Page 8 of Rejected Nanny Mate
I had to admit, even though Samson had only been the Saltfang Alpha for a handful of years after his father died, he was already shaping up to be one of the best. His relationship with his cousin, Nayeli, and his mate, Kiera, had changed him, and he was a better leader for it. A year ago, I think he would have agreed to do it if I had asked him the same question. But the changes he was implementing in his pack to make the she-wolves more equal were apparently here to stay.
Scott and the Shadowbay pack were on the same path. I was the only one lagging behind. I was the oldest out of the three of us, and the most set in my ways. I wasn't ashamed to admit it, but the more the other two packs changed, and the benefits of those changes became obvious, the more I felt like I was forcing my pack to remain in the past.
But that was a consideration for another time. For the moment, I had to figure out a solution with Gwen to make sure that Rose had the best care possible.
“Got it. Thanks, man,” I called, hopping onto my bike. Samson nodded, waved goodbye, and I tore off down the street towards the direction of Gwen's apartment.
By the time I reached her complex, the sun had almost fully set, and the sky was hovering between orange and dark blue. I expected to have to go to her door and all but demand she come out and talk to me, but instead, Gwen had made it easy. She was coming down the outdoor stairs, her car keys in one hand and an overstuffed duffle bag in the other.
I felt a lot of things all at once. First, I was taken aback by how damned beautiful she was. Gwen didn't turn heads whenshe walked down the street, but her beauty was more of a subtle thing. When I was close to her and could see the sparkle in her deep, amber eyes and see the light catch on the soft curls of her brown hair, there was no woman alive who could hold a candle to her—at least for me. She had freckles across the bridge of her nose that were more apparent in the summertime, and a laugh that came easy once she was comfortable with someone.
She laughed a lot with me. At least before things became all fucked up.
After I got a hold of myself and was able to look past how attracted to her I was, the significance of the bag she held finally penetrated my thick skull. Gwen had refused the babysitting job, and now it looked like she was about to leave for a trip that was going to last a few days, if not more, according to how much she had shoved into her single bag. That made something catch in my chest. If she escaped and left Samson's territory, I'd never find her, and dammit, I needed Gwen. She might have been the only woman around who could help me.
I was an Alpha, and while I wasn't Gwen's Alpha, I still held plenty of power. Which meant there was no way in hell I was going to let her leave.
She hadn't seen me yet, so I killed the engine on the motorcycle and parked it behind a grouping of other cars. Her movements were jerky and quick, like she was paranoid, and it made her neglect the need to pay attention to her surroundings at all times.
I stalked silently up behind her, keeping hidden behind the other cars as I went, until she was just feet away from me. Gwen's scent hit my nostrils like a punch in the face, a warm blend of caramel and freshly roasted coffee beans, and it was almost enough to distract me.
Not enough, though.
Just as she went to grab the car handle, I reached out and pressed my hand to the door, keeping it shut. She froze, breathing picking up, but she surprised me by being brave enough to turn and face me.
“Going somewhere?” I asked, “Hopefully, to my place. I've already got your room made up for you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “No. Let go.”
“Nope.”
“Why are you here, Joe?”
“Well, I'm not exactly sure. Why are you?”
Gwen turned and yanked on the door handle, and I had to tighten my grip or risk letting her escape. “Please,” she begged. “Let go.”
“Are you leaving because of me?”
“None of your business,” she bit back, yanking hard enough to make the metal creak.
“Oh, it is my business. I've got a little girl at home that needs a nanny, and I'm not taking no for an answer.”
“Well, you should,” she hissed. “I'm not going anywhere near your baby, not if you're the father.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding. “So, this is about that night behind the coffee shop, huh? You're still holding a grudge.”
“A grudge?!” Her voice was shrill, and it echoed off the walls of the apartment buildings.
“Yeah, a grudge. Because I didn't say what you wanted me to. Or should have said. But I was an idiot and didn't. Now we're here.”
“You didn't just not say what I wanted to hear. You laughed at me!”
“I didn't mean—”
“And now,” she continued, voice still loud, “you have a baby with some woman, and expect me to, what? Babysit it?”
“She's my daughter,” I said simply. “And this act you're putting on about not wanting to see her because she's mine is fake as hell. I know you, Gwendolyn, and I know there isn't a baby or kid in the world that you don't adore on sight. So quit pretending just to piss me off, and come home with me.”
