Page 1 of Until We Come Home

CHAPTER 1

Mateo

Napa, California

Opening weekend of Alex and Isabelle's restaurant

The stone of the building still holds the day’s heat against my back. I’ve got a cold beer in my hand and the vineyard running downhill into the dark in front of me, while the party rolls on inside without me. Every so often a laugh carries out through the door and then the quiet settles back in.

The whole Midnight family flew down for the opening of Alex and Isabelle’s restaurant, Sous le Figuier, and I’m the only one out here. I’m also the only one who isn’t really a Midnight. Calvin and I have the same dad, something neither of us knew until we were grown men, but the five brothers were adopted and raised together in one house long before I ever showed up.

None of that has ever seemed to matter to them. They’ve treated me like one of their own from day one, which is better than I deserve, considering how often I disappear on a fire contract or a search job and go quiet for weeks at a time.

I wasn’t even sure I’d make it out here for this. My schedule opened up at the last minute, and with the rest of the family in town all week, showing up felt like the least I could do. Though standing in the dark with a beer instead of inside with them isn’t exactly my finest moment.

To my left, one of the patio doors swings open. A woman steps out into the evening, spots me tucked back here against the wall, and wanders over with a friendly nod.

She’s got wavy chestnut hair falling loose past her shoulders and a slim figure in a black dress with shiny silver moons and stars scattered all over it. It buttons down the front, the top few left open, a thin edge of black lace showing underneath.

Mia, I think.

Lark’s dancer friend, the one who’s been here all week helping Isabelle get the place ready. We got a quick introduction over dinner, but she was down at the far end of the long table and I was up near Dominic, so that was about as far as it went. A few years younger than me, if I had to guess. I try not to stare, which isn’t easy given how hot she is.

“Hey,” she says, stopping next to me. “Mind if I hide out here for a minute with you?”

“Not at all.” I straighten up off the wall. “Mia, right?”

“Yep.” Her smile widens. “And you’re Mateo. Firefighter, EMT, resident hero? Calvin talked you up at dinner, it was adorable. He made it sound like you single-handedly saved the populations of Boston and the Pacific Northwest. Traveling between the two, dragging people out of buildings on both coasts.”

“Hardly,” I tell her, taking a sip of beer while heat creeps up my neck. “Calvin gets generous with his praise after a glass of wine.”

“Oh, I see.” She leans against the wall beside me, close enough that her shoulder nearly touches mine, and tips her head to look up at me. “So how long have you been firefighting?”

I shrug. “Almost ten years now. I started on wildfire crews when I was eighteen, then got on with a station full-time at twenty-one, once I’d passed all the tests and the academy and everything that goes with it.”

“Wow.” She looks me over again, slower this time. “You don’t look old enough to have been doing anything for ten years.”

“I get that a lot.”

“That’s a good thing, you know.” She smiles.

“Did he give you the full briefing in there?” I ask.

“Oh yeah. I’ve been at that end of the table all night digging for family drama. I’m nosy, and this family is a gold mine.”

I laugh and shake my head. “They’ve got more than their share.”

She gestures at my bottle. “So, what brought you out here all alone in the shadows? Not big on social gatherings?”

“It’s not that,” I say, though I’ve been known to land on the introverted side of things. “It’s just been one of those weeks. I needed some air.”

“Sorry, I guess I kind of crashed your peaceful moment,” she says, though her hazel eyes don’t look the least bit sorry.

“Nah, you’re fine,” I say, and I’m a little surprised to find I mean it. “Why are you hiding out, though? You seem like someone who’d enjoy being right in the thick of it. I overheard you telling a story about dancing on tables at a tour afterparty.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Hoping I’d put on a sexy little show out here?”

I choke on my beer. “Er, no, sorry, that’s not what I...”