gaze. “I’m not even supposed to be talking to you,” I said, my voice almost pleading. The memory of Lily’s warnings rang in my ears. “If Lily knew, she’d kill me.”

He tilted his head, his voice dropping even lower. “I think she’d kill me first,” he murmured. “But I’d die a happy man.”

I couldn't help but smile, my defenses melting, slipping away with every beat of my heart. “Has any woman ever been able to resist your charm?” I asked, knowing full well my own resistance had already burned to ashes.

"That depends on your answer," he said, leaning in close. His gaze darkened, the blue of his eyes deepening like the ocean before a storm, pulling me under.

"No," I admitted. "I've never been kissed by an older man."

My heart hammered in my chest, each beat loud and insistent, as his hand slid slowly up my arm. His touch was deliberate, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, until his fingers came to rest lightly on the curve of my neck.

I remember the way his touch felt—warm, and impossibly good. It was a moment I had been waiting for all along.

For a moment, we stood there, the raw attraction we both felt daring us to cross a line we knew we could never uncross. But in the end, we simply resumed our hike, letting the silence speak for us. A few days later, he was gone, leaving only the memory of that almost-moment and all the words we’d left unsaid.

***

Now he’s back, and the feelings we once buried are clawing their way to the surface, impossible to ignore.

I touch my lips, my eyes drifting closed as the memory washes over me. That one tender kiss—it was everything. So good, so perfect, that I can almost feel the faint tingle still lingering on my lips, a ghost of his touch haunting me in the best way.

When the phone rings, I reach for it absentmindedly, the action so automatic I don’t realize until it’s too late that I’ve picked up Mateo’s phone instead of mine. "Hello?" I murmur, my voice soft, still caught in the haze of the memory that lingers, leaving an undeniable mark on my heart.

"Hello, this is Vivian from Jewelers Mutual. May I please speak to Mr. Cruz?"

"He's not home right now," I say. "Would you like to leave a message?"

"Yes, thank you. I’m calling to let him know the paperwork for the insurance coverage on the engagement ring he purchased yesterday is ready for his signature. He can stop by anytime. We're open until six.”

“Yes... I’ll let him know. Thank you.”

“Oh, one more thing,” Vivian adds, “I’ll need to confirm the valuation. Just a moment… Yes, here it is—fifty-five thousand dollars. If that amount is incorrect, please have him call me back so I can update the paperwork before his visit.”

I end the call, frozen in shock, as her words echo in my mind. Fifty-five thousand dollars?

Slowly, I lift my hand, staring at the ring on my finger, the weight of it suddenly feeling so much heavier than just a beautiful piece of jewelry. Fifty-five thousand dollars? The number swirls in my mind, and I inhale slowly, fighting to keep from spiraling into a full-blown panic attack.

His words to my father echo through my thoughts: "I wanted something as rare and extraordinary as she is."