Page 23 of The Redemption of Remy St. Claire

Suddenly Rusty was in front of her—blocking her view.

“You need to go back to your room and clean up. Sleep it off if you have to. Just don’t come back here until you’re respectable looking.”

Who did he think he was? “How dare you speak to me like that? This ismyhouse.” She hissed the words. He had no right to tell her what to do. She was a twenty-eight-year-old woman. She was a respected Crown prosecutor.

I’m hungover.

His brown eyes, full of disdain, shamed her. “You’re right.” Looking down at her feet, humiliation heated her cheeks.“Give me half an hour.”

“Take as long as you need. It’s a beautiful day, so we’re going to play outside.”

His contempt was clear, leaving her exposed and raw.

“There are pancakes, but I suspect they’ll be more than you can handle. Is there anything I can do?” His tone was softer. Gentler.

It only increased her embarrassment. Without meeting his gaze, she whispered, “No, thank you.” She shuffled to her room, pressing her hand to her mouth.

She barely made it to the toilet before throwing up. Just the thought of food caused her stomach to revolt. He’d also been right on other counts. Calleigh didn’t need to see her looking like, well, whatever she looked like. Self-preservation kept her from looking in the mirror as she gingerly removed yesterday’s clothes.

The shower took longer than she planned as every movement rocked her stomach and sent waves of nausea crashing through her. When she finished, she dried off and slipped into fresh clothes. She tried to run a comb through her hair, but gave up when it set off another bout of heaves.

What have I done?

Calleigh was safe with Rusty, but what kind of guardian was she proving to be?

She desperately wanted to put in an appearance, but lost her equilibrium, so she staggered to the bed instead. Her head spun so much. Was she still drunk? She laid her towel on her pillow just before her head hit it.

Calleigh was safe. Nothing else mattered.

She drifted.

“Remy?”

The voice was gentle, but persistent.

“Remy, wake up.” The voice took on a tone of urgency.

“Please, sweetheart. You can do it. Just open your eyes.”

She didn’t want to. She was warm. She was safe. As long as she kept her eyes shut, she could keep out the world.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and her eyes flew open.

Kind eyes looked down at her. Her first instinct was to back away from the too-discerning gaze. Only the pounding in her head kept her from scrambling out of reach.

“How are you feeling?”

“What are you doing in here?”

“I knocked on the door. For several minutes. When you didn’t answer, I panicked. Sorry about barging in, but...” His voice trailed off, the pain so evident. “I pictured you passed out. I thought maybe you’d fallen and hit your head. I thought…”

“I’m sorry.”Shit.“I never meant to scare you.” Contrition hurt, but she needed to offer it. It’d never been her intention to scare him. Quite to the contrary, she owed him because he cared for Calleigh. “What time is it?”

“Two. I put the girls down for their nap.” He pointed to a glass on her bedside table. “I brought some ginger ale—if you think you can manage it.”

Since the idea was repellent, she tried to sit up. Ugh, her head still swam. Before she slumped forward, a strong arm caught her.

Deftly, with his other hand, he pulled two pillows against the headboard.

---