Page 26 of Rejected Nanny Mate
I woke first at 6 am, the light from the window was so impossibly bright, and my head hurt so impossibly bad, that I simply pulled the blankets up over my head and tried to go back to my miserable sleep.
I woke the second time at 6:20 am, but the curtains had been pulled, and the room was cool and dark. I didn't know why I had woken up again at first, but then I cracked my eyes open just a bit and saw Joe sitting on the bed. He held out his hand, which held two white pills, and handed me a glass of blissfully cold water to take them with. No words were exchanged, but I felt him pull the blanket back up around my shoulders as I laid back and tried to sleep the world's worst hangover off.
I didn't see him again until the third time I woke up. It was 9:00 am, and the sun was still hidden by heavy curtains. My headache had abated to a dull throb, and I felt more like a human than I had the past two times I'd opened my eyes.
And that's when the memory came back.
Drinks. Lots of them. Strawberry margaritas. Cheeseburgers. Chocolate cake. And then...Joe. Carrying me up the stairs. Laying me down. Getting me ready for bed. My cheeks flamed, and I slapped a hand over my eyes, groaning. I didn't want to remember, but it was too late. He'd seen me a complete drunken mess, and now we'd probably have to have a talk about it.
The worst part of the memory was twofold—Joe helping me get my pants off, and me pulling Joe into a near-kiss. He dodged and pressed his lips to my cheek instead, but I was still mortified.
And if that wasn't enough, I was supposed to be professional! It had been a friendly dinner, nothing else. I couldn't believe I'd almost made it something more. I didn't know what the protocol was for this. Should I go find him and apologize? Pretend it had never happened and just act normal? Would he even bring it up, or would we both just ignore it?
My answer came just minutes later when the door to my bedroom opened, and Joe came in again. The smell of hot coffee and cinnamon hit me hard, and my stomach rumbled, the faint feeling of nausea from earlier disappearing. I reached for the tray he was holding without a word, but he wagged a finger at me and shoved yet another glass of water into my hands instead.
“Drink this first, and then you can have the good stuff.”
“You're an evil man,” I grumbled, but sipped the water obediently.
“Noted,” he smirked, watching as I drained the glass and gave it back. Then, finally, he relented, handing me the mug.
I took a sip and moaned. It was just coffee with cream, but it might as well have been ambrosia. I was even more sure I'd ascended to heaven when Joe laid the takeout box with a huge, gooey cinnamon roll inside on the table next to the bed.
“Breakfast of champions,” he chuckled, watching me dive in.
“Thank you,” I said around a mouthful.
Joe sat on the edge of the bed, closer to the end of it, so we weren't too close together, I noticed. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” I admitted, swallowing the bite of food. “A lot better, actually. Thank you. For everything. And sorry about...”
He waved his hand. “Don't worry about it, Gwen. Everyone gets a little tipsy and silly once in a while. And needs help getting out of their jeans.”
I flushed. “Right.”
“It's fine,” he assured me. “I just couldn't resist teasing you a little.”
“You didn't take advantage,” I pointed out, my voice softer.
His grin faded, and he looked dead serious. “I never would, Gwen. You can trust me.”
“I know.”
“You're special,” he said, his voice low and rough.
I didn't say anything. It wasn't that I didn't believe him. I did. I was just too scared to reply. If I'd opened my mouth, the words would have come tumbling out, and there was no way I could have said it. Not after he'd rejected me once already.
“So,” Joe cleared his throat. “Are you feeling up to a shift change? I can take Rosie, and you can go back to sleep if you need more rest. She's having a little snooze after breakfast, but I'm sure she'll be up soon enough.”
“I think I'll be okay,” I assured him.
“Really? Because you are one hell of a lightweight, Omega. I've never seen two frozen margaritas hit anyone that hard before.”
“Ugh, don't remind me,” I groaned, and his chuckle was low and deep. “You won't, will you? Please.”
“I won't mention the part where you begged me to lay down with you,” he grinned, “and the part where you almost pulled me onto the bed.”
“Joe,” I groaned, setting down my fork and burying my face in my hands. “Stop. Or I'm going to cry.”
