I hear shuffling as the door creaks open. Squinting with one eye closed, I see a tall, blurry figure walking toward me. His dark hair is gelled to the side, suit pressed to perfection, crisp white shirt bright against his tanned skin. Two blue-grey eyes flick to mine as he sits at the edge of the bed and holds out a bottle of water. Relief instantly surges through my body.
Nate.
My relief is short-lived when I realize last night is still fuzzy at best. Some of it is starting to come back to me. I was so goodall weekend. I even started researching some new restaurants in the area so I could pitch them on Monday. Then Sunday evening rolled around and the scaries hit me hard. Still, I was going to have one glass of wine. Just to calm my nerves. Then my friend, Lexi, from kickboxing, texted me to see if I wanted to meet up for a drink. That’s when things started to get murky. I remember running into Nate at the bar, but not much else after that.
“Thanks,” I croak, taking the bottle from him and downing half of it in one go. “Nate, I have to ask…”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Allie? You’re my sister’s best friend. Unlike Emory, I respect those boundaries.” He’s, of course, referring to the fact that his little sister, Emory, is now engaged to and having a baby withhisbest friend.
I snort. “Got it. So we didn’t…” I motion back and forth between us.
“No, Allie. Even if you weren’t my sister’s best friend, not to mention practically a sister to me, I prefer women to be conscious when I fuck them. You were wasted, so I brought you here to sleep it off. I didn’t want Emory worrying if she saw you come home like that. ”
“Plus, I’m not tied up,” I point out. “So, I guess your story checks out.”
Nate rolls his eyes in annoyance but also doesn’t deny anything. I don’t generally make a habit of knowing gritty details about other people’s sex lives, but I accidentally walked in on Nate once, and let’s just say it wasFifty Shadesof Caldwell in there.
Ignoring my last comment, he sighs as he stands up from the bed. “You know she waits up and looks out the window to make sure you’re okay when you come home, right?”
“I know.”
“It’s not just about Emory. I care about you, Allie. This behavior…”
“Nope. Don’t even finish that sentence. I’m not Emory, andI’m certainly not one of your little subs or whatever you call them. You do not get to comment on my ‘behavior.’”
“I don’t have—” he starts but thinks better of it. “I don’t speak to Emory like that anymore. I know I haven’t been the best brother in the past, but I will always protect her.” He’s silent for a moment. “I’ll protect you, too. Although these days it feels like you need the most protection from yourself.”
Ouch.“I’m an adult, Nate.”
“I get it, but you’re self-sabotaging. You know that, right? Getting drunk the night before you start a new job…”
New job. Fuck.
“What time is it?” I yell as I fly out of bed.
“It’s only eight. I would have woken you up if you slept any later,” he calls.
Shit, shit, shit.
I throw off my clothes—the same ones I was wearing last night—and hop into the ensuite shower in the guest bedroom. I don’t have time to wash and dry my hair, but I can at least rid my pores of tequila. I grab the lavender body wash from the built-in shelf as the warm water glides down my body. Okay, so maybe this isn’t the first time I’ve ended up in Nate’s guest room. He might have started keeping my preferred toiletries in the guest shower after the third or fourth time it happened. That’s the thing about Nate. He may have this stern, no-nonsense persona, but he cares deeply about the people in his life.
I haven’t woken up here in weeks, though. Which means I haven’t gotten drunk enough to call him to pick me up from whatever ridiculous situation I got myself into. It’s why I didn’t immediately recognize where I was this morning. I guess all good streaks must come to an end.
It has been zero days since Allie Montgomery got drunk and had to be put to bed by her best friend’s brother.
After the fastest shower of my life, I wrap myself in the fluffy gray towel Nate left on the hook for me.
As I dry off, I realize that I only have the clothes I wore last night, and I don’t have enough time to go home to change. Somehow, I don’t think Theo would appreciate me showing up in a strappy black mini dress on my first day of work.
Thankfully, when I walk out of the bathroom, I see a neat, folded stack of clothes sitting on the bed. The bed that is already made. I examine the clothes, noting the mid-calf length gray pencil skirt and cream blouse. I run my hands over the fabric. It feels like cashmere, but thinner. It’s not like anything I would usually wear. I have two looks: tight black dresses for nights out and oversized band tees with leggings or cut-off denim shorts—depending on the season—for every day. These clothes do scream professionalism, though, and I want to make a good first impression. There’s even a new pair of nude pantyhose with the tag still attached. Everything but…I turn my head when there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I call.
Nate walks in holding something balled up in his right hand.
“Hope the clothes are to your liking,” he says. “Here.” He holds out his hand to reveal a black thong, and thank all that is holy, it also has a tag attached. He clears his throat and goes to turn around.
“Are you seriously embarrassed to hand me a pair of panties?” I accuse. “After the things I saw in that room?—”
