Page 24 of Rejected Nanny Mate
“They're made with tequila. It's stronger.”
“Oooh,” she nodded.
“Do you want something else?”
“Like what?”
“Water.”
“No, thanks.”
I held a hand up to signal the server. “Actually, I think I have to insist on the water, Gwen. At least a glass before we go home.”
She pouted, but when the server brought the water over, she obediently took a sip and then sat back, her lips parted, her eyes slightly glazed. The sight did nothing to quell the growing ache between my legs.
“This is fun,” she announced, louder than normal, and a couple people turned their heads, smiling at her.
“Yeah,” I agreed, trying not to chuckle.
“Are we having fun, Joe?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Can we get dessert?”
“Absolutely.”
She squealed, and a couple of men sitting at the bar jumped at the sound before laughing. They probably assumed that I was out on a date and that my date was tipsy. Gwen wasn't my date, but I wished she were. She was adorable, eyes too bright, lids heavy, and color high on her cheeks.
I didn't want dessert, but Gwen did, and it had the added benefit of getting her to drink more water and hopefully soak up some of the liquor in her belly. After we split a chocolate lava cake and half a piece of cheesecake, neither of us could take another bite, and Gwen, even though she hadn't drunk anymore, was swaying in her chair. She was a damn lightweight, and while it had been cute and amusing at first, the amusement was switching to alarm.
It was probably in both our best interests to get her home and in bed before she was unconscious, and I had to carry her the entire way.
“You ready, babe?”
Her eyes flashed up to mine. “Babe?”
“Yeah, Gwen, let's go. I'll drive us.”
“You've been drinking, too.”
“One beer, an hour ago. I'm fine. Let's go.”
She sighed dramatically, pushing herself up. And then her face turned pale, her eyes wide.
“I don't feel well,” she groaned, and I grabbed her elbow to steady her. “Take me home, please.”
“That's the plan.”
I tossed a generous amount of bills on the table and led Gwen out of the bar, letting her put her weight on me as we went. She hummed in pleasure as we exited into the cool night air, and she looked less green around the gills once we were out of the warm, crowded restaurant.
“What happened to fast werewolf metabolism?” she complained as I helped her into the passenger seat of the Jeep I'd bought just a few weeks ago. I was thanking my lucky stars that I hadn't taken us on the bike. There was no fucking way Gwen could have held on for a motorcycle ride.
I chuckled. “You managed to outpace it, little Omega. Now relax. We'll be home before you know it.”
“Home,” she sighed, her eyes fluttering shut. “We have the same home. It's kind of nice, isn't it? Living together, just me, you, and Rosie?”
My heart clenched, a wave of affection hitting me like a freight train. “Yeah,” I said hoarsely. “It is.”
